Ferdosieh Nikoumanesh

(9 Sep 2010 – Radio Free Europe) Ferdosieh Nikoumanesh remembers a time when she and her family couldlive in peace as practicing Baha’is in the Iranian city of Ivel, where more than 50 Baha’i homes were demolished in June. Her childhood home, her grandparents’ home, and her grandfather’s store were among the many properties burned to the ground. Nikoumanesh and her husband now live in a suburb of Washington, D.C.

Nikoumanesh spent many of her childhood summers in Ivel, northeast of Tehran in Mazandaran Province, visiting her grandparents, who lived in the village until 1983.

She left Ivel when she was a little girl but still holds many memories of living alongside practicing

Ivel, Mazandaran, Iran

Muslims. Baha’is have resided in Ivel for more than 160 years and once made up more than half of the population — building schools, a hospital, and stores.

While her family’s homes and shop were destroyed this summer, her memories remain alive.

“The best part of the summer was with my grandparents. The feelings I have toward the land [in Ivel] are because of how my grandparents took us there and showed us how to experience its generosity,” she said.

She recalled raising livestock, picking flowers in the rich landscape, and having candlelit dinners over storytelling.

The current Iranian government made no apparent efforts to prevent the destruction of the Baha’i homes last June, nor has an investigation been launched into who orchestrated the demolition, despite efforts by the Baha’i community to seek justice.

On August 12, U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton issued her strongest statement yet in support of the Baha’i community and in opposition to Iran’s repression of religious minorities. “The United States is deeply concerned with the Iranian government’s continued persecution of Baha’is and other religious minority communities in Iran,” Clinton said in a statement. “The United States is committed to defending religious freedom around the world, and we have not forgotten the Baha’i community in Iran.”

While the United States may have stepped up its criticism, the people of Ivel have yet to find justice for the loss of their homes.

The home, since destroyed, of the grandparents of Ferdosieh Nikoumanesh. "The best part of the summer was with my grandparents," says Ferdosieh Nikoumanesh.

“Two Baha’i men from Ivel — Faramarz Rohani and Mahmood Piri — sent letters and complained to the courts in Saari, Kia Sar, and Telma Dare. None of them gave the right response,” said Nikoumanesh. “They even said since this order was from the higher courts, nothing could be done.”

While the international community has spread awareness of the issue and many Muslims in the country oppose the destruction of Baha’i property, the government has done little to respond.

“Recently, there have been many attacks on Baha’i homes, cemeteries dug up, and sites of worship destroyed,” said Shastri Purushotma, the human rights representative for the U.S. Baha’i community. “But how can 50 houses be demolished without some prior arrangement to do that level of demolition? We don’t have documents showing the government was behind it, but all of these things need planning, heavy equipment, and government support.”

Nikoumanesh hopes to one day return to Ivel but knows the dangers she would face if she visited anytime soon. She and many members of the Iranian Baha’i diaspora continue to push for accountability in acts of vandalism toward Baha’is.

“My grandparents have passed, but we children still have faith in being able to return to Ivel and re-experience good moments of our childhood we had there,” she says.

She then recited a poem written by Ali Ahmadi on the destruction of homes in Ivel:

“Oh, home, you
are still alive
even if it’s not
within your walls
within our hearts you are.”

– Ladan Nekoomaram & Sarvazad Katouzian

Source: http://www.rferl.org/content/Bahais_In_Iran_Await_Justice_for_Demolished_Homes_Graves/2153322.html

By Ma‘man Rezaee

Distributed by: Committee of Human Rights Reporters

We sat for hours in the waiting room at Evin prison, waiting for them to read their names. A voice announced: Mahvash Sabet! Fariba Kamalabadi! Vahid Tizfahm! Afif Naeemi! Jamaloddin Khanjani! Behrouz Tavakkoli! Saeed Rezaee!

We scaled the stairs without delay. All eyes were filled with excitement. We tried to reach the top as soon as possible so as not to keep our dear ones waiting.

An entire week of longing, in exchange for fifteen minutes of visitation! This is an injustice. We all know that, but when we see their innocent eyes gazing at us from the other side of the prison glass, we forget all the hardship and all the injustice.

This tale has been going on for the past sixteen months.

These seven honorable and innocent souls, like hundreds of their compatriots, have been in the fetters of injustice for sixteen months now. They have been waiting for their court date for sixteen months, the court that is supposed to have been held this week after several successive postponements.

Every time my father hears such news, he smiles. Behind his smile hides a world of emotions – a world filled with calm and trust, strengthened by faith in the path he has chosen to tread – a world filled with the sorrows and distress of a heart that thirsts for freedom.

When the visit allows, I embrace his withered body and squeeze his cold hands to transfuse my love and energy into it. He turns to each one of us and asks about our lives and our activities. He teases Payvand, whose first years of youthful life were deprived of having a father. He embraces him with all his strength.

He tells us about his prison days, the days which are being wasted in the monotony of prison life instead of being used to serve his community. Each one of them is facing a particular physical hardship, while they are deprived of things as basic as having a bed to sleep on. They know full well that sacrifice is needed to achieve their high ideals, and this is the price they have to pay for it.

In the past few months they have been accused of many crimes, yet they defend their beliefs and the Bahá’í community by drawing from their faith, as steadfast as a mountain. This community, which has been the target of many injustices and much persecution, is worried, more than ever, about the fate of those who served as its seven leaders, and of those who have been put in prison solely for their beliefs. It is not clear what will happen to them now.

While visiting him, I gaze into my father’s eyes, and with tears running down my face, I am immersed in deep thought: What will happen if the court does not follow the basic principles of justice and human rights, and deprives us all for ever from having the bounty of a father that brings us calm and love? How can I continue to live, when his absence has already created a vacuum in my life over the past several months?

I do know that the suffering of the months past, and the hardship of being away from our fathers and mothers, and the days these dear ones spend in prison without any guilt, will not be forgotten. The effect of such steadfastness will be manifest, and we will have a proud and free country for all, without prejudice against their beliefs or religions. I do believe in this, and I will continue to live with hope for that day and with hope to visit my father again.

Ma‘man Rezaee (the daughter of Saeed Rezaee)

Source: http://www.iranpressnews.com/source/066983.htm

Translation by Iran Press Watch.

By Dr. Majid Naficy

Recently, a letter was published over the signature of 42 Iranian intellectuals addressed to the Baha’i community and proclaiming “one and a half century of persecution and our silence is enough”.  The title of the letter was We are Ashamed.

Over a month ago, Mr. Khosro Shemiranie sent this letter to me to sign.  Even though from the age of fourteen I have been saddened by what Baha’is have been going through and I have written about it, I responded that I could not sign it since it was instigated by a “feeling of shame” and “collective sin” and not “seeking justice and freedom of conscience”.  I added, “If you reword this letter in which the phrase ‘We are Ashamed’ is repeated thirteen times and change it to ‘We arise to defend the rights of Baha’is’, you can be sure that I will sign it without any hesitation.”

Now that this open letter has been published and broadly disseminated, and many others have joined as signatories, I find it necessary to write my reasons for not signing it.  I hope by launching this discussion, I can bring to light the tyranny and persecutions to which Baha’is have been subjected during the rule of the three regimes of Qajar, Pahlavi and Khomeini over the past 160 years.

1. My First Encounter with Baha’is

The first time I got to know a Baha’i was in Sa’di High School in Isfahan, when I was in the seventh grade.  His name was Golestan Mossafaei, and he was in the eleventh grade.  I met him at our school’s Literature Club.  The club was managed by Mohammad Hoquqi, our teacher and resident poet.  This club did not last long; it shut down under the pressure imposed by prejudiced school officials.

Golestan always had a sweet smile, and sometimes he composed poems.  A few times I went to his house, which was located close to a stream in Darvazeh Hasanabad.  It was a modest house with one room. Even that room was barely furnished.  Golestan explained how their house had been set on fire a few times, by an anti-Baha’i group called Hojjatiyeh.

Flyers had also been thrown into their yard, pressuring them to leave their residence.

I felt deeply sad hearing about the tyranny inflicted on Golestan and his family.

I wrote a short story about it, and read it to members of my literary circle “Jong-e Isfahan”.

The vice principal of the school was furious about my friendship with Golestan, and told my father that Majid had been entrapped by Baha’is.  My father gave me a worn-out booklet called “Memoires of Prince Dolgoruki”, the Russian Ambassador in Iran from 1846-1854, who allegedly claimed that the Baha’i movement had been started by Russians in order to destroy Iran and the Shiah sect of Islam.  My mother forbade me from having a friendship with Golestan Mossafaei.  She made such a monster of Golestan that whenever my four year old sister was mad at me, she would say, “Get lost Mofassaaei”.

School teachers collaborated in pressuring me, and failed me in “calligraphy” when I was in grade 7!  I was a bright student who had passed grade six with an average above 90.  In the eighth grade, I was given failing grades in “calligraphy”, “religion”, “algebra” and “geometry”, and had to retake the exams for these subjects at the end of summer. I was not given passing grades and had to repeat grade 8 the following year.  This was the first big failure of my life, and taught me a lesson in resilience.  I left day school, and enrolled in a night school so that I would be able to complete two grades in one year.

Sa’di High School was run by a religious mafia, composed of a few teachers and a fanatically religious vice principal.  At the top of the group, there was a physics teacher whose name was Nuri and looked like a shopkeeper in the old bazaar.  His shirts were buttoned up to the chin, and his face was always unshaven.  He was the one who shut down our literature club, with the excuse that the organizer of the club disseminated the atheistic views of the prominent novelist, Sadeq Hedayat (1903-51), and caused students to drift away from Islam.  Two mullahs by the names of Rohani and Faqih-Imami were our “religion” teachers.  Another Mullah named Fazaeli, with good penmanship, taught us calligraphy. Even though he had a close relationship with the Shah’s appointed rulers in Isfahan, he also had close ties with our school religious mafia.[1]

After two years of studying at night school, I enrolled in another high school called Harati. That school was not free of staunch religious, fanatical teachers either.

I remember on cold winter days, as we heard the school bell ring, we had to stand still on the spot and listen to Mr. Parvaresh.  After the revolution when he was appointed a Minister, we found out that he had been a member of an anti-Baha’i group [Hojjatieh Society -- see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hojjatieh].  He would sprinkle his religious speech with aphorism from Imam Ali in three languages, English, Arabic and Persian, showing off his talent!

2. Shaykhis and Mullahs

About the same time, impressed by the book Tat Neshinha-ye Boluk Zahra [The Tat People of the Zahra County] written by Jalal Al-Ahmad (1923-69), I became interested in the rural life of Iran and in traveling to a small village called Jandaq situated on the edge of Dasht- Namak desert.  Inhabitants of this village told me that they were followers of a sect called Shaykhi Baqiri.  This enticed me to started reading Shaykhi books.  I realized that the teachings of Shaykh Ahmad Ahsa’i (1753-1826) and his successor, Siyyid Kazim Rashti (1793-1843) had been instrumental for the appearance of Ali-Muhammad the Bab (1819-50) [co-founder of the Baha'i Faith].

After the death of Siyyid Kazim Rashti, one of the Qajar Princes, Aqa Karim Khan Kermani (1810-1871) became the Shaykhi leader.  In order to stop his followers from accepting the Bab, he turned into the most active anti-Babi mullah of his time.

Shaykhis grew in number and influence under him and his heir’s leadership.  Even Mozaffari’d-Din Shah considered himself a Shaykhi.

After Karim Khan Kermani, the Shaykhi school of thought was divided into two branches.

One branch that was in the majority considered Karim Khan’s son as their leader and the Fourth Pillar (that is, the intermediary between the Hidden Imam and his followers, which is similar to Khomeini’s idea of Velayet-e Faqih, “rule by jurists”).  The other branch, under the leadership of Mohammad-Baqir Hamadani, rejected the heredity nature of the Fourth Pillar.  They became known as Shaykhi Baqiris.

After studying Shaykhi books, I concluded that some of Shaykh Ahmad’s views seemed more logical than the views of his Shiah counterparts.  For example, resurrection at the Day of Judgment (known as Hurqalya) was the resurrection in a softer and more refined form– not a physical reconstruction.  I found the Babi movement attractive only to the extent that it was egalitarian and the fact that a courageous female poet by the name of Tahirih Zarrin-Taj (1814 or 1817-1852) was one of its prominent followers.  Other than that, from a young age, I was not interested in religious ideology.

My paternal grandfather, Abu-Torab, who had left the city of Kerman to settle in Pudeh, a small village near Isfahan, did not accept the heredity branch of the Shaykhis.  Going through my father’s library, I came across a few manuscripts of his grandfather, and once briefly read through one which explored the philosophical issue of free will versus predestination.

My father believed that there were no differences between Shaykhi and currently practiced Shiah schools, and that it was just a matter of whom each group considered to be their Source of Emulation.  However, I had the feeling that my parents were afraid of becoming known as Shaykhis and kept secret their meetings for the purpose of studying and discussing the books of Kermani and Hamadani.

Among the views of Shaykhi Baqiris, my father liked their distrust of traditional mullahs. Among contemporary Islamic thinkers, my father liked Ali Shariati (1933-77), an Iranian scholar who was against the cast of clergy.  I remember my father, while driving for picnics on Fridays, used to sing a folk song making fun of mullahs:

“I am a mullah, a mullah / Stayed overnight in a stable / A flea came and bit me / I kicked my quilt off/ Burnt my cot / And broke my teaspoon / I am a mullah, a mullah / Stayed overnight in a stable”.

In Iranian folktales, a mullah was often pictured as a “cunning fox”, and as a creature obsessed with food, overeating and sexual excesses, while pretending to be pious and self righteous.  Khomeini was well aware of how mullahs were portrayed and their reputation.  After the revolution, imitating his teacher, Abdul-Karim Haeri-Yazdi, Khomeini, in one of his speeches, changed the famous proverb “How easy to become a mullah, how hard to become a human!” to “How hard to become a mullah, impossible to become a human”.  He was trying to influence the subconscious of the masses and to overcome their innate sense of mistrust and resentment towards the mullahs.

3. From Tahirih to Ezzat

From 1964 to 1981, occasionally I came upon or heard about Baha’is.  For example, I heard about Bahram Sadeqi (1936-86), a renowned storywriter from Najafabad who was a Baha’i.

However, it was on September 17, 1981, when I found myself again in a situation in which I felt that I had the same destiny as Baha’is.

It was over two years since the revolution in Iran.  Fundamentalist militant rulers were violently persecuting and executing members of the Iranian National Front and the leftist organizations.  These groups were the ones that had played a crucial role in uprooting the Pahlavi regime.

On September 16, my wife and comrade, Ezzat Tabaian, left the house.  That night, she phoned a friend and hurriedly told him that while being chased by the Islamic Militia, she had fallen and broken her pelvic bone.  My wife asked him to contact me and tell me to quickly destroy all “incriminating evidence” in the house.  The next day, the same friend asked if I had a safe place to spend the night, knowing that our home would not be spared from attacks.  When I replied that I had nowhere to go, he suggested a large house on Lashkar square that belonged to his old aunt.

I knew his aunt was a Baha’i, and her house would not be a safe place either.  However, we had no choice but to go to his aunt’s house.  A deft servant opened the door and led us in.  The old aunt told us how Islamic forces had arrested the last members of the Spiritual Assembly of the Baha’is of Tehran.  She was worried about her own safety as well.

That night, I had the strange feeling that Tahirih, the courageous Babi female poet was talking to me from the edge of the well into which she had been thrown after being strangled, 150 years before.  I was seeing a connection between Tahirih and the painful fate of my wife in the claws of her tormentors.  A few years later on September 18, 1986, I wrote a poem, Raftam Golat Bechinam [I Went to Find your Flower] published in a collection of poems under the same title, about the events of three days after the arrest of my wife Ezzat. The second part of the poem relates to the old Baha’i woman who offered me her home as refuge:

I have hardly fled

The slaughter place of a Marxist

To take refuge in a Baha’i’s.

Is there a lesson here for me?

In the deserted courtyard

Where the yellow leaves rustle

And the lonely goldfish

Circles in the green water,

A secret is revealed to me:

The bloody body of Zarrin Taj is still

Hanging over the prison’s well.

- Have you seen my Isaac?

The old building echoes my words.

“Ezzat”s and “Tahirih”s had the same destiny.  On January 7, 1982, Ezzat and another leftist woman, along with fifty leftist men, faced the firing squad.  Their bodies were dumped in the Khavaran cemetery located southeast of Tehran.  Two months before that, I had gone to the same cemetery with my wife to visit the grave of a relative, Sadeq Okhovat, who had faced the firing squad.  At that time, there were perhaps fewer than 30 graves at Khavaran.  The second visit was for my wife, and I was accompanied by my brother-in-law, Hosein Okhovat-Moqadam.  However, when Hosein was executed a few weeks later, I could not bring myself to visit the Khavaran cemetery again.

Later I learned that three days before my wife was executed — that is, on January 4, 1982 — six members of the Spiritual Assembly of the Baha’is of Tehran had been executed and their bodies had been dumped in the same cemetery.

On January 2009, this cemetery was demolished by the Islamic Government of Iran.

It was the resting place of 50 Baha’is, and thousands of other freedom-seeking Iranians.

4. The Test of the Broadmindedness of Iranians

I know about the sufferings endured by Baha’is not only from books, but also from seeing it first hand in my own day-to-day life.  Their sufferings date back to the time of the Shah of Iran, particularly in the 1950s, when with the Shah’s approval and using the national radio, Mohammad-Taqi Falsafi would deliver blistering sermons which provoked mobs to attack Baha’i holy places.

This trend has continued under the present reign of the Islamic Republic of Iran, which has been governing for the past 30 years, and has executed over 200 Baha’is solely on the ground that they were Baha’is.  Baha’is do not have the slightest basic human or civil rights as Iranian citizens.  In an article which I wrote in 2004 titled “Shirin Ebadi and Freedom of Conscience”, I recognized:

Defending the Baha’is must be considered a litmus test for any intellectual Iranian claiming that they honor human rights. In the Islamic government of Iran, there is no place for any Baha’i, Buddhist, Hindu, atheist, or the like. This is because according to Article 13 of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic, the only recognized religious minorities are Zoroastrian, Jewish, or Christian Iranians.

Among the many minority groups that are legally deprived of their right to freedom of conscience, the situation of the Baha’is has been in particular the bleakest.

From the inception of this religion, dating back to the era of Mohammad Shah Qajar, the Iranian Shiah clergy have been leading open attacks on this community [i.e. Babis and Baha’is].  The clergy imagined that the appearance of the Bab robbed them of their messianic claim to the expected Hidden Imam, Who is suppose to appear at the “end of time” to fill the world with justice.  They believe that the appearance of the Bab took away from them the raison d’etre of Shi’ism.

During the final decade of the Shah’s regime, rumors began to be spread by fanatical groups known for their anti-Baha’i stance, aimed at provoking the people with mentally-sick hatred against the Baha’is, that Baha’is were supporters of the Shah.  These false rumors became so widespread that even after the 1979 revolution, when in 1981 the regime began to intensely suppress the opposition including the Baha’is, Iranian intellectuals hesitated to defend the Baha’is against oppression – even when they could see perfectly well that Baha’is were being imprisoned, tortured, and executed merely for being Baha’i.  It is for this reason that I consider the single most important quality of a democratic-minded Iranian is to be a supporter of the right of Baha’is to their religion and not heed the fictitious excuse that “Baha’is are members of a political party and not a true religion”.

5. The Test of the Broadmindedness of Baha’is

After the publication of my article on Shirin Ebadi and the freedom of consciousness referred to above, I was asked: if the test of broadmindedness of an Iranian is in his defense of the rights of Baha’is, then what defines the broadmindedness of a Baha’i?

In my opinion, a democratic Iranian Baha’i must not only defend the rights of all heterodox thinkers in Iran, but must first and foremost defend the rights of the followers of Azal who call themselves by the name Bayani.  Only then can a Baha’i be worthy of the title of free and democratic.

To make this matter more clear, I will explain something that happened in 1987 in Los Angeles.  I was invited to a poetry night, and recited the poem raftam golat bechinam, from which a stanza was quoted above.  Among the attendees was a Baha’i couple.  At that time, in this poem I had used the word Babi instead of Baha’i.  Afterwards, the Baha’i woman asked, “Why did you use the word Babi?  Today there are no Babis and they all have become Baha’is.”

Her question and comment not only demonstrated the narrow-mindedness and exclusivity of some Baha’is towards the minority group of the Babi-Azalis, but it also illustrates the narrow-mindedness of many Iranian leftists, of which I had been one, as well.

At this point is it necessary to briefly look at the history of the emergence of the Babi movement and the divisions that took place within it.

6. The Azalis and the Baha’is

At the age of 24, Ali-Muhammad Shirazi in 1844 declared himself to be the Bab, which means he was the gate to the Promised One of Shia Islam.  He later confirmed that indeed He was the Promised One himself.  Shortly before His execution in 1850 in Tabriz, He named one of His followers, a 14-year-old youth named Mirza Yahya Nuri, to be His successor and gave him the title Subh-i Azal.[2]

After the premiership of Amir Kabir, efforts to eradicate the Babis increased in intensity and many of them were compelled to leave their native land.  In 1863, Mirza Husayn-Ali, known as Baha’u’llah, declared himself to be “He Whom God Shall Make Manifest”, Whose appearance was foretold by the Bab.  Baha’u’llah was a step-brother of Mirza Yahya (Subh-i Azal) and was 13 years his senior.  At the time, both brothers lived in Edirne, a town in the Ottoman Empire.

Mirza Yahya did not accept his brother’s claim and the differences between the two caused enmity and bloodshed among the Babis.  Eventually, in order to alleviate the situation, the Ottoman government was forced to exile Yahya to Cyprus and Baha’u’llah to Palestine.

Edward Browne (1862-1929), an English scholar who visited both brothers, writes about this bloodshed which resembles the enmity between Shiah and Sunni in Islam or Trotsky and Stalin at the time of Bolshevism.[3]

The followers of Baha’u’llah proclaimed their mission to be for the entire world and quickly grew in numbers. However, the followers of the younger brother [Mirza Yahya], returned to or stayed in Iran to fight against the political system and to reduce the influence of the Qajar dynasty.  Two of Mirza Yahya’s sons-in-Law, Mirza Aqa Khan Kermani and Shaykh Ahmad Ruhi, emerged at the forefront of the Iranian Constitutional Revolution (1905-11).

They gave their life in this path in Tabriz.  During the 1909 interval in which the Iranian Constitution was suspended, the successor of Mirza Yahya by the name of Yahya Dawlatabadi was collaborating with the prominent writer Ali-Akbar Dehkhoda (1879-1959) to publish the freedom-fighting newspaper Sorush in Istanbul.

Today, Azalis who continue to call themselves Bayani, that is, followers of the book of the Bayan written by the Bab, are a small minority community in Iran.  Because of their practice of dissimulation, they hide their beliefs.  By contrast, the followers of Baha’u’llah have their center in Haifa, have worldwide recognition and number several million.

7. The Dualistic Approach of the Leftist Movement

During the 1970s, leftist intellectuals in Iran revisited the Bab’s movement and grew attracted to it as a social uprising against feudalism — they also acknowledged the contributions of Azali thinkers during the Constitutional Revolution.[4]  However, as Iranian Marxists on one hand did not respect the necessary role of freedom of conscience, and on the other hand believed the fictitious rumors about Baha’i collaboration with the government during the premiership of Amir-Abbas Hoveyda (and the evidence they had in this regard was that the notorious Parviz Sabeti ran the SAVAK’s televised shows), they had a negative view of the Baha’is.  This negative attitude increased, particularly after the revolution.

The Soviet-oriented Tudeh party, which considered itself a main backer of the Islamic regime, started helping the fundamentalist clergy in their anti-Baha’i activities.  As written by Reza Fani-Yazdi, “Suddenly, in spring 1982, the Tudeh party sent a circular letter to all its regional offices throughout the country instructing that all Baha’is were to be expelled from its membership rolls.”[5]

The members of the Tudeh party were asked not only to expel the Baha’is, but also to divulge the identity of any members of the independent leftist groups who were anti-regime.  Though the Tudeh party had played an important role in creating the new Islamic regime, it was not long after the revolution that they fell prey to the oppressive regime they had helped build.

On February 11, 1981, an independent Marxist and anti-establishment group, Peykar Organization had arranged a demonstration in Tehran’s Enqelab Square to mark the anniversary of the anti-Shah revolution.  There I was identified by two medical students supporters of the Tudeh Party) with whom I had used to go hiking at the time of the Shah.  The Islamic security guards had turned Capri, a movie theatre into a centre for interrogating demonstrators.  They seized me, and were dragging me to the interrogation center when I managed to escape with the help of a few friends who started fighting with the vigilante.  (Two of my rescuers are still alive and live in North California.)  When I made it home, I found my wife Ezzat very worried; she had seen me captured, but had not seen my escape.  Alas, only a few months later it was I who had to witness my wife leaving home and never coming back.

8. Appeal for Justice not Collective Shame

With 300,000 followers in Iran, the Baha’i community is the largest minority group after the Sunni sect of Islam.  Nevertheless, Baha’is are deprived of all basic human and civil rights, including the freedom of belief, access to higher education, and employment in any government sector.

In a secret memorandum issued in 1991 and signed by the leader, Khamenei and President Rafsanjani, the Supreme Revolutionary Cultural Council instructed all its lower bodies regarding the principle policy of the government towards Baha’is: “prevention of their progress and advancement” at all levels of society.[6]  This was also the policy of Khomeini before and after the revolution.  While residing in Paris in the summer of 1978, Khomeini was interviewed by James Cockrof, a professor at Rutgers University. Khomeini was asked about his stance regarding the Baha’is and whether they would enjoy freedom of belief and action in an Islamic regime. Instead of a direct response, Khomeini stated, “Baha’ism is not a religion.  It is a political party and a misguided sect”. The interviewer again asked if Baha’is would be allowed to practice their religious duties. Khomeini responded, “No”.[7]

In Khomeini’s terse responses, one can find two justifications for the Shiah fundamentalist’s suppression of the Baha’is.  The first justification is that the Baha’i faith is not a religion, but a political party associated with the government of the Shah and colonialism, and which gives support to Israel.  Therefore, the Baha’is should be suppressed for the sake of the country’s security.  The second justification is that the Baha’is are condemned for apostasy.  According to Article 5 of the Criminal Code regarding the “law of apostasy” presented to the Islamic Parliament in February 2008, apostates (which includes the Baha’is) will be sentenced to death if they are male, and life imprisonment if they are female.

The first justification mentioned above is based on collective punishment. That is, if a member of a group is alleged to have committed a crime, then all members of that group, whether male, female, elderly, or child, are guilty through association, and will be subject to punishment.  The second justification is based on sheer disregard for human rights, freedom of belief and of the right to choose a religion or no religion.

This justification has its roots in the obscurantism of the middle ages.

In both the above justifications, the right and individual responsibility is completely absent, and instead emphasis is placed on collective belief and group ideologies.

In contradistinction to the above, if we were to accept the principle that all humans, regardless of gender, religion, ethnicity, social status and religious belief, are equal before the law and that they have natural rights to freedom of belief, freedom of thought, freedom of expression, and such natural liberties, then the above two justifications for oppressing Baha’is and other minorities will have no foundation whatsoever.  Therefore, it is necessary to recognize individual freedom in the country’s Constitution in order to open the door of justice to all Baha’is and other minorities.

This appeal for justice has two inseparable parts:

1. Complete alignment of the country’s Constitution with the Universal Declaration of Human Rights by the United Nations, which calls for the separation of religion and state

2. Activities of the anti-Baha’i group Hojjatiyeh should be considered illegal and forced to end. All those who have been involved in the persecution of Baha’is and other minorities should be brought to justice in a court of law, in the presence of a jury and defense attorneys.

As I mentioned in the beginning of this essay, the greatest shortcoming of the open letter to the Baha’i community of Iran titled “We are Ashamed” is that instead of demanding justice for the Baha’is (that is, insisting that freedom of belief must be enshrined in the Constitution and that anti-Baha’i groups be made illegal), it proposed a collective shame upon all Iranian intellectuals for allowing 150 years of oppression against the Baha’is.  Instead of calling on people to accept human rights, this open letter has established its foundation on collective shame and group repentance.

Without a doubt, when it comes to human and civil rights, the Baha’is of Iran are the most deprived.  As I have mentioned earlier, the test of Iranian broadmindedness must be measured by his sensitivity to the cruelty perpetrated against this group of our countrymen.

However, first, it is incorrect to accuse all intellectuals of “silence against crimes perpetrated against the Baha’is”.  Each person is responsible for his own actions and not for the oversights of others, whether in the past or at the present.  Second, feeling ashamed or guilty for wrongdoings committed in the past is a personal matter and should be sincerely communicated directly to the individuals or families adversely affected by the acts of oppression.  As I wrote in my July 2006 essay titled “Behazin and right of silence” published in “Shahrvand” magazine, I clearly explained that asking individuals to feel ashamed or to repent publicly for their beliefs is an old method of religious inquisition, dating back to the reigns of dictators such as Hitler, Stalin, Mao, and Khomeini.

The main objective of such practices is to undermine and destroy the individual’s self-worth.

A liberated and broadminded intellectual would instead defend the rights of individuals, and would not allow public pressure to curtail individual beliefs and actions.  They would insist on personal responsibility and choice.

Public shaming and public confession is a method used by Franciscan monks in their inquisition period and employed in fanatical environments for the purpose of extracting acknowledgment and breaking down personal will.  In a similar manner, party administrators in the Stalinist era or under Mao’s regime employed “self-critical sessions” which used such techniques, and Khomeini used them in his televised public “confessions”, or for compulsory group meetings in Evin prison.

I say no to the so-called “original sin” of a group.  I say no to metaphoric “baptism” by signing a letter that confesses to shame.  We must fight for the freedom of belief and demand that anti-Baha’i activities be banned in Iran.  Let everyone tell their own personal stories, and if one feels ashamed about keeping silent while crimes were committed, let him or her take personal responsibility and deal with it as he or she sees fit.

20 February 2009

Notes

1. In September 2000 I published my memoir of this period in a detailed essay “avalin-haye man” (My Firsts) in Shahrvand magazine.  This essay has also been included in my book “man khod iran hastam va si-o-panj maqaleh-ye digar” (I am Iran Alone and Thirty-Five other Essays Toronto, Afra-Pegah publishers 2006

2. Dr. Naficy is mistaken in this regard.  While the Bab consented to Baha’u’llah’s request for Mirza Yahya to be named a temporary head of the community, there is no evidence whatsoever that Mirza Yahya was named a successor. The title Subh Azal was not given by the Bab and was self-adopted by Mirza Yahya Nuri. [Translator]

3. For an example of this discussion, refer to Edward Granville Browne, A Year Amongst the Persians, Cambridge University Press, 1927, pp. 559-62.  In that book, Browne refers to the killing of seven Azalis in Akka by the followers of Baha’u’llah.

4. For instance, see Mohammad-Reza Feshahi, Vapasin Junbesh Qurun Vusta’i: Akhbari, Usuli, Shaykhi and the Babi. Javidan Publications, Tehran, 1977.

5. Reza Fani-Yazdi, “Baha’i-setizi Pish va Pas az Enqelab” [Anti-Baha’ism before and after the Revolution”, Iran-Emrooz, 6/11/2008.

6. This document was uncovered by Reynaldo Pohl, the United Nations’ special representative on human rights in Iran, and published by him in his report of 1993: http://bic.org/assets/Pohl%20Iran%20report%20E.CN4.1993.41.pdf.  The passage related to the instructions issued after a joint meeting of Ali Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, President of Iran, and the Supreme Revolutionary Cultural Council is on p. 55, paragraph 310. [Translator]

7. See The Denial of Higher Education to the Baha’is of Iran, by Geoffrey Cameron.

[The Persian version of this essay was first published on Thursday, March 12, 2009, at http://fa.shahrvand.com/2008-07-14-20-49-09/2008-07-14-20-49-46/2284-2009-03-12-17-58-08.  Translation by Iran Press Watch and Dr. Majid Naficy.]

I was born in London, England in 1979 right at the beginning of the Iranian Revolution. As such, I have never been to Iran and grew up in Canada, but it has always been my wish to visit. I moved to Vancouver when I was three years old and lived here until I finished high school. Then, I moved to Montreal where I obtained a bachelors degree from McGill University. After that, I obtained my masters in art history, theory and criticism from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. I have worked in the art auction business, as well as museums, and currently work part-time at the Vancouver Art Gallery in family programs. I plan to stay here in Vancouver to raise my two sons.

As I sit here watching all the news about the protests and situation in Iran, I feel compelled to tell the story of my family. My father, Hossein Amanat, the architect of the Freedom Monument in Tehran, has been a Vancouver resident for the past 30 years.

As a young graduate, he won a nationwide competition for its design, and since that time, the Freedom Monument has become a symbol of modern Iran. It is also the venue for the protests and demonstrations that are currently taking place.

Thirty years ago, my parents fled Iran when the Shah was overthrown by the very regime that is being opposed by the Iranian people today. Since he was not Muslim and had designed this monument for the Shah, my father was blacklisted by the Islamic regime. As a child here in Vancouver, I remember my family glued to the television watching the protests and Ayatollah Khomeini. Now, all these years later, I see my son witnessing something eerily familiar.

Over the past few days, I’ve seen countless images of the Freedom Monument on the news. I thought it may interest CBC readers to know that the architect of such an important symbol lives right here in Vancouver.

My family feels very proud of the people standing up for freedom and justice in Iran and of those who are at the forefront of this movement, risking their lives for these ideals. It is our hope and prayer that there will be no more tragic losses and the Iranian people will peacefully achieve their goals.

The Freedom Monument, also known as the Shahyad or Azadi Monument, was designed in 1966 when my father was a 24 year-old graduate. It was completed in 1971. The structure has had little maintenance done to it over the past 30 years, but seems to have stood the test of time. More importantly, the symbolism of this monument refers to all the eras of Iranian history, including the pre-Islamic glories of the Persian Empire, which all Iranians, regardless of creed or religion, are proud of.

My father is thrilled that the Azadi Monument has found its place in the hearts of the people as a symbol of their national identity. He always believed in a glorious future for Iran and is humbled that this monument has witnessed major events in the past and continues to do so. It is moving for all of us to see the crowds rally around it during these momentous times.

After leaving Iran because of the persecution of the Baha’is, he continued his practice working on international projects, first in London, England and then in Vancouver. These projects include buildings in Israel, China, Samoa, and the United States. In Vancouver, he has recently completed two thirty storey condominium towers, and
other projects as well. He is not retired.

He would love to return to visit Iran one day, when the conditions allow. The beauty and wealth of Iranian architecture have always been a source of inspiration for not only my father, but for many architects such as Arthur Erickson. To go back to this source is his dream.

[Source: http://www.cbc.ca/news/citizenbytes/2009/06/iran_monument_daughter_of_the.html]

That was Iranian Foad Naeemi’s punishment for teaching the Baha’i Faith, which is viewed as heresy by Iran’s religious authorities.

Mr Naeemi is the nephew of Sole Ighani, a Nelson-based follower of the religion, which was founded in 19th-century Persia.

Mr Ighani said it was difficult to deal with a family member being in prison for religious reasons.

“I honestly have been trying to shut out everything. It was very hard; I have been praying and praying, but you can’t do anything.”

The Baha’i Faith is a monotheistic faith emphasising the spiritual unity of all humankind.

“We are here to serve and to help humanity,” Mr Ighani said. “We don’t say we are better or worse, but we want equality and we want human rights.”

There are an estimated five to six million Baha’is worldwide, with 300,000 living in Iran.

Mr Ighani said there were about 35 people in the Baha’i community in the Nelson region, with a further 4000 throughout New Zealand.

He said he had many relatives who had been persecuted for their beliefs. “They have all lost their jobs and cannot go to school, especially higher education.

“For every Baha’i, it has happened; for the others, they are just in hiding.”

Mr Ighani said he wanted to bring the troubles of Iran’s Baha’i community to the attention of New Zealanders.

Spokesperson for the Nelson Baha’i community, Pamela Thomas, said she was asking the Government to publicly speak out against the persecution, including the arrests of seven prominent Iranian Baha’is, who have spent a year in jail without formal charges or access to a lawyer.

“Their situation definitely appears to be worsening,” Mrs Thomas said.

“Recently, their families were told that a new charge may be made, for `spreading of corruption on earth’, which carries the threat of death under the criminal law of the Islamic Republic of Iran.”

She said Nelson Bahai’s would be asking the two local MPs to ensure that the Government strongly called for the immediate release of the Iranians or for a fair and open trial that met international standards of justice.

“Baha’is worldwide have been asked to contact and update their government officials in the hope that again, worldwide protest will be effective.”

[Source: http://www.stuff.co.nz/nelson-mail/news/2520254/Plenty-of-prayers-for-Baha-i-relatives]

Such is the level of repression that police will have a (hopefully) impossible task in containing the pent-up anger of tens of millions of people. When U.S.-Iranian journalist Roxana Saberi was recently released from an eight year sentence for spying, it was viewed as a possible overture to an improved relationship with the U.S.

No one seriously believed it was the sign of a more humane penal system because the fact remains that countless others equally deserving of freedom continue to be held in Iran’s macabre prisons. I daresay they will soon overflow with Mousavi supporters, and they will join those who took part in the Revolution of 1979.

The following interview is with an ex-soldier who served at Evin Prison, which is where Delara Darabi and Roxana Saberi were held. It is a perfect illustration as to why the people of Iran are fighting against this dictatorial rule. Evin is Iran’s most notorious prison and it operates in such secrecy that it is impossible to know how many languish inside its walls, and how many it has executed.

The interviewee, who must remain anonymous for his own safety, fled Iran two months ago and lives in limbo while he waits for the UN to process his application for refugee status. He is a Christian and his conversion from Islam is punishable by death in Iran. His conversion, if discovered, would have quickly switched his role from prison guard to prisoner.

****

JM: How did you come to work in Evin Prison?

D: Well I was really against military service of itself but it is compulsory in Iran. And if I had tried to avoid it on some grounds such as physical unfitness I wouldn’t be given a passport. And without a passport I couldn’t leave Iran.

After military training, I was expecting to be sent to the police force and I was prepared for that. But I was posted to Evin prison for 20 months in 2007. I bought some medication for depression to take with me.

JM: What were your duties there?

D: Like all the other soldiers, I was responsible for preventing prisoners from escaping and taking them from their cells to their court appearance.

Soldiers also have duties during executions.

JM: What were the conditions like?

D: Evin prison is an awful place, but in comparison to other prisons in Iran it is not the worst. The worst is Rajai-Shahr Prison in Karaj. On my first day the commander told us to be really careful about touching prisoners – he said they might make us sick.

The most common illnesses are hepatitis, tetanus and meningitis. Each day many prisoners are infected with HIV virus because they use just one syringe and pass it to each other.

The prisons in Iran are so different from what I have seen on American TV shows. The prisoners at Evin don’t get enough fresh air – just half an hour a day. At 8pm the lights are turned off, and at 5am they go back on. But the grounds of Evin Prison do have nice, tall trees… And the prison’s yard is clean enough. But the cells are not.

Evin Prison is divided into several sections within different buildings.

JM: What do you know about the women’s section?

I did not work there but I find the women’s section really sad. It is restricted and it has huge walls inside the prison. Most of the women in Evin are prostitutes or they were caught doing something “wrong” by Islam.

I believe that many of the women who had been charged with taking part in the filming of a pornographic or erotics film had done so against their will. If they were convicted they were executed.

JM: What do you know about the other prisoners?

D: Evin is the best prison for a soldier to work, because it mostly has chic criminals. This is what the soldiers call the financial criminals. But actually most of the prisoners in Evin aren’t even criminals. There are a lot of men who cannot pay money back to their wife when they get a divorce as is the custom in Iran. So these men stay in prison for four to six months. Sometimes they pay the money in instalments and they are released. There are also the very rich people who are in debt. And there are the Bahai’s, the drug dealers, some convicted murderers, and those found guilty of ‘spying’.

JM: What about the political prisoners, the dissidents?

Political prisoners are in Section 12. Soldiers in Evin prison are not allowed to meet those prisoners. This is two floors underground and the older soldiers told me that if I even tried to look inside I would be punished. Section 12 has its own special guards. These guards have beards and they don’t wear a uniform. Once I saw a man being led towards Section 12. He was blindfolded.

I am sure they did not keep Roxana Saberi in Section 12 because she has a foreign passport.

JM: Did you see any executions?

D: I did something extreme which made it possible for me to leave Evin prison after a short time – so I did not witness an execution.

But I have so many friends from training who did. Five days after I left, eight people were executed in one morning. Executions take place around dawn, just as many soldiers arrive to start their day’s work. My friend told me that one morning when he arrived, there were many people at the entrance. They were shouting and crying. He went inside the grounds and he saw eight bodies hanging in the air.

Any soldier who helps with the execution is rewarded with two days holiday. There is so much competition to do this that the junior soldiers never get to do it. If, for example, eight people executed, six or seven soldiers are required for duties. The chair has to be set up, and the rope has to be fastened around the neck, and someone must pull the chair. And someone has to put the dead body in the bag.

You cannot imagine how I felt as I watched the soldiers being eager to do these things.

JM: How did working in Evin Prison affect you psychologically?

D: I found it to be a mentally sick place and I could not tolerate being there. And after I left, I had very bad dreams every night for two months. Of course I was dreaming that I was still there. Now I am okay.

[Source: http://www.thecommentfactory.com/interview-with-iranian-dissident-about-working-in-notorious-evin-prison-2240]

I am grateful and thankful!

In the name of love and compassion, and in the name of the Creator who makes us friends — and we are His friends.  I speak as a mother who is far from her imprisoned child

I thank all those broadminded, virtuous and fair individuals who by signing this open letter have been a balm to my wounds.

Because of you, I have grown stronger in my belief that the Creator of the two worlds has spread the fragrance of His love throughout all lands, far and near; and I have accepted that no matter how feeble a light it may be, yet it is a light.  I have become convinced that the heart of some dear souls pulsates for the defense of those wronged by oppression.

May the fervent prayers of this mother who suffers at the hands of her countrymen and neighbors surround you under all conditions! I raise my earnest voice to the highest pinnacle of paradise, “O kind Lord!  Place love, equity, compassion and faith in the hearts of all those who dwell on earth!”

I am grateful, thankful and gratified by your expression of sympathy.

[Source: http://www.bab.blogfa.com/post-199.aspx.  Translation by Iran Press Watch.]

What has befallen me?!

Today marks one whole year that you have not been with me – now I want to express my feelings of pain and anguish during this year; a year of untold stories; a year of solitude; a year of being far from a mother!

It was this very same day last year, when I was woken up early in the morning by a phone call – a call which gave me the dreaded news that government intelligence agents had raided your home.  Before I had a chance to collect myself and realize what had happened and what I must do, I received an S.M.S. from my little sister, Taraneh, saying: “they are taking away Mom; if you want to see her, come fast”! Oh my, what has befallen me?! Even after a whole year, still – remembering that moment brings pain and agony to my heart, and I can’t help but shed uncontrollable tears.

In a state of shock and disbelief, I rushed to your house, worried about what if I got there late and they had taken you already… then, when would I ever see you again!?

Finally I got there, and frantically climbed the long flight of stairs, skipping every other step, and rushed into your home. Thank God! You were still there… I was with you for a short while, and then… you were leaving. I hugged you with all my might, squeezed you, kissed you, and told you how proud I was of you. And you left… for an unknown period of time! I knew that you would not return home anytime soon, but I never thought that a year would pass and you would still be there!

You left me and I was alone… with a mountain-load of pain and sorrow. I was so dependent on you… was so in need of your advice, even on very small matters! Who knows what has befallen me during this period!? Even now, remembering the extent of my sorrow and grief makes me tremble.

I was so used to speaking with you every single day, even if it was just for one minute. For a whole 80 days after your arrest, I did not have any communication with you… and when after 80 days you called me and I did not recognize your voice, how ashamed I was of myself! I remember your words very vividly – saying “my dear, didn’t you recognize my voice?”… And I, full of happiness, melancholy, excitement, and tons of other opposing sentiments all at the same time, could not utter a word.

Oh my God, what has befallen me during this past year!? I remember in preparation for Mothers Day, when all my friends were talking about what presents they were going to buy for their moms, I forced myself not to burst into tears, in order to be strong… the same way you wanted me to be… the same way you are.

When on your birthday I could not give you a present; I kept myself happy only with memories of you…

When, in your absence, and because of your absence, I experienced the worst day of my life, the day I felt my heart was crumpled – I went out walking alone, burst into tears, and sent you this text message: “Oh Mom, I am so lonely and hapless without you!”, knowing full well that this text message would never reach you.

Oh my, what has befallen me?! Whenever I encountered the worst of my difficulties during this past year, and you were not there to rush to my aid… when my eyes came across your things, knowing that at one time you had used these things; I would heave a sigh from the very depths of my being.

What befell me the day I saw that you had become so tiny, so slender and wiry, the time when I held your hand in my hands and saw that your hand was trembling out of sheer frailty?! How much I struggled to control myself not to burst into tears in your presence!

What befell me that day, at the end of my visit with you in your prison, behind the isolated visiting room, when they were lowering the curtain, you bent down to be able to see us until the very last moment of our visit, to wave at us and to smile at us…? Oh God, how much the thought that it might very well be the very last time I would be able to see you tortured me.

When, on my birthday, you gave me a pair of stockings which you had bought from the prison store, as a present – the best thing that one could buy from there – how delighted, yet how grieved I became!  How hard I embraced it,  kissed it, and decided never to wear it, so it wouldn’t wear out!  That day reminded me of my previous year’s birthday, when you, in spite of a severe back ache, arranged for my birthday party… and the thought of this made my heart ache.

How delighted I was looking at the carrot plant – a plant you had grown in your prison-cell, which you gave as a present to my little sister, Taraneh, on her birthday! This plant stood for me as a symbol of you. When I was lonely, I would go and cuddle it, talk to it, caress it, and kiss it – I would feel it was you standing before me. How sorrowful and grief-stricken I became when it withered! I would rush to tie its tiny branches together with a green ribbon – perchance it would be revived again – as if I was taking care of you.

What a day it was for me on the festival of Ridvan [the Persian New Year], when you gave me a gift – I felt I had been given the whole world, and I showed off my gift to all my friends with utter pride.

What a night it was for me… the night I could not go to sleep – I started reading all the e-mails you had previously sent me, as tears poured down my cheeks, and how much I wished to receive just one more e-mail from you again.

All of these memories as well as hundreds of days have come to pass, each carrying myriads of large and small, good and bad recollections of my experience – yet God knows that during this whole year I never wished, if it was not His Will, for you to return home to us… I always whispered this poem to myself:

“I would not relinquish my pain for You in vain…

-will not give up my love for the Beloved till slain.

My keepsake from my Beloved is my pain…

-would not trade for a myriad cures this pain.” (Rumi)

This is what befell me over the past year; God only knows what befell you, dear Mom!!!

Dr. Farhad Asdaghi

24 years ago…

24 years has since passed; yet it seems like it was yesterday when — together with my one-year-old son and my mother-in-law — we ventured into the Evin prison, hoping to visit with my husband.  We had only been able to see him twice since his arrest, with one visit being two weeks apart from the other.

Two weeks earlier, too, we had been given a visitation schedule, which never transpired.  Going through a process of what seemed like a multi-tier obstacle course, we had reached the visiting room; only to hear from the authorities that my husband was not there and that a meeting was not possible.  Our insistence and pleadings were of no avail; and unfortunately — although it was difficult to accept what they were saying and even harder to endure not being able to see my husband — we had no choice but to submit to their word.  They asked me to wait for their call and promised to set up another visit soon.

Another two-weeks elapsed, during which time I never left our home fearing the authorities may call and I would not be there to receive the call.  Every time the phone rang, I ran to it excitedly hoping it would be the prison authorities fulfilling their promise… But, alas, the call never came…

That day, we had set out again for Evin with eager anticipation, longing to sooth our aching hearts with a visit after an entire month of being in the dark about my husband’s condition.  This time, they told us from the very beginning that we could not have a visit that day… But I kept insisting and explained the process we had already endured.  I also told them that we were not leaving the prison without seeing my husband, and that we would stay there all night if necessary.

Seeing that I was in great turmoil, the man in charge of visitation gave me a telephone number, asked us to leave the premises, and said that if I were to call him after an hour he might be able to do something…

Once again, I submitted and trusted in the man’s words…  We spent an hour outside and then called the number from a public telephone booth.  He first put me through a few questions to ascertain my identity and, once he was confident of who I was, he informed me that they had executed my beloved, young, husband the night before!  I realised that he could have communicated this devastating news in prison; but that he had been concerned about our reaction in front of the others, and had sent us away…

I don’t know how to describe my feelings of that moment… Neither the tongue is able to recount my devastation; nor can the pen describe my anguish… My legs were numb and unable to bear the weight of my body; and, while I was leaning against the wall inside the telephone booth, I was struggling with how I could communicate the news to my mother-in-law… A mother who had come to visit her beloved son, only to receive news of his execution…

When we went to Behesht-e-Zahra[1] Cemetery to enquire about the whereabouts of my husband’s gravesite, they gave us the address for a place called “Khatoon Abad”, which was given the nickname of “Kufr Abad”[2], and it was a place where those who were executed were usually buried.  This place later also became known as the “Khavaran Cemetery” because it was situated on the Khavaran[3] roadway.  They gave us a plot number and told us that my beloved husband was buried there; but, alas, upon arriving there, we realised that the gravesite belonged to another family’s loved-one who had been executed a while back.

I never discovered where my husband was buried, and exactly which part it was — within the immensity of the plain of Khavaran — that was embracing his blessed corps… They did not even give us his lifeless body, so that we might wash it according to the laws of the Faith which he had espoused; recite Baha’i prayers upon it; and bury it with due respect…

We were never told about his plight, and never knew how he was tried and executed…  Oh how I wish they could have at least returned his wedding band and his watch to me; so that I could have saved them as mementoes for his son, who was a mere infant of one year and four months at the time…

How I wish I could have seen his last will and testament, so that — even if I were deprived of beholding him during his last hours on earth, I could have at least been privy to his last wishes…  Oh, how I wish I could have been there in court for his trial, which had been conducted behind closed doors and without any access by him to a lawyer or to the least of any privileges that constitute the most basics of human rights.

I wish I could have been present there to see how the judge could have sat in such judgment and on what testimony or evidence he had rendered a death-sentence on a young physician who entertained no other desire in his heart but to be of service to the needy and to his countrymen, and who had in fact lived up to his desire in his short earthly life…

Oh, how I wish I could know if the judge, when signing the death sentence, gave any thought — even for a fleeting, ephemeral, moment – to the innocence of the young man sitting before him…  Did he even give ear to his words for only a few brief minutes?  Or did he look into his pure, innocent, eyes for a passing instant?

Years of bitter separation passed, one after the other!  Ah, but how difficult did they pass! Nevertheless, they passed, and throughout all these years, every time I went to the Khavaran Cemetery – which is also home to the remains of many of our compatriots and of about 50 or 60 other Baha’i martyrs – I would raise my suppliant hands in prayer at his traceless, nameless, grave and would wish in my heart that I would one day discover the exact place where his body had been put to rest.  I longed to find his resting place, so that his offspring, who had now grown into a fine young man, would know where in this vast space his father, who had committed no crime but service to mankind and had rendered up his life in this path, was buried.

But now I remain with no recourse but to bemoan and lament the futileness of my desire, for after all the years of such longing, I now hear that they have bulldozed the cemetery and whipped the land clear of even the trees that had been planted there; so that even the most minute traces of him and the others there might be removed…[4]

I now bewail in my heart and shed tears of anguish and cling to the words of Simin Daneshvar[5], who in her book “Suvushun”[6] says:

“Cry not my sister!  A tree will be planted in the courtyard of your home and — in your city — other trees will rise up; and then many more in your nation!  And the breeze will waft across the land and deliver the tidings of one tree to the other; and the trees will ask the breeze: Did you see the “DAWN” along your way…?”

Notes:

[1] Largest cemetery in Tehran

[2] Literally meaning “the land of blasphemy”; the cemetery became known by this name because it was first a cemetery where non Muslims such as Hindus, Jews and Christians were buried.  However, later it became a dumping ground for religious and political martyrs.

[3] In 1988, the cemetery was used as a mass grave for thousands of corpses belonging to political prisoners who had been executed.

[4] On 25 January 2009, it was reported that the Khavaran Cemetery had been destroyed by the order of the Islamic Republic

[5] Simian Daneshvar was perhaps one of the very first women novelists in Iran and is referred to by many as “the mother” of Iranian novelists

[6] The word “Suvushun” [Shirazi dialect] comes form “Sug-e-siyavushan”, which means lamentations or mourning for Siyavush (a character in Ferdowsi’s epic Shahnamih).  The book is a novel (one of the most successful Iranian novels to date) about tribal life in and around the author’s hometown of Shiraz.

Persian Translation: 24 Years Ago (Persian Version PDF)

Recently (February 2009) Ayatollah Qorban-Ali Dorri-Najafabadi, Prosecutor General of the Islamic Republic of Iran, declared that all Baha’i administrative activities were illegal. He added that Baha’is as citizens of the Islamic Republic of Iran had benefitted from all opportunities provided to citizens of the country and had even been treated more favorably than others by the Islamic government. This announcement brought back memories of the many favors bestowed upon my family over the past thirty years — memories that I had hitherto been consciously or subconsciously trying to forget!

This “favorable treatment” started soon after the revolution and the establishment of the Islamic regime in Iran. My mother, a retired teacher, had her pension cut off. She used to tell that us that a teacher’s pension is like a narrow stream of water; it is not much, but it constantly flows. This was her reward after spending thirty years of her life teaching to the best of her ability, spending evenings at home planning lessons, checking assignments and marking tests.

Shortly after, Baha’is were expelled from all government offices, organizations, and universities, etc. My brother and his wife, along with many others, received official letters from the newly established Revolutionary Government informing them of their dismissal due to their association with the “misguided Baha’i sect”. We have in our possession the original letters and their official translations into English. These were the “favors” the government bestowed after many years of service.

My older sister completed her Master’s degree in science, just before Baha’is were expelled from the universities. She had done a lot of research in the medical field. In an underdeveloped country, where only a small percentage of high school graduates are even accepted into post-secondary studies, she could have offered so much to the progress and development of our country, but she was prohibited from entering the work force. A few months later, she received a letter from the governing authorities, addressing her as a “Master of science graduate”, then adding that her graduate degree was invalid, and asking her to return the certificate to the address indicated. The salutation alone confirmed her right to a title they were now determined to revoke.

Two years later, the Islamic Militia, armed with machine guns, showed up at the door of our home, and they did so in the middle of the night just to ensure that the experience was as terrorizing and horrifying as possible. Sorry, I should say, to shower my family with even more “favors”! They ordered each family member into a separate room, interrogated all and then took my younger sister with them, telling my family that she would be taken for questioning and sent back to her home the next day.

For days and days we had no news of her whereabouts. She spent almost two years in jail before being released on bail. She was also an intelligent and highly motivated university graduate, someone who could have contributed a great deal to the development of the country. Instead, she spent most of her days sitting in a cell staring at blank walls. My sister and the other detainees were interrogated regularly; forced to respond to the same questions over and over. They listened to whatever was preached at them and silently endured the insults to their faith. The prisoners were also taught “crafts” while in jail. They had to save the pits from dates they were given as a part of their food rations, rub them against the cement walls of their cells, shape them into rectangular prisms, soak them in water, and, with the use of a needle and thread, join a bunch of them together. I hope that someday there will be an exhibition of these artworks, so that the world can see how a country used the talents of their university graduates to create such valuable, useful arts and crafts!

The “bounties” continued being showered upon my family. Next, the Islamic Militia decided to confiscate our home. For a while, two large militants appeared regularly at our door, intimidating and threatening my father to force him to voluntarily evacuate himself and his family from his own home. They were also summoning my father, a frail 70-year-old man, to their office. While towering over him and positioning the sharp edge of a metal ruler over his head, they would insult and threaten him with violent gestures of the ruler. All my father could do was stand there, wondering whether or not this time the ruler would land on his head.

When the threats did not work, the Islamic Authorities drafted an eviction notice, ordering my family to either evacuate within 24 hours or be arrested. To make the entire process even more pleasant, the militants timed their delivery of this eviction notice in such a way that my family was left with a mere 3 hours before the deadline expired. Our blessed neighbors came over and argued with the authorities until they finally agreed to give my family a few extra hours to move their belongings out of the house. The neighbors kept going back and forth to our house, moving as much its contents as they could carry to their own homes, for temporary safekeeping.

These are the same neighbors that the Islamic government has been desperately trying to turn against their Baha’i countrymen, instilling fear by gathering signatures, inciting and provoking.  Although my family no longer lives in the same neighborhood, after the “bounty” of homelessness was so graciously bestowed upon them, a quarter of a century  later, the bonds of friendship with our previous neighbors are as strong as ever. The negative attention my family has received over the years from the Islamic Authorities has not only failed to scare off our friends and neighbors; it has instead inspired them to investigate the beliefs of this much persecuted segment of the population.

The “favors” showered upon us were not limited to our generation, nor to our parents’. Our children and grandchildren have also been recipients of this continued stream of “bounties”. They are growing up and living in a society intent on spreading lies, insults and hatred through government-controlled radio, television, newspapers and various other publications. My nieces and nephews are continuously insulted in their classrooms and are unable to speak out in their own defense, as any reply would be construed as an illegal teaching activity. Lies ring in the ears of their young classmates, instilling them with such fear that they scream in sheer terror at the very sight of their Baha’i peers. The fearful environment established by some teachers will undoubtedly have a lasting negative effect on the psyche of all their students. Recently, a close relative of mine was detained. She spent weeks and weeks in solitary confinement, only to be released upon paying a heavy bail, not knowing when and whether she will be called back.

This is just a summary of the “favorable treatment” one Baha’i family has received, and only a few examples of the many favors that continue being showered upon them. There are, however, countless Baha’i families that have suffered so immensely that the “bounties” my family has partaken of seem quite insignificant in comparison.

Signed

An Iranian Baha’i