It is Monday, February 1, the eighth day of the Tahrir Square demonstrations. Dr. Kamal Absonna sits on a small chair. The 40-year-old surgeon appears exhausted, deep black rings beneath his eyes. On a stool next to him, a white plastic container sits filled with surgical tools and a deep-red liquid. Medical tape and small bottles of antiseptic lie scattered around the container. A fetid, rank smell fills the room as injured people lie on mats on the floor, being attended to by doctors. Nearby, a row of men stand, preparing themselves for prayer, before kneeling and touching their foreheads to the ground.This is Masjid Al-Rahman, a mosque temporarily converted into an immediate response medical center since the anti-government protests broke out. The medical center is just a few short steps away from Tahrir Square, making it the first stop for people injured or falling ill during the protests.
Absonna, a lecturer of surgery at Al-Azhar University’s faculty of medicine for the past 13 years, has been at the mosque daily, spending between 10 and 12 hours each day working with around 20 other doctors and nurses on a voluntary basis. He says that the response from the community has been incredible, with people bringing in piles of bandages, blankets, medicine and food. However, the volunteers have at times struggled to deal with influxes of injured persons. “We had many people bleeding from the neck and head, one man shot in the ankle,” Absonna says. “Many people who choked to death on teargas.”
The doctor says he has treated wounds — chunks of skin cleaved out of heads — caused by rocks, people suffering from tear-gas inhalation, exhaustion and dehydration.
Nearby, an elderly woman lies propped up by a pillow, her left leg stretched out, crutches laying beside her. Absonna, dressed in a white medical jacket, says he wants to support the protestors in whatever way he can. “I am made happy by this work. We suffered from the regime and from all the dangerous people on the street. Here, we help people 24 hours each day.”
Another woman breathes through an oxygen mask while nurses hurry about, stocking shelves with donated medical supplies. The doctors and nurses at Masjid Al-Rahman work on rotation, juggling commitments at home and at hospitals throughout Cairo, deciding on who takes what shifts according to availability.
It is an ad-hoc affair that illustrates the community spirit that has united Cairo’s residents since the protests began: from neighborhood watch groups, to people of all religious persuasions protesting together, to temporary medical centers.
For Absonna, there is no place he would rather be than here, helping the sick and wounded. “We had 13 deaths here on day four [January 28]. If things get worse, I think we will be able to cope. We refer more serious cases to the major hospitals.”
Some people have volunteered to drive those patients, the doctor explains, as ambulances are unable to reach the square quickly. Musing briefly on the thought of Mubarak stepping down, Absonna says, “Maybe we will have more difficulties, but we will have our country.”
Then he turns his attention back to the work at hand. Walking through the clinic — a chaotic and hectic jumble of bandages, rubber gloves, camera crews and people eating plates of rice — Absonna gives a patient a quick triage. “We can provide only basic treatment. Perhaps we will save some lives. That’s the important thing.” |
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