During the violent popular protests following Mohammed Bouazizi’s self immolation, I regularly met with my two closest friends, Bassem and Fahmi. The first had salafist affiliations, while the second was a communist. Nevertheless, we used to share news and discuss the latest developments with utmost care and caution at one corner of a café. Even after we returned home, we would exchange encrypted SMSs to avoid any form of monitoring.

During the violent popular protests following Mohammed Bouazizi’s self immolation, I regularly met with my two closest friends, Bassem and Fahmi. The first had salafist affiliations, while the second was a communist. Nevertheless, we used to share news and discuss the latest developments with utmost care and caution at one corner of a café. Even after we returned home, we would exchange encrypted SMSs to avoid any form of monitoring.

My first real contribution was when I joined a protest in support of Sidi Bouzid, in front of the regional headquarters of the Tunisian General Labour Union (UGTT) in Medenine on December 26, 2010.

The next day, I participated in a rally led by lawyers, which started at Medenine Court of First Instance. There were great concerns about government crackdowns on the peaceful march, and it was anticipated to take strict actions against the lawyers and prevent them from leaving the courthouse. The police station headquarters of Medenine Governorate was adjacent to the courthouse, and despite attempts by the police force to close its main gate, lawyers took to the streets.

In the beginning, there were slogans of solidarity with the lawyers, such as: ‘Lawyers and farmers are together in the struggle’ and ‘O citizens, victims of repression, defend your cause.’ Then, large numbers of citizens joined in, and slogans intensified, resonating: ‘No to the people of Tripoli who looted the budget.’ There were strong slogans directly targeting top officials and the homes of Ben Ali and his in-laws. Only then did I come to know lawyers’ courage, and their brave defense of our legitimate right to demonstration.

The situation in Medenine later calmed down, but I remained in touch and watched continuous updates on Al-Jazeera and France 24 TV channels, in addition to some videos posted by some Facebook pages that largely contributed to the revolution; pages such as ‘The people of Tunisia burn themselves, Mr. President!’ and ‘ Smile a lot, you are not from Sidi Bouzid.

Revolution vs. study

On January 3, I joined the protesting sit-in at the Institut Préparatoire aux Etudes d’Ingénieurs in Tunis, where students formed the words ‘Free Tunisia’ with their bodies, a picture that traveled across the world. At that time, I frequented Bathaa Muhammad Ali Hami Square, the UGTT headquarters, almost on a daily basis. Previously, when I was in Medenine, I used to watch the unfolding events on satellite TVs.

This square was the bastion of struggle and the battlefield at which hundreds of students, trade unionists, and activists converged to support Sidi Bouzid, Kasserine, and Thala, and demand an end to the siege imposed by the bloody police force for days.

On January 13, 2011, Hammam-Lif region experienced a historic day whose early hours were calm and quiet, but foreshadowed a storm in the making. At around four o’clock in the evening, protests began to escalate; an unprecedented state of alert and news about spread of protests to neighboring regions. Fearing major insecurity and violent confrontations, cafés and shops were forced to close earlier than usual, and most citizens went home. But, I decided to join the huge mass rally gathered in front of the municipality headquarters, and the slogans demanded the overthrow of Ben Ali’s regime and the trial of his corrupt in-laws.

Sound of bullets

A few minutes later, the sound of bullets coming from afar was heard, and further ahead small clouds caused by tear gas bombs were seen across the horizon, in addition to columns of thick black smoke from burning tires.

At that moment, I saw a scene that made me more convinced of the end of Ben Ali.  An old man – owner of an oil store near the municipality headquarters – closed the store, climbed a short ladder, and with his fingernails, removed a picture of Ben Ali pasted on the door, fearing that his store could be attacked and burnt down.

I was convinced at the time that the country passed the point of no return, reaching a stage when all that was related to Ben Ali, no matter how distantly associated with him, was fuel for the revolution. Then, I pointed my finger at that old man and said to those standing next to me: ‘Ben Ali is finished.’

At sunset, as the night began to fall, columns of smoke from the other side of the railway near the police station appeared. I went along with two of my friends down the road leading to the police station, where we found a group of young revolutionaries spontaneously gathered, and were preparing to head to the station to express their extreme anger and hatred.

Clashes were started by the police without warning, firing random tear gas canisters toward the protesters. That was followed by shooting live bullets, and we responded by throwing stones, although we had fears of death or injury.

We were overwhelmed by a moment of revolutionary hysteria: the confrontational cost would not be higher than that of repression! Amid the hit-and-run situation, we heard screams coming from a house opposite the station; a bullet from the station hit Mohammed Nasser Talbi in the head, killing him in his house on the spot. We hurried towards the station, although many withdrew, fearing for their lives.

End of the regime

The security agents began to withdraw, leaving the police station a blaze. Then, I returned home, gasping for breath after the tear gas. I watched Ben Ali’s last speech, and I was sure his end had come. But I was shocked and could not believe my eyes when I saw people’s reaction on Facebook, and that the ruling party’s loyalists and mercenaries gathered at Habib Bourguiba Boulevard, praising what they described as Ben Ali’s ‘very revolutionary’ speech. At that moment, I felt that the revolution was being aborted by a silent and submissive majority of the public.

On January 14, I could not go to Tunis downtown. I spent the day at Hammam-Lif, amongst an angry crowd near the police station, in front of martyr Talbi’s house. Later, I watched TV to get the latest developments and news about the demonstration at Habib Bourguiba Boulevard. At last, the news of Ben Ali’s flight came up, and that was a moment of triumph mixed with great pain: unarmed young men were shot and killed and news about armed militias destined to finish everything in this country.

February 25, 2011 (Kasbah 2 Friday) is one of the most important days in my life. After participating in the large Kasbah sit-in, I headed to the Interior Ministry in Habib Bourguiba Boulevard where the police provoked the protesters who pelted them with stones. The people’s reaction was very strong.

That day turned into one of the most violent events, and it was the first attempt to storm the Interior Ministry in Tunisia’s history. I joined in the front rows throughout the night, despite the use of live bullets, until I was caught in a well-planned trap at about 11 p.m. near the intersection of Paris road and Habib Bourguiba Boulevard.

There was an attempt to beat me to death by more than 20 members of intervention units for over a minute without interruption (it felt like a year) until I was in a near unconsciousness situation. Divine intervention helped me when a police officer who was ordered to hand me over to the Interior Ministry, although he was of those who assaulted me, let me run away, saying ‘Run away! If you were to get to the Ministry’s prisons, you would not get out alive!’

I got entrenched inside the Colisée building where some good people took me to the emergency room at Charles Nicole Hospital. I received emergency treatment. The many wounds in my head were sutured, my hand was bandaged, and the other was put in plaster. Three ribs were fractured, which doctors said would have caused a puncture in the left lung.

I spent nearly a month unable to lie down in bed, followed by two months unable to move because of severe pain in the ribs. Afterward, I continued to participate in demonstrations and protests. On the contrary, I acquired immunity against all types of fear. On several occasions, I participated in demonstrations against El-Sebsi’s government, which came at the expense of our health, toil, and shouts at Kasbah protest rallies, despite my relative ill health. I said to myself: ‘The revolution cannot wait,’ trying to resist my pain and continue what I had started.

Elections shock

The October 23, 2011 elections came like a deadly shock for me. There were ballot boxes governed by suspicious money and led by holy ignorance: the people did not choose those who revolted along with them.

Afterwards, I devoted all my time and effort to participating in all field actions of protests, demonstrations, and sit-ins that adopted legitimate demands, on top of which the revolution’s, namely, freedom, dignity, employment, and regional development.

Parallel to my action in the field, I devoted a lot of attention to virtual action as well, achieved through update transfers, photo archiving of movements, and recording certain events. Considering my role as a participant in and as a reporter of events, a large number of my pictorial coverage and video recordings were in great demand, due to their closeness to events and the risk included in preparing these materials, some of which were broadcast by TV channels and even used as a testimony during accountability sessions of the Minister of Interior at the Constituent Assembly vis-à-vis the April 9 incidents.

Despite receiving offers and proposals to join organizations and associations specialized in citizenship journalism, I have chosen to retain my independence and freedom.

Sometimes, I feel exhausted, but I have always been guided by a saying of the eternal revolutionary, Ernesto Guevara: ‘I cannot live while revolution blood freezes inside me.’  April 9, 2012 was a day hot enough to ignite the flames of revolution afres”.

The Martyr Day demonstration comprised a mosaic of demonstrators from all walks of life, ages, agencies, and affiliations, all having the same demands. As was the case during the revolution, the April 9 demonstration incorporated ordinary citizens, politicized groups, partisans, trade unionists, workers, students, poor and wealthy, and women and men, young and old.

Even the revolution’s wounded took part in that demonstration; all were united by the same slogans raised during the revolution. They had the same demands: employment, freedom, dignity, and regional development. All these factors contributed to raise the morale of all participating revolutionaries who stood against tyranny, injustice, and corruption, regardless of their sources.

Unabated revolution

One of the most important reasons I was astounded by April 9 and the emphasis put on the morale pumped into the revolutionaries’ ranks, was the violent confrontations erupted in Jean Jaurès Avenue in Tunis between protesters armed with stones, and security forces heavily equipped with tear gas, bombs and batons and backed by militia reinforcements composed of deviant mercenaries hired by the ruling Ennahda Movement.

We liberated Habib Bourguiba Boulevard from the ruthless grip of the police force. In contrast, October 23, 2012 was a day that can be described as black and tragic because the people did not put an end to the so-called elections legitimacy. On that day, the time set by the Constituent Assembly for itself to draft the Constitution and call for elections ended.

Enthusiasm and the willingness to struggle and protest took on a semi-escalating trend in the revolutionaries’ psyche, especially after the April 9, 2012 epic. Afterwards, public tendency to keep up the pressure cooled down, because the vast majority of people remain a negative and effective link at the same time.