Tareq Al-Dezeiri lies covered in white sheets in a remote room in St. Augustine Hospital in Tunis. His face is worn and his tired, worried eyes wander about aimlessly.
He doesn’t typically receive visitors, except for some members of his small family and others like him, who are casualties of the revolution.
Tareq Al-Dezeiri lies covered in white sheets in a remote room in St. Augustine Hospital in Tunis. His face is worn and his tired, worried eyes wander about aimlessly.
He doesn’t typically receive visitors, except for some members of his small family and others like him, who are casualties of the revolution.
“I can’t move my lower torso. My leg is shocking and disgusting,” he says. “It is fully festered and full of sore wounds, even I can’t look at it. I hope I will recover for the sake of my beloved son and dear wife who suffer a lot because of me.”
A few days ago, Al-Dezeiri was so desperate, he was about to set himself on fire. He and his friend, Muslim Qasdullah, another revolution casualty, poured gasoline on their bodies, but were saved at the last minute. Hearing their story, the transitional Minister of Human Rights and Justice ordered them to be admitted into a special hospital to await completion of their travel procedures into an Arab country to receive further treatment.
Bound by fate
Al-Dezeiri’s friend, Qasdullah, was shot in the leg during the notorious events in Al-Wardanyeen—a city on the Tunisian coast. The city’s people had run after Qais Ben Ali, the toppled presidents’ nephew, to thwart his attempted escape.
Qasdullah almost collapsed when the doctor told him that he couldn’t be saved unless his leg was amputated, to stop the disease from spreading to other parts. Qasdullah, who is barely 30, could not imagine how he would spend the rest of his life with one leg.
“Am I to blame that I am one of this fertile land’s good sons? It’s better to die than to live with one leg. My condition wouldn’t have worsened, had we received due attention from the very beginning. As casualties of the revolution, we deserve better care,” Qasdullah says through tears.
According to official estimates, there were 238 killed and 1,380 injured in the revolution that ousted Ben Ali. The complete list of deceased and injured people and their compensation and health care is still a subject of debate. Their families have organized many protests, the last of which was in front of the Ministry of Human Rights headquarters, where demonstrators clashed with the police.
Recently, the transitional Ministry of Human Rights announced that casualties from the revolution who contacted the state authority would obtain free transportation and treatment cards to receive free medical tests, treatment and medication.
“I’ve never regretted defending Tunisia and the dignity of its people,” Al-Dezeiri says. “Even the chair that I’m confined to hasn’t deflated my deep sense of belonging to my country.
Sitting next to Al-Deeiri’s bed is his lively, two-year old son, Mo’az, who is trying to climb the bed to hug his father.
Mo’az was accompanied by his mother, Radhia, who was deeply worried about her future, since her husband became crippled by a bullet. The doctors say the bullets will have to stay in his body for the rest of his life. How can a person live all his life with a bullet in his lung, he wonders?
Wrong place at the wrong time
Mo’az and Radhia live in Fahs city in the State of Zaghwan, 60 kilometres to the northwest of Tunis. They reside in a simply furnished, one-room extension of the district’s court in Fahs city, where a local official allowed them to live because it was near the city’s hospital where Al-Dezeiri could have his dressings changed often.
They had been living in a rented house but after Al-Dezeiri was shot, he could no longer pay the rent. They were suddenly homeless so local officials allowed them to live in the room temporarily. Radhia worries she will become homeless again because the room belongs to the dismantled Rally Party.
Radhia struggles to earn a living for her and her son since she has no fixed income. She gets support from charity groups and some neighbors and friends. “Tareq was our only breadwinner. Now I have to pay for his expensive treatment in addition to the expenses of my small son. I don’t know how I will handle things in the future.”
