Moslem Kasdallah rests on his crutches, the stump of his amputated leg on display. His voice hoarse, he yells the demands that, after years of delay, have brought him and the other wounded and bereaved of the Tunisian revolution to the steps of the government building they have been occupying since December.
Some are on hunger strike, others have sewn their lips shut. Kasdallah carries a bottle of fuel and a lighter, ready to self-immolate.
Yesterday marked 10 years since Tunisia’s autocrat Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali and his family fled the country for Saudi Arabia, drawing to a close the month of unrest that began with the death of Mohamed Bouazizi, a street vendor who set himself on fire. Compared with the carnage that would follow in Syria and across much of the Arab world, Tunisians escaped relatively lightly.
However, recognition for those killed and wounded during the volatile days and weeks between 2010 and 2011 remains disputed. After 10 years of pressure, the government has promised a provisional list, with final publication promised at some point before 20 March, to allow for appeals from those omitted.
It’s a proposal rejected by the wounded and the families of the deceased, who insist publication should have coincided with the revolution’s official anniversary.
Play Video
9:50
Tunisia and the Arab spring 10 years on: ‘We tried to rise’
“They shot six of us and wounded 13,” Kasdallah tells an interpreter, describing how police fired into the crowd in the coastal city of Monastir without warning. “I was with my father and my brother. The police wanted to kill us,” he says. “I was shot twice. At first I didn’t realise I’d been shot. It was only with the second shot that I realised what had happened.”
Recognising the dead and wounded of the revolution and including them in the official gazette is not a new idea. It was first suggested in 2011. Last October the Commission of Martyrs and the Wounded of the Revolution published an initial list of 129 dead and 634 wounded, but it carried no legal significance. Only with inclusion in the gazette does their involvement become legal fact.
In Tunis, the wounded and the families of the dead feel pushed almost to breaking point. Their initial protest in Kasbah Square, at the heart of government, was violently broken up by police in mid-December. Protesters moved to occupy the offices of Abderrazak Kilani, president of the General Authority of Resistance Fighters and Martyrs and Wounded of the Revolution and of Terrorist Attacks, whom many hold responsible for the delay. Some are convinced that other forces have been at play.
“The government is afraid of the public response to the list,” Lamia Farhani, a lawyer and president of the Association of Families of Martyrs and Wounded of the Revolution (Awfia), says.
Some would be angered by omission, says Farhani, whose brother, Anis, was shot by the police on 13 January 2011.
The security services have proved less than cooperative, with the ministry of the interior dragging its feet in sharing records, while the country’s powerful police unions lobbied for the inclusion of their own members.
‘He ruined us’: 10 years on, Tunisians curse man who sparked Arab spring
Read more
There was little appetite among the demonstrators in Tunis for sharing space with those who had shot and tortured them 10 years ago. Like many relatives of those killed, Farhani and her family know the name of the officer who pulled the trigger. Many officers involved are still serving. Some have been promoted. Those who have been jailed have frequently seen their sentences quietly reduced after conviction.
“There is also resistance from the state and those who were active within the old regime who are keen to keep events blurry,” Farhani says. “The list will make things official.”
It will preserve their names in Tunisia’s collective memory, she says. “It will be clear.”
The list’s final publication, whenever that may be, will mark a notable victory for most families, a further step in a battle towards justice. For some it is already too late.
Slightly distant from the rest of the crowd in central Tunis, a quiet group of women sit holding pictures of sons killed during the events of 2010 and 2011.
Among them is Om Saed Gharbi, 67, from Ariana, near Tunis. She has cancer and her husband died some time ago. She describes how her son Majdi died. He had been passing a protest on his way home from visiting neighbours following a tragedy of their own.
Just as he reached his family house, he was seized by the police and shot.
She has no doubts over her reasons for demanding the list be published. “In every country in the world the names of the martyrs are recognised. I want the same in Tunisia. I want history books to record my son’s name and for future generations to know it.”
Свежие комментарии