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Flags, vuvuzela, fireworks: Egypt is exuberant on Day One after President Mursi's removal from power. But in with the cheers, more and more doubts are starting to creep in. Christopher Resch reports on the atmosphere in Cairo.

It's the morning after the night of rapture, and I still feel like I am in a film. Nine jets thunder across the sky, leaving smoke trails in the colours of the Egyptian flag. The scene reminds me of a similar scenario the day before: Apache army helicopters suddenly circled over the iconic Tahrir Square – and dropped small national flags over the protesters. Hundreds of thousands cheered. For the second time in only a short period of time, the people have had their way and given their president the boot.

Cairo had been changing for weeks already. My daily route leads from my home in Mohamed Mahmoud Street, with its street barricades and revolutionary graffiti, through downtown, the pulsating but somewhat sickly and stressed heart of the city, to the Goethe-Institut. I always have Tahrir Square in my line of sight.

In the past few days, tension has been growing among people in the streets downtown, and I feel just the same as the man who sells breakfast in front of the Institut. There is more and more turmoil in the streets. One day a van is in flames right in front of the Goethe-Institut, staff members come running out with buckets of water. Activists once again pitch their tents in Tahrir Square, as June 30 approaches: on this day, Mohamed Morsi will have held the office of President for exactly one year. Mass demonstrations are planned. All of Cairo, all of Egypt is waiting for this day, embassies are sending emails that are meant to be reassuring and have exactly the opposite effect. On the eve of June 30 I send a friend a message, asking him what he is doing: “Waiting for tomorrow. The whole country is waiting for tomorrow.”

Around midday on June 30, there is an odd silence in the city, and one specific element is missing: there are no cars. People are buying food, not really panicked, but their bags are larger than usually. The fruit dealer at my doorstep is out of merchandise. People have to sort it out in their heads first, before it happens – whatever is going to happen that afternoon and in the days to come. Hundreds of thousands of people take to the streets and rally, many for President Morsi in front of the Rabaa al-Adawiya Mosque in the eastern part of Cairo, and many more against him in Tahrir Square and in front of the Presidential Palace. The call “Irhal – Go away!” resounds everywhere in the city. Millions gather, more than for the protests against Mubarak.

There is talk of civil war

Nearly all my Egyptian friends are there, I am sitting at home, glued to my laptop. My street is constantly full of people crying slogans, waving flags, honking. The vuvuzela is making a comeback, and a powerful one. Shootouts begin in the nights that follow, the country has increasingly tended towards a dangerous divide between supporters and opponents of Morsi. There is frightened talk of civil war. Dozens of people have already been killed.

Then the military intervenes, this open power in the background. The army as an institution, but several high officers controlling part of the economy also have an extremely strong influence and actually never really stepped down from power. Now they are issuing an ultimatum to Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood, giving him 48 hours to reach a compromise with the opposition. Morsi does – nothing. The tension keeps growing, and I am wondering how this is at all possible. The ultimatum passes, more and more people flock to the streets. Armoured vehicles move in and surround the mass of Morsi supporters, and soon it is obvious: the President has been deposed. From my window, I can see people dancing, cheering and singing - without pause and for hours. Fireworks burst up into the sky, I see Bengal lights in Tahrir Square. The cheers are deafening. This is spontaneous, deep joy.

My friends are debating: Is this a coup, albeit with democratic legitimation? They object to this word, yet some disenchantment can be felt. Old doubts about the army creep up again, memories of military trials, the disgraceful “virginity tests.” Later that same night the military issues arrest warrants against several Muslim Brothers and shuts down several TV stations while they are broadcasting live. Even if they stirred up fierce hatred against the opposition in the past few weeks – this is not democratic.

Egypt once more faces a new beginning now. It is not clear where the road will lead. Violence may erupt any time, people's nerves are raw, not only among the Muslim Brotherhood. The plan to hold new elections soon is reasonable. But the next President will not have an easy job either. He will have to try to bridge the gap that divides society. The key will be to open up new perspectives for the many people living at or below the poverty line, because in fact they have made a major contribution to the revolutions, both on 25 January 2011 and on 30 June 2013.

Christopher Resch, 29, has been Press and Communications Coordinator at Goethe-Institut Cairo since December 2012.