Iran, spring of freedom

By Hossain Farsi

Fresh snow from the night before had covered everywhere and drops of blood were visible on the ground. It was mid-winter 1981, and the weather in Tehran was bone-chilling cold. It was clear that it was the footsteps of a prisoner who had been severely tortured by the henchmen. The barbaric tortures were carried out based on Khomeini’s fatwa. The bloody footsteps led to the solitary confinement near us. We guessed that a new prisoner had joined our cell, or they had taken one of the older ones for torture the night before.

At that time they didn’t mix the detainees who had passed through their interrogation and torture process and with severe physical conditions were on death row with the others. The cell adjacent to us was for these individuals. They were kept in such conditions to the very end.

In the place where we were held, there were 3 collective cells. Each cell included a 4 x 5 meter room with 2 solitary confinement cells used for the tortured prisoners. Some 40 to 50 prisoners were kept in each cell. We slept in turns because of the lack of space. We would cramp up and maybe read book alongside each other. The solitary confinement cells were 2 x 1 meters and held 3 to 4 prisoners. The prisoners kept in the collective cells were going through the preliminary process and hadn’t entered the interrogation and torture process yet. The prisoners in the solitary confinement cells had each received at least 400 lashes to their feet. The bones of their feet were visible. Their feet had been infected because there was no treatment and their wounds were not attended to. The first time I witnessed one of these scenes I thought to myself that the prisoner must be crying in pain, after my first acquaintance everything changed. They all had high morale. I was surprised of their degree of resistance.

We were allowed to go to the bathroom twice a day. To my recollection, there were 2 or 3 bathrooms near the watchtower. They were given little time and we couldn’t reach the bathrooms. They tortured prisoners were unable to walk. We had to carry them to the bathrooms with wheelbarrows or on our backs. Among them, I knew Hossein. I don’t remember his last name. I met him in the PMOI’s Mashhad branch. I met him for the first time in 1980 while secretly selling the PMOI’s daily newspaper, the ‘Mojadeh’ in order to reveal Khomeini’s crimes. Here I was seeing him once again in the Mashhad Prison in the winter of 1981. I could feel his resilience and determination to stand to the very end and defend his principles through my dialogues with him. During the time we took them to the bathroom, although there were guards there watching us carefully, we had a good opportunity to talk and exchange news. I still remember their first names and their memories. These memories represent an oppressed nation’s bright resistance against the religious fascism ruling in Iran. My friend Hossein was one of these bright stars who in the path of Iran’s freedom endured imprisonment, torture and was ultimately executed. He even refused to give his name to the henchmen. Such memories might not be written anywhere, yet they will be passed on from generation to generation, until the day Iran will be free. The horizon of freedom is in sight and the Iranian people will taste the sweet savor of freedom soon.