Who is taking care of them, asks Farah El-Akkad To Mustafa Abdel-Aziz, a 29-year-old carpenter, being part of the peaceful revolution was the right thing to do. However, in a battle with security forces, he lost one of his hands and both his eyes. Being the only breadwinner in a family of four children and his wife, the injured hero was not as lucky as many others who received medical treatment. With no rehabilitation benefits and no financial support, how is Abdel-Aziz supposed to survive? An 18-day revolt, followed by a series of violent clashes brought the reported number of dead to more than 1,000 and at least 30,000 injured. The wounded included cases of permanent blindness, paralyses and amputated limbs. The effect of the violent abuse revolutionists witnessed is far more damaging than what is said on TV or written in newspapers or by spokesmen of victims' coalitions. "Despite being called 'survivors', most of them wish they were dead because their suffering would've ended there," explains Yehia Tarek, an Egyptian human rights activist. But now they are left with no source of income, no means of supporting their families and a permanent disability. "The psychological damage which comes from being exposed to violence is a lot more serious than any physical illness," says Karim Youssef, 35, a psychiatrist who was part of many rehabilitation workshops set up after the revolution. Many Egyptian activists living in Egypt and abroad formed small workshops for the survivors of the revolution's violence, particularly those whose injuries caused permanent blindness. Many young psychologists and doctors played an important role in the rehabilitation process of the wounded especially because they were working in makeshift field hospitals in or around Tahrir Square where much of the violence played out. But such efforts didn't all succeed because they were made on a very small scale. "We're talking 400 people here," adds Youssef which isn't even close to the estimated number of injured. Youssef has worked with many people injured in the many deadly incidents of the revolution. Most are between 20 to 35 years old and were either students working to support themselves and/or their families. "The first aspect of the rehabilitation process was to focus on making them regain faith in themselves," explains Youssef. The process may take years of hard work with patients who suffer from a permanent disability caused by violent abuse. Most of the injured are people who were already suffering from financial problems and were having a hard time supporting their families with a very low income. This frame of mind many times affects other family members as well, leaving the whole family in distress and causing other social and psychological problems such as "taking the children out of school and forcing them to support the family, since now the father can't," states Youssef. What about now? A question with a very vague answer, which leaves us wondering about the future of those who opened their mouths for the first time and called for "change, freedom, and social justice". What is their fate? Are they destined to remain wheelchair-bound forever? They are heroes without doubt but what can we do to help them regain their strength and faith for a better future after being permanently blind or paralysed, apart from punishing those who committed human rights abuses against unarmed protesters which is the dream of every Egyptian? "This might give survivors some peace of mind but won't ever compensate them for their loss," Youssef says. As a psychiatrist, Youssef believes that all Egyptian human rights NGOs and institutes should unite for this cause along with the Association of Victims of the Revolution in order to make an effective move on a large scale and actually help these survivors become productive members in society. Adds Youssef: "and to have them witness the changes they made happen."
