Iran Human Rights, May 9, 2012
It has been two years since the event that none of us want to hear about— the day when the Iranian people everywhere were as sad as Kurdistan and the Kurdish people. It was the day when another page in Iran’s tragic history was written in the land of Kurdistan. The Kurdish history has seen so many bitter days throughout the years.
When we listen to [the stories] of our elders it makes it difficult to experience peaceful and joyful days, [because we cannot] ignore and abandon the many events, pains, and sufferings that have become an integral part of Kurdistan: the military campaigns, the ideological conflicts, the sacking of this city and the massacre of people in another city. Sometimes bullets were fired to assassinate and other times to silence the voices of dissent. In the course of a greedy and obstinate war, bombardments and missiles were launched by both sides— and tragedies like massacres, chemical attacks, and revenge caused the Kuridsh land to be bereaved of [lively] moments. And, conspiracies and sentiments of bitterness aimed to rob us of our friendships and unity in Iran. The arrests, reactions, massacres, hate, endless executions, and fate of our missing loved ones made friendship, peace, sweet songs, pleasant roads, and all the beauty of our land more foreign and unattainable. The elders are tired, worn out, and brokenhearted. به خواندن ادامه دهید
Majid Tavakoli :They announced that Ali was being sent to ward 209. The phones in the halls were disconnected. I tried to call from the phone in my hall, but that too was disconnected.
When we went upstairs, Farzad said that they had announced that he will also be moved to ward 209, but it turned out to be a lie. He was moved to ward 240 instead.
The announcement on Saturday afternoon had worried us all. They usually announce the executions for political prisoners on Saturdays. An intense sadness took over my body, but Farzad kept saying that nothing was going to happen. He said they were only going to ask him a few questions. He knew what was awaiting him, but, as always, he had a positive attitude and tried to make the best of the situation. به خواندن ادامه دهید
The Islamic Republic’s recent execution of five Kurds has sparked outrage in northern Iraq, and renewed unrest at home.
Two days after the hanging of five Iranian Kurds in Tehran, protesters gathered across the Iraqi border in the Kurdish city of Suleymanieh. Thousands of them crowded into the city’s leafy Freedom Park, where Javad Alizadeh, a well-known former political prisoner in Iran who had recently left for Iraqi Kurdistan, addressed the gathering. The Iranian regime «follows neither the principles of republicanism, nor does it abide by holy laws of Islam,» Alizadeh declared. «The Islamic Republic has shown in the past 30 years that it only cares about its own survival and it will not abstain from committing the vilest of acts in achieving its goal.» به خواندن ادامه دهید
I was listening to my cellmate’s lullaby, he was singing for his daughters Parya and Zahra. His melancholic lullaby was followed by the sobs of another cellmate, and I burst into tears too. It was the second time that he was arrested. The first time, he was sentenced to one year in jail, and this time he has to serve another 10 years. All his joy and excitement was about seeing his children who would visit him on Monday.
On the day of the visit, the children, without caring that they were surrounded by people and before their parents’ eyes (and in the middle of the seats and chairs of the visit hall), jumped up and down and performed hand stands to show their father their progressing athletic abilities.
The father, who was proud of his children, wore a smile. The mother, with her innocent expression, was trying to deny her pain of solitude and expectation. She was looking at her husband with joy and at her children’s excitement with love. به خواندن ادامه دهید
The purpose of this letter is not to pinpoint the problems of the Kurds and deny the inequalities that exist among the Baluchis, Turks, Persians, and Arabs. By adopting a sympathetic comradely toward others, one can regard themselves as a religious or ethnic minority, and thereby recognize the pains of others. We are people too.
The Kurdish story is the story of the woman who gets nothing from her matrimony but insults and beatings. When her husband was asked, “You don’t really pay for her expenses nor do you show any love to her, so why do you beat and belittle her every day?” He replied, “If I don’t do this, how will anyone know I’m her husband?”
Now for our story. In Iran’s mainstream political discourse, the words Kurds and Kurdistan unfortunately imply separatism and have anti-revolutionary and anti-security (regional) connotations. It is as though the words Kurds and Kurdistan are uninvited guests and have no affinity with Iran. به خواندن ادامه دهید
We are ashamed. We are ashamed because we stood by and watched you leave us. We watched you limp and we didn’t say anything. I am not sure whether it was because we were mesmerized by your kind smile or perhaps it was our feet which didn’t want to walk toward you. I am not sure, but our hands were tied. Maybe you were too tall for us to reach. Whatever it was, we learned lessons of resistance and we experienced shame. Whatever it was, we saw that one can die even standing up.
We are ashamed. We are ashamed because we knew you wouldn’t come back to us and we kept on living! We kept pointing at you, but we never showed our faces.
You became the Christ of our ideals and our silence turned into a noose around your neck. We are ashamed. We are ashamed of the sorrowful face of a woman who kept sowing seeds of hope when you weren’t there, and now that you are gone, she is learning to be patient. به خواندن ادامه دهید
Oh storm,put away your rusty axe
a daffodil wants to blossom.
A child wants to go to sleep.
Oh guns! Go silent and dumb
You said that you liked my letter titled, *Baba Aab Daad and that it really resonated with you. To be honest, I wrote that letter from the bottom of my heart for my students and for my own childhood. I put my dreams and wishes down on paper. My childhood of our generation had a deep impact in all aspects of our lives.
I do not remember any poems from my childhood. They never taught us any poems. I only realized in the third decade of my life that I was supposed to receive a round ball as a reward from my father and extend my legs before my mom could [sing to me the Persian folk song] Atal Matal…
It was our teachers who should have taught us to write poems for the sun and the sky. We should have grown taller with the trees. We should have flowed along with the rivers. We should have flown across the sky with the butterflies.
We should have, we should have… به خواندن ادامه دهید