Tear Gas Didn't Make Us Cry

A WOUNDED INNOCENCE

My next visual was light, white light shining straight down at my face. I had no idea how long it had been, I didn't even know if half the things I had in my immediate but blur memory were even real. Although the environment was new, I felt relaxed at least compared to how I was a while ago, or maybe a few hours ago. I was on a bed, but it wasn't mine, and though I wasn't on the campus anymore, there was still a lot of commotion. I still had trouble thinking clearly. I saw a hazy figure coming towards me, perhaps it was a policeman, or a teacher or just a random stranger. Even though I might not have known him, I stopped him and asked for some water. He said something but I was too busy trying to sit up straight to understand. I struggled but finally sat up. By then he already had a glass in hand to offer me. As soon as I took the first sip, I felt like I had my life and consciousness restored. I looked up to see who it was that I stopped. He looked like a doctor.
I was in a hospital and by the looks of it, it was a busy one. I finished drinking my water and stood up. My leg still had a bit of a cramp but I could walk. The loud ringing in my ear had stopped but I don't think I was at full hearing capacity just yet. I looked around me, and all I saw was either doctors or students. There were some familiar faces, of those whom I knew or had just come across once or twice. There were also some unfamiliar faces and some faces just too disfigured to identify. There weren't enough beds to accommodate all the injured students, hence some were on the floor. Some sitting while some lying down. Just then I came across a bed on which I saw a familiar face. A face I wish I never had to see in that condition. It was Mohammed. His face swelled, with a dark patch under his left eye and a bandage above his right one. I called out to him with a crack in my voice. He didn't hear me the first two times I called, but on the third he looked at me. We instantly burst into tears. There wasn't much to say to each other. Only when I approached him was when I saw his condition for what it was. His right arm was broken, and his foot was bandaged too. I looked at a window nearby and saw my own reflection. My head was covered in bandages, my arms too. My foot was perhaps sprained but it wasn't as painful as the rest of my body. I somehow managed to kneel down near his bed. We still had tears in our eyes. He asked me about Hussein and I nodded telling him I didn't know. We had known each other long enough to understand the others body language.
A nurse came by our bed and tapped on my shoulder. I turned to her and stood up. I still had a harsh throat, maybe from the screaming but I asked her if she knew if a student named Hussein was here. She told us that there were too many students here and that they hadn't had the chance to get a complete list of who all they were. She then asked me if I needed any more medical attention. My mind was somewhere else, wondering where Hussein was, wondering what happened while I was unconscious, wondering how I got here. She snapped her fingers in front of my face and asked me again, "Do you need any more medical assistance"? I looked at her and nodded and said no thank you. She directed me to a counter and asked me to fill in some details and told me that I was free to leave. I approached the counter and filled in what I was asked. I took another look at Mohammed and then walked out. Throughout the hallway, there were students and staff members, all in devastating conditions.
I would always remember this particular treatment and sight of the Holy Family Hospital. I was tired and terrified at the same time. I saw a few police officers near the exit and I almost froze on the spot. Just then a hand touched my shoulder and I turned around. It was a man, maybe in his 30's. He looked at me reassuringly and walked me out. As I came out, the sight of so many people surprised me. The man held me by my shoulder again and asked me to follow him. He asked me if I could sit on a bike in my current condition. I said I would try and got on his bike. It took me a few embarrassing efforts but I securely made it on. He drove me home, but used the way near the police station. I could see a crowd of hundreds in front of the headquarters, all demanding for justice. The man told me that a lot of the students were still detained inside. It was still unclear when they would be released but they were sure that the police wasn't providing them with medication or any basic necessities. We finally reached home. I thanked the man as I got off and saw him race off with his motorcycle back in the direction of the hospital. When I entered home, my aunt looked at me as if I came back from the dead. She hugged me tightly and told me how worried they were. My uncle and cousin were searching around all the police stations and medical centers to get my whereabouts. My phone too had died so they couldn't contact me. I lied down on the couch while she got me something to eat. She then called my uncle and told him that I was finally home. It was truly a long day.