Witness Statement of Farzin Parsa

p.par

3 years ago

Name: Farzin Parsa

Place of Birth: Tehran, Iran

Date of Birth: November 3, 1961

Occupation: Businessman

Interviewing Organization: Iran Human Rights Documentation Center (IHRDC)

Date of Interview: December 15. 2021

Interviewer: IHRDC Staff

This statement was prepared pursuant to an interview with Mr. Parsa. It was approved by Mr. Parsa on February 2, 2022. There are 128 paragraphs in the statement.

The views and opinions of the witness expressed herein do not necessarily reflect those of the Iran Human Rights Documentation Center.

Statement

Introduction

My name is Farzin Parsa. I was born on November 3, 1961, in Tehran.

I was seven years old on the first day of school. According to what was customary at that time I had got a number 4 haircut, and I was wearing shorts. In the school yard a boy approached me and said, “I’ve heard you’re a Bahá’í.” I said yes. He kicked me in the leg with his shoes and ran away. This was the first time in my life that I realized I was different and that I was treated differently.

In high school, there were issues every year. In tenth grade our religious instruction teacher gave anti-Bahá’í lectures. Even teachers of unrelated topics, such as our Persian grammar teacher, promoted anti-Bahá’í ideas. In a manner reminiscent of the Islamic Republic, they would not give me any chance to defend [my beliefs]. They promoted their ideas unopposed, not permitting me to speak. I would ask to speak, and I would request for a chance to respond. Unfortunately, they would not. From 1975 to 1977 there were a lot of anti- Bahá’í propaganda in high school. This was in Hashtroudi high school in Kakh Square. After the Revolution the propaganda became more frequent.

When I wanted to register for 12^th grade, I wrote “Bahá’í” in the space that asked about my religion in the registration form. They would not register me. This was in 1979. They would tear up my registration form. The person in charge of registration said, “The time for being a Bahá’í has ended. Your time is up.” But since they did not have a coherent plan and did not know what they were supposed to do, they eventually registered me.

Cultural Revolution

When we were preparing ourselves for final exams and the university entrance examination, they announced that the entrance exam was not being held that year, and that universities were closed. This was a severe blow to me because of my love for studying and going to university. Then, the Iran-Iraq war started. The first group that they called up for military service where the graduates of 1980 with a grade point average of 17.66/20 or higher. This was the first group that they said should report for military service. First, I thought that there was a war, and I should serve my country. Second, I wanted to go to university. [If I did not go] I would be considered absent without leave, and I would not be able to go to university. Therefore, I reported for duty and was sent to military service.

I was based in Tehran during my military service because I was in the air force. I [also] served in Chabahar for two months. I was not sent to the war front.

They used to select those who were hezbollahi and give them easier tasks [during the military service]. But I cannot say that I faced a problem for being a Bahá’í [during my military service].

I served in the military from November 1980 to November 1982. Two years of military service was done. During these two years the university situation had become clear. Bahá’ís could no longer go to university. Even those who were in the final years of medical school and had only to write their thesis were expelled. University professors were expelled. Students were expelled. Individuals like me who wanted to go to university were banned. It was over.

I had no chance to [register for the university entrance examination] because I went to prison a few months after my military service was finished.

Arrest and Imprisonment

After the Revolution, the Iranian government started its widespread, severe yet secretive campaign against the Bahá’ís. They did not publicly announce that being a Bahá’í is a crime. They organized their efforts based on the premise that if they weaken and hollow this community intellectually, culturally, and economically, the community will die out on its own. They targeted the Bahá’í community’s educators, both those who taught at universities and those who taught in the Bahá’í community, such as Dr. Davoudi, who was a philosophy professor. [In other words] they targeted prominent Bahá’í. I could also name Mr. Mohammad Movahhed, who was abducted early after the Revolution. Or the members of the first and second National Assemblies and local assemblies.

Second, in the economic sphere, they identified rich Bahá’ís and confiscated [their] properties. They also confiscated the properties owned by the Bahá’í community. There were a lot of such properties. One could say that not all Bahá’ís were targeted directly. But if through bad luck someone was arrested, he or she would go to prison. I was such a person.

I was only 21 years old. I had just finished my military service. My friend and I went to Khatoun Abad cemetery, which has become well-known in recent years. After they confiscated Bahá’ís’ own cemetery, known as Golestan-e Javid, they gave the northern section of the cemetery to Bahá’ís. The southern portion of the cemetery belonged to the executed persons who were called “infidels.” [That place] is known as Khavaran. The Bahá’ís who were executed are ale buried in the southern portion of that cemetery.

On April 29, 1983, my friend and I went to see the graves of the executed Bahá’ís. A group of revolutionary guards came over there and arrested us. Due to our young age, and the fact that we were at that section of the cemetery, the guards thought that we were political, and that we were leftists. I had a Bahá’í prayer in my pocket that started with the phrase “Oh the Most High Companion.[1]” I would say, “We’re Bahá’ís. We’re not leftists. We’re not communists. We’re not who you think we are.” The guard who arrested me took this prayer out of my pocket and said, “Do you think I’m a child? I know Arabic. This ‘Oh the Most High Companion’ is saying ‘Tell your superior comrade.’” The term “comrade” was a sign for them that showed your affiliation.

They blindfolded us right away. They did not handcuff us. There were maybe three of four guards. They were wearing official revolutionary guard uniforms. I think they had a Jeep. They made us ride in the back.

They took us to headquarters of the revolutionary guards at Khorasan Square. We were there for about two hours. Then they took us to the central headquarters of the guards, which was behind the parliament building. The person who started questioning us became certain that we were Bahá’ís after the first question. Once he realized that we are Bahá’ís he told us to remove our blindfolds. He even brought a release form for us to sign, provided that we would report to them whenever they asked us to. He said they would release us that night. He put the form in front of us. When we were about to sign the form another guard came through the door. “Who are they,” he asked. “Nothing, they are two Bahá’í youths. I want to let them go.” The other one said,“Why do you want to release them? Keep them in. The Bahá’ís’ interrogator will release them tomorrow if necessary.”

This is a big taboo. Nobody dares [to support Bahá’ís]. Under the Iranian government, if you utter a sentence in support of the Bahá’ís you become a suspect yourself. Even the first interrogator, who wanted to release us, had to back down. He sent us to a solitary cell. He sent me to one cell and my friend to another. On the next day they started to interrogate us for being Bahá’ís. The questions [were] more of a religious nature.

Here I feel that I need to take you back to 38 years ago. That is because today most people know the reality about the Iranian government, and how it suppresses whatever opposes it. It does not shy away from torture, imprisonment, or killing. Most people know this now. But if we go back to 38 years ago maybe it was the other way around. Most people had hopes for and believed in the Iranian government. Many people liked the Iranian government. Maybe nobody knew what was the prison conditions and what they were doing to the youth.

Even in the Bahá’í community, when I was released, prominent Bahá’ís who are in the middle of things did not know what was going on in there. At the present, even those who support the Iranian government know and are forced to criticize the Iranian government’s crackdown and ask why there was a massacre in November 2019 and people were suppressed. But at that time there was total unawareness. No domestic or foreign organization had oversight, influence, or information. Nothing.

With my head filled with lofty imaginations, I was a youth who thought would put up an eloquent defense of my beliefs. The atmosphere in the central headquarters of the revolutionary guards was calm. I was not pressured. The questions were strictly religious. In response to each question I would write at lease one page.

After three days they told us to get ready. They wanted to take us away. They said, “Wear your blindfolds and come.” There were two Fedaian-e Khalq (majority faction) members, my friend, and I. “Where are you taking us?” I asked. They said they were taking us to court. I thought our interrogation was over in three days, and that I had written a full defense and defended my beliefs. I thought they were taking us to court. In my mind, in the atmosphere of total unawareness, I was writing scenarios in my mind, thinking the judge will ask this question and I will answer this way.

They took us to an area, which I did not know was Evin prison. Then we entered a building and long hallway, which was crowded with young people. Most of these young people were in plastic slippers. At that time I didn’t know what was going on. Later I realized that these are prisoners who are taken from their wards and brought to the hallway for interrogation. My friend and I, and the two others, were in regular clothes and shoes.

The person who brought us in sat us down on the floor, next to a door. He told us to wait until they call us. [We were] wearing blindfolds. Later I learned that this was Evin prison’s eighth branch, which interrogating Bahá’ís was its specialty. But I thought we had gone to court. We were waiting to go to court. We had sat there for half an hour to three quarters when someone came out of the door and kicked me in my side. This was the first strike that [made me] realize this was an unusual place. [He asked] “What’s your name?” “Farzin Parsa,” I responded. Later I learned that this person was Tolouee, the head interrogator of branch eight, which dealt with Bahá’ís.

He said, “Get up and get in.” I got up. He went in walking backwards. I later realized that this was something they had practiced and was not their first time. As soon as I reached the door frame, he punched me in the stomach. It was painful. My first reflex was that I clasped my hands and bent forward. As soon as I bent forward, he banged the door into my head.

I was wearing a ring with the Most Holy Name.[2] He pulled the ring from my hand and said, “Yes, it’s established. This is it. He’s a Bahá’í.” I think there were four people in the room. Tolouee himself and three other interrogators. One was named Mohammad Reza, who was a very shameless, vulgar and violent person. There was another one named Fekri. The fourth interrogator, whose name I do not recall, played the role of the good cop. The four of them started to hit me out of the blue. Each one would hit me in one place, like my head or my gut. I fell down. They said get up. I got up. They also took my friend and hit him.

Then they told us to get out of the room. In their minds we are ritually unclean. He gave my friend a ruler so that he would not have to touch him. My friend [was] in the front. They told me to place my hand on his shoulder. I put my hand on his shoulder. He took us to the upper floor. I later learned that he was getting a judge to order us to be flogged. They had not asked us one question. They had only asked my name. We stood behind a door. We did not see a judge or anyone else. He took us downstairs.

The hallway was long, and it had many branches. Each branch was specialized for one group.

At the end of the hallway there was a room that was for flogging. I had no idea about this.

They first took me into that room. They told me to take off my shoes. I took off my shoes. “Take off your socks,” they said. I took off my socks. “Lie on the bed,” they said. I thought I was supposed to sleep on the bed. I lay on the bed on my back! They all burst out laughing. “No! Lie on the bed the other way!” At that point I realized what was going on.

I lay on the bed on my stomach. They tied my hands and feet. I think they stuffed my own socks into my mouth. I could not see as I was blindfolded.

Two people flogged the soles of feet. Another one sometimes flogged on the head, sometimes on the waist, and sometimes on the neck. Tolouee and Mohammad Reza flogged the soles of feet. Fekri was the third person. I knew them only by their voices. I later realized which voice belongs to whom. They spoke and swore as they flogged

I promised myself that I would resist and would not shout in agony. I kept silent and did not react through seven lashes. Mohammad Reza said, “This has no use. Give me the yellow one.” Later, when I learned more, I realized that they have different devices for hitting. They are mostly water and gas hoses. They also have cable. They cannot hit with a cable for a very long time. It is very painful, and the foot splits open soon. They mostly use hoses. The hoses vary in weight and diameter.

After the first strike I shouted in agony through my throat. I was not pretending or anything. They hit me a lot. Later, my friend, who was outside the room, said that he had counted the lashes. He said he had counted up to 120, but that they had brought him in, and he could not count any more.

They would not even ask questions like who was in the assembly or where I lived or which Bahá’ís I knew. They were not asking anything. They were only flogging me.

Afterwards they untied me and forced me to mark time. Marking time is very painful but it is the best thing because it prevents the feet from swelling and blistering. My feet did blister, but if I did not mark time, it would have been much worse. After [they were done with me] they tied up my friend and flogged him.

After they flogged me they took me in for interrogation. I do not remember what the questions were at all. They sat me down facing the wall. Mohammad Reza was in charge of the questioning. Torture is a better word than questioning actually. He would slap me from behind for any excuse, such as simply not liking my responses to his questions. He would hit me in the back of head with his military boots. He insulted me. My interrogation was interrupted because I suffered a severe convulsion. They took me out of the room. I was shaking violently. I was in a horrible shape. I don’t exactly recall what happened. Maybe after a couple of hours, when I was doing a little better and was sitting on the floor, Tolouee came over and said, “Misguided sect, get over here.” I did not move. Again, he said, “Misguided sect! I am talking to you. Get in.” I did not know who he was talking to. On the third time he said, “Misguided sect Farzin, get in.” This time, when I heard my name, I put my hands on the wall and leaning on the wall – the soles of both my feet were injured and this was not easy for me – I tried to get up with a lot of difficulty. I was half-standing that he slapped me in the ear so hard that I turned around and fell to the ground.

This hallway is a very frightening place. If they bring the strongest person in the world in there, and they don’t even lay a hand on him or her, but just blindfold that person and tell him or her to sit there, he or she will break down after seeing what happens in that hallway. It is not easy to bear it. You can hear moans and cries from every corner.

At 5 pm on the day in which my friend and I were flogged, all those who had come to the hallway for interrogation had returned to their wards. The hallway was empty. Nobody was there. It was just me, my friend and the two Fedaian-e Khalq (majority wing) guys who had come with us from the central headquarters of the revolutionary guards. I think the interrogator of branch three started to interrogate them. The interrogator’s voice was frightening and violent. He started questioning one of them.

In response, he would say, “I don’t know. I don’t know them.” The interrogator took him to the flogging room. The other guy was standing above him. They started to flog the first guy. You could hear the sound of lashes, shrieks, and shouts. They would flog and flog. Then they would give him a rest so that the feet’s numbness wears out. Then they would flog again. He moaned and shrieked but did not say anything. The second guy had enough. He suddenly cried out, “Let him go! Untie him! Ok I will talk! I will tell everything!” The interrogator who had a frightening voice said, “No! He has to speak himself. What he says isn’t important to me at all. I’ll get the answers. It’s not important. He has to say it himself.” What I mean is that their system is based on breaking down the prisoner. The prisoner should lose his or her pride. The responses to questions are not important. Therefore, it is a very frightening environment. If I were to describe what I saw in that hallway it will become an epic. I doubt that the strongest person in the world could resist it if placed there. That’s how difficult the situation is.

If I’m not mistaken, at the exact date of my arrest on April 29, the radio, which was on at the central headquarters of revolutionary guards, announced that the Tudeh Party was an illegal organization, and that all of its members had to report to the authorities. Otherwise, they would be arrested. They publicly announced that the Tudeh Party was illegal. They arrested their members and told them to report to the authorities. I do not know whether this a coincidence or planned, but the same was done with respect to the Bahá’ís. In other words, 1983 was a turning point.

The Bahá’ís were being arrested in droves. They raided their homes. Their properties were confiscated. This became more prevalent in 1983. On the day after the one in which we were flogged other Bahá’ís started to arrive in prison. A large number would come every day. For several days we lived in that hallway. They would bring us at 6 am. We would sit next to the door on the hallway, being blindfolded all the while. Interrogation would last maybe until 5 or 6 pm. At 5 or 6 they would send us upstairs to sleep in another hallway. When I say 5 or 6, sometimes it was later than that. It was not necessarily at 5 or 6.

In the first days that a prisoner arrives they do not send the prisoner to the ward, so that the prisoner’s case file could be prepared. Depending on how important you are to them, these preliminary interrogations have to take place. You live in that hallway. You are interrogated, and you go upstairs to rest at night.

There were a lot of young people over there. Each one belonged to a group, had a belief, and had some issues. I recall that they had placed a green carpet on the floor. The hallway was wide, but the carpet was narrow. We slept like sardines. First, everyone slept on their sides. You couldn’t sleep on your back. When I slept the next person had his feet in my face and his face on the other side. I recall that one night my arm was hurting as I slept. I got up to change my position and sleep on my other arm. Due to the pressure of the people around me my space was immediately filled. I had to wake up the people on my left and right so that I could get back into my space.

The guards in the upstairs hallway are employees who have nothing to do with your case file. They are not your interrogators. But they are either trained to harass you or do it arbitrarily. For instance, [a guard] woke up a Tudeh Party member in the middle of the night and started hitting him. The sound of the slaps spread in the hallway. [He’d say] “Say death to the USSR!”

One night, when the number of Bahá’ís had increased, we were sleeping in the same manner. One [of the guards] came and said, “Bahá’ís are not supposed to sleep! Get up and go stand next to the wall! Mark time!” We all started to march in place. One, two! We marched in place, blindfolded and facing the wall, for twenty minutes. Another [guard] came. He said, “Why are you marking time?” [We said,] “A guard told us to mark time.” [He said,] “Nobody’s here. Go back and sleep.” The situation will not become normal. You spend horrible days over there.

I think I spent 12 days there. During those days a number of individuals who are very special to me came over there. And they were tortured severely. The first Bahá’í who came in was Mr. Rahim Rahimian. If I’m not mistaken it was on May 3 or 4. Mr. Rahimian had a large body. He was heavy. They brought him in. [An interrogator] asked him a simple question. Mr. Rahimian gave a simple answer. I thought to myself that the poor guy does not know where he is, and he does not know that this kind of answer is not acceptable there. They took Mr. Rahimian to the flogging room several times. They hit him severely.

I recall that it was about noon when they took him to that room for the second or third time. [When they brought him out] he was like me in my first day. He became convalescent. I had been beaten myself, and the sole of my feet had a lot of blisters. But I tried to help him by making him sit in a better position. But it was impossible. He was heavy, and my feet’s condition did not allow me to help him.

As he was in convulsion, his voice changed. It because hoarse. His voice never became normal. I don’t know why. His throat was damaged. Mr. Rahimian was among those who went under their microscope. They constantly questioned and harassed him. Mr. Rahimian was a member of the Bahá’í committee of Tehran’s District 7, encompassing Tehran Pars and Narmak neighborhoods. On the next day they brought in the rest of the members of District 7 committee, including Mr. Kamran Lotfi. Mr. Razavi came too. But he was not a member of the District 7 committee. By accident, he was a guest at the home of one of the members of the Distict 7 committee. They brought him since he was there, in the same manner that they had arrested me by accident. Mr. Ali-Mohammad Zamani and Mr. Saberian [came too].

Another person who went under their microscope was a woman named Sharqieh Imani (her husband’s name was Moshirian). Oh what they did to this woman! Everybody is interrogated at the same place [and men and women are not separated]. They started Ms. Imani’s interrogation at 6 am. They beat here cruelly. They took her in several times. Her feet were so badly bruised that she could not walk. When they wanted to take her from the flogging room to Branch eight for interrogation, they had to walk a bit. Ms. Imani crawled on all fours. She could not walk on the her feet. They ridiculed her. They said, “She’s become a sheep. Say baa!” They humiliated and insulted her a lot. I recall that she lost consciousness while being flogged. I could tell from the noise. They brought in a doctor for her. I do not know this doctor’s job was. Obviously, it was not to treat her. He gave her an injection so that she would regain consciousness. And it began again.

When you become a veteran prisoner in that hallway, you become used to the things that I said were shocking and horrifying. Humans can get used to new conditions. Later on, before I was about to be released, the interrogations intensified. I went to be interrogated so that they could make a decision regarding my case file. One time during lunch, the person next to me, who was being interrogated at another branch, had been beaten. His foot had split open and was bleeding. They were bandaging it. His foot was bleeding and I was eating my lunch. Unfortunately, I had reached a point where this had happened a lot and had become rudimentary.

On the day that they were beating Ms. Imani the hallway was very crowded. Most prisoners had come from the ward and they had become used [to the situation] like me. It was noon. The guard who brought food was called Seyyed. He would say to prisoners, “Why don’t you eat? It won’t last! Don’t ask me for food later!” That’s how saddening and tense the atmosphere was. Everyone was so sad that they could not have a bite of food.

I saw Ms. Imani after I was released. She told me that she had seen an orthopedic doctor. The doctor had taken an x-ray. She said the doctor had held his head between his hands for several minutes and said, “I cannot believe what they have done to this foot. The bone on the foot’s sole has deformed.” Ms. Imani was among those who was tortured a lot.

After twelve days, on May 16, they took us to Gohardasht prion, which was a solitary prison at that time. Karaj’s Gohardasht prison has its own story. Maybe that is the real prison. They told me that they wanted to release me. I was thinking about freed. They put us in a minibus and took us to Gohardasht prison. They took us [all male Bahá’í prisoners].

When I got in, they gave me a plate, a plastic cup and a spoon. The cup’s upper half was torn. They had had so much tea in it that is was completely black. Or maybe it was just dirty. Probably [it was because of] the tea. The dimensions of the cell were 1.85 meters wide and 2.5 meters long. I say 1.85 meters because my height was 1.87 meters and when I slept in its width I could not stretch my legs fully. I had to bend my legs for two centimeters. There was a blanket on the cell floor. The opposing wall had a window that could not be opened, and it did not have a view. You could open it from the top for a little bit but it would be blocked. Air could come in, but the window was covered by steel sheets. It did not have a view at all. On the other side there was a wooden door, with a hatch that could be closed from outside. There was a toilet and a small sink at another corner of the cell.

You have to picture the situation that I am describing. Imagine that in the present day they take away your cell phone and you go to your room. Try it for 24 hours: not sleeping, not having a schedule, complete idleness. See how it goes. It’s not easy. Days and days go by and the only thing in front of you is a wall. In the first days you think about your case file. You think about the questions and the dangers you could face. You think about who might be arrested, and what you should say in response to a particular question. These [thoughts] are repeated [in your head] and you write scenarios. After that you think about your family. You think about your father, your mother, your sister, your friends, and your memories. Then that’s done. You reach a point that there isn’t anything in your mind. You have gone over everything that there is several times. There is nothing. You don’t hear anything. You don’t speak with anyone. And that’s only if they leave you alone and don’t harass you.

The toilet had clogged. When you would flush water would get up. Well, that’s a big problem. I would bang on the door constantly and say that they need to fix it. Well, they ignore you. They do not respond. You bang on the door [some more]. [The guard] tells you to turn your back to the door because you are not supposed to see them. He opens the door. He slaps, kicks, and insults you. “You so-and-so! Why are you banging on the door? Did I not tell you that you are not supposed to bang on the door?” He closes the door and leaves. Well, what now? The flush does not work. If I am not supposed to bang on the door, what am I supposed to do? They had not told me. I was beaten up once or twice. When he opened the door on the third time, in the midst of being beaten up, I asked, “What am I supposed to do if I am not supposed to bang on the door? The flush does not work.” He asked why I had not put a sign outside the door. “What sign?” I asked. I said that I had not been given a sign. He said that whenever I needed something I had to put a sign. [I asked] “What sign?” He said, “If you don’t have a sign, take off your sock and put it there.” I realized that from now on I am supposed to put my sock over there. When you put your sock there, they pass by the door twenty time [but] they ignore you. Nobody asks what you want.

They would give you a small piece of cheese every morning. You had to put the cup in the plate and slide it out. [The guard] would pour tea in it. That moment is party time! Amidst absolute silence and idleness eating breakfast is very important. [They give you] a piece of stale Barbari bread sizing your palm, and a piece of cheese. I may eat that in a single bite today. The cup was torn, and the tea spilled into the plate.

I was in solitary confinement for 60 days. I was arrested on April 29. On May 16 I went into solitary confinement. During all this time I was in the same clothes that I was wearing when I was arrested. When someone lives in his or her home, he or she changes clothes two to three times a day. Pay attention to the number of days in which I was wearing the same clothes. My family had found out where I was. They knew I was in Gohardasht prison. My family had brought me clothes, but they had not given it to me. When I was being released, they said, “Here are your clothes.”

They had taken us to the third floor. Later I learned that they probably did not use the first floor. The second floor was for prisoners whom they wanted to treat a little better. Prisoners on the second floor maybe had family visits. They definitely had newspapers and books. They gave them fruits. There was nothing on the third floor. No visits, no phone calls, no books, no newspapers. There wasn’t anything. Zilch. It was unbearably hot. The cell’s outer wall that faced the courtyard was either fully or partially a steel sheet because the steel window and its cover were welded to the wall. The light on the ceiling was on around the clock. I was constantly sweating due to the heat. I could not sleep. Maybe you could sleep for a couple of hours after midnight.

Sometimes they pretended that you are in the execution list. For instance, [the guard] would come in the middle of the night and open the hatch. He would knock on the glass covering the hatch. He would say, “Come forward.” I would go.] He would ask [in a hushed tone], “What is your name?” Keep in mind that I had just woken up. “Farzin Parsa,” I responded. “Shh! Quiet! What is your name?” he said [in a hushed tone]. “Sorry. Farzin Parsa,” I said [in a hushed tone]. He pretended to look at a sheet of paper. “Ok, yes, that’s correct. Go back to sleep,” [he said quietly]. But you cannot sleep!

Out of that 60 days, 30 days were in Ramadan. You had no choice but to fast during the 30 days of Ramdan. When they brought us the pre-dawn breakfast, I tried to keep it so that I could eat in the course of the day. But without exception it would go bad due to the heat and smelled sour. The only sounds I heard were the sounds of Shia mourning rituals, particularly during Ramadan, or the sounds of flogging, shrieks, cries and gunshots. These were the only voices that you would hear.

In the [solitary] hallway I was [cell] number 23. Mr. Rahimian was in [cell] number 22. The room at the end of the hallway was the shower room. They took us to take a shower once a week, for ten minutes. Getting in, taking your clothes off, taking a shower with cold water, getting your clothes back on and getting out should have been done in ten minutes. We only had one soap.

Unfortunately, the shower room had another function too. When Tolouee and the rest came for interrogation at Gohardasht, that shower room became a flogging room. They would take [prisoners] into the shower room and flog them. They did not interrogate me there.

Rahimian, who was in the cell next to mine, had a hoarse voice that I could hear around the clock. He could not sleep. He later told us that Tolouee and the rest came to interrogate him. The shower room was used for flogging. We could hear the echo of the flogging. It was the worst [sound].

You could sense that Mr. Rahmian was special to them. They had either told the young guards working at the hallway – [because] they were not interrogators – or they were doing it on their personal initiative. They beat Mr. Rahimian really They would [also] beat Mr. Rahimian inside his cell, without any particular reason.

I recall that during Ramadan they were giving tea after iftar. They would open the cell doors and tell us to slide our cups out. When [the guard] gave Mr. Rahimian’s tea, he said, “Don’t give me a wet cup again!”[3] He closed the door and walked toward my cell. Listening to the sound of him walking, I realized that he returned to Mr. Rahimian’s cell. He opened the door. He said, “Do you realize why I told you that you should not hand me a wet cup? Oh, where’s your tea?” Mr. Rahimian said, “I threw it away.” You have no idea how important is drinking tea over there. You have a party for yourself. Time does not pass. You have to enjoy every single sip when you drink it. Due to that person’s humiliating comment about making him ritually unclean by handing him a wet cup, Mr. Rahimian told him that he did not want the tea he had given him. I understand how important that tea was.

Solitary confinement is a complete form of torture. I confidently say that people who spend numerous days in solitary confinement lose their normal mental state. I attest that I did not have [a normal mental state after solitary confinement]. When I went to the general ward [I evaluated] my thoughts in solitary and wondered why those thoughts had entered my mind.

After 60 days they returned me and my friend to Evin prison’s general ward. My friend went to general ward 325-6 and I went to the general ward 325-5. I was in a terrible shape. I was thin and haggard, and my hair and beard were long. When they transferred us from Gohardasht they did not directly they take us to the general ward. They took us to Branch [eight], in that same hallway. We were in that hallway from the morning until afternoon. Over there I learned that many other Bahá’ís had been arrested. Ms. Pakazma, a member of the Tehran Assembly, was there. I learned that they had arrested Mr. Jahangir Hedayati and [Ahmad] Bashiri. I realized that the situation has taken a turn for the worse.

I went to the general ward. Over there I got better. The conditions were much easier. After my release, many of the people who came to see me asked what I ate in prison. Maybe for those outside prison food was important. But for us in the inside food was not the issue. I can confidently say that Fridays were the only days that I could eat enough to feel full. They gave Āsh-e Reshteh on Fridays. The guys who we used to call old men – who were younger then than I am now – either ate very little or not at all, because Āsh-e Reshteh is a flatulent and gave them unbearable stomachache. I did not feel full on any other day.

The foods I remember were bread and eggs, dates, and beans. Maybe once a week they gave rice and chicken. The number of Bahá’ís had reached 25 to 30. The total amount of meat in our food would not amount to one chicken. The food was of a very low quality and quantity. There was a small shop from which you could buy some necessities like toothbrush, toothpaste, and pajamas. It did not have these items all the time. Sometimes they had fruit. With respect to sleeping arrangements, there were no beds. We all slept on the floor. Our room in the general ward was 4 meters wide and 6 meters long. Our number had reached 30 to 35. There were four or five Jews. The number of Muslims was five to six persons.

At night we had a half-meter blanket that we folded two or three times and used as a mattress. If the number [of prisoners in a room] was high and there was no space, they had to sleep in the hallway. Thankfully we had access to the courtyard and could walk there.

Many Bahá’ís came to the ward. When I first came to prison there were only two Bahá’ís. One was Mr. Gholam-Ali Nikkhah. He was an elderly and illiterate man. He was a locksmith. He had become a Bahá’í himself. His son was a member of the Basij and had put his father in prison. He had said that his father was an apostate. There was another man named Saeed Moshtael. He was a very good young man. Everyone in the ward loved him. When I first went to the ward two Bahá’ís, Mr. Soheil Safaei and Mr. Jalal Hakiman, had just been martyred. There was a beautiful and spiritual atmosphere among the inmates in the ward. They had brought them from Qezel Hesar prison to Evin to be executed. So they knew that they were to be executed. I did not have the honor to meet them. But the other inmates, mostly Muslims, praised them a lot, particularly Mr. Safaei.

They said that a few days before the execution, a guard named Haj Reza, who was in charge of the ward, had summoned Soheil Safaei and told him that his sentence had been issued and was to be carried out. He had told him that his only way out was to recant [his faith]. “Will you recant or not?” he had said. Soheil had said not and he had been executed. I have a picture that Soheil had purloined from his case file in Evin prison. One time during interrogation he had seen that his case file was there. He had seen his picture, and he had taken it and brought it to the ward. He had given it to a Muslim inmate. After a few months he gave it to me and told me that it was Soheil Safaei’s picture. Soheil had used a razor or a knife to tear off the part of the picture that showed his prison inmate number.

After a while Mr. Rahimian and Mr. Ali-Mohammad Zamani came to the general ward from Gohardasht prison. Then Mr. Kamran Lotfi came. They had taken Mr. Lotfi to ward 325-6 next door. After a few days they transferred him to our ward, 325-5. Mr. Zamani was a simple, good-hearted angel. They accused such a person of espionage. He said that one day in Gohardasht Tolouee had flogged him during interrogation. Then Tolouee had told him that he would resume the interrogation the next day. But he did not come the next day, nor the day after that. “He did not come for 45 days, and I was worried that maybe he had had an accident! Maybe something has happened to his wife and children!” said he. He added, “I would pray for him, fearing whether something bad has happened to him.” Tolouee came after 45 days. “I said, ‘Mr. Tolouee you told me that you’d come the next day, but you didn’t. I was praying for you, hoping that nothing has happened to you.’ He slapped me in the face and said, ‘You so-and-so! You don’t need to pray for me!’”

During those early days, when Mr. Zamani was flogged for the second time, he was sitting next to the door in the hallway. He was rubbing and massaging his foot, crying out, “Doctor! Bring a doctor!” Tolouee came over, kicked him in the stomach, and said, “Why are you being loud? You want a doctor? It’s just the beginning! You haven’t seen anything yet!” When I used to relate this story, Mr. Zamani would say, “He was right. It was just the beginning!”

Lotfi was 31 years old when he was martyred. He was a funny and knowledgeable young man. His son was two years old when he was martyred. He said that in the Gohardasht solitary ward Mr. Hedayati was in the adjoining cell. He said that they would get in his cell and flog him. He said that after going through a lot of torture Mr. Hedayati turned to the person hitting him and said, “It’s enough, please have mercy.” When that person continued to torture him Mr. Rahimian said, “Have mercy on your own young age. Don’t hit.”

They gradually brought in other Bahá’ís. One day they brought in Mr. Jamal Kashani. He also went under their microscope. They tormented him a lot. He was a cool guy. One morning they took him for interrogation. He did not return until the evening. He was bruised from his big toe to his neck. He said, “They told me to sit outside [the interrogation room] but I came to the ward on my own.” There was a space where those who were supposed to return to the ward would sit down. A minibus would come and take them to the ward.

He said, “They wanted to take me to Karaj so that I would name the members of the Karaj assembly. I cannot bring myself to do it. I will kill myself and will not let this happen. They may take me every second. I will throw myself out of the car on the road to Karaj.” He was a member of the assembly of Mianjaddeh, in the vicinity of Karaj.

That night, maybe at 9 pm, the prison’s PA system hurriedly asked Jamal Kashani to report downstairs. He was taken away. We did not hear from him because they put him in a solitary cell. Later, he told us that on that night they had taken him to Karaj, and that he had thrown himself out of the car. He showed me the buttons on the pockets of his jeans, which were worn down as he had been dragged over the pavement. When he had told me that he was going to throw himself out of the car, I had told him that he could not, that they would seat him on the back seat with a guard on either side. But apparently that was not like that. He had been next to a door, and he had opened the door. He had not been handcuffed. He said the cars pulled over and found him on the side of the road. Later, they took Jamal Kashani and he was forced to provide the name of one of the assembly members.

They took Jamal Kashani to the home of one of the members of Karaj’s Local Assembly. Jamal had revealed his name. He was overweight. Later on, when he came to the general ward, he told us what had happened. He said, “They brought Jamal in front of me. They would say, ‘If you don’t speak and don’t cooperate, you’ll look like him.’ Jamal had a sad face and was in a horrible shape. Tolouee said, ‘If you did not cooperate I would make the skin of your belly stick to your waist.” The members of Karaj’s Local Assembly came to our ward one by one. Mr. Farhand, Mr. Haqihi and Mr. Norouzi came. They were all martyred.

It was quite a situation. The Bahá’ís would come every day, and they were beaten up badly every day. One day they took Mr. Safaei[4] to interrogation. He was an Auxiliary Board Member from Gorgan, Interrogation chairs, like the school chairs of the old days, had a table on which you could write. They had hit him in the face so hard that he and the chair were thrown onto the ground. He was trapped in the chair. Then they had kicked him so hard in the ribs that his ribs had suffered hairline fractures. There were blisters on the sole of his foot. The blisters were the size of eggs. If they knew that prisoners were in such a terrible shape, they would not let them in the wards so that the news of their condition would not spread. If a foot splits open they definitely did not bring that person to the ward. They take him or her to solitary confinement. Mr. Safaei’s foot had not split open but it had swollen and had large blisters. We had a doctor in our ward who worked in the infirmary but was a prisoner himself. Mr. Safaei, being afraid of being taken to solitary confinement, had not stated how horribly he was doing. He came into the ward. But his condition was unbearable. The doctor said that he had to take him to the infirmary, open the foot up, and bandage it. While were a good group and we enjoyed being together, it was upsetting. Our condition was not easy.

They took Mr. Rahimian and Mr. Lotfi to the solitary ward one or more two times. While in the ward, every time I woke up Mr. Rahimian was sitting. He could not sleep. He was worried, miserable and in pain.

From the interrogators’ point of view flogging the soles of feet is the worst and most effective kind of torture. There is no need to do anything else. Foot is a nerve center. When they hit it the pain really becomes unbearable. As attested by most of the prisoners I met, including prisoners that were imprisoned during the Shah’s reign as well those imprisoned during the Islamic Republic, all would say that the worst kind of torture is flogging the soles of feet. Nothing is worse than that. But they did other things too. Mr. Rahimian said that one time they tied his legs using ropes and chains and pulled him up by a pulley. Only his head and shoulders remained on the floor. They flogged him in that position.

One time Mr. Lotfi said that during interrogation they had forced him to bend his knees, turn his upper body to the right, put up his hands, and stand on his toes. Try doing it. You will last more than a few minutes. But they forced you to stand this way. If you fell, they would beat you, saying, “You so-and-so! Why did you fall?” And they would force you to do it all over again. Beating during the interrogation was very common. [They would hit you for] the most insignificant pretext. They would ask you a question. If you wrote answer that the interrogator did not like, they would tear up the paper angrily, they would slap you a couple of times and insult you some more. They would swear at you for wasting public resources. They would say that sheet of paper was a public resource. These were very common.

One time during interrogation [the interrogator] asked, “Will you condemn Israel’s crimes?” I said, “In my opinion every crime is condemned regardless of the country that commits it, whether it is Israel, Iran or America. I condemn crimes.” He said, “Members of your assembly do not say this. Do you want to see?” I said, “It is up to you.” He said, “Call Molouk Khadem and ask her to come in.” Tolouee was talking to me. Either Mohammad Reza or Fekri brought in Ms. Khadem and sat her down next to me. Ms. Khadem unconsciously extended her hand to the table so that she could have a glass of water. Mohammad Reza started to whip her. “You so-and-so! Don’t make it unclean! Why are you touching the glass of water?” Ms. Khadem said, “Because you have not given me any water for five days. I have not had any water.” He said, “Drink snake venom instead of water! Why do you want to drink water?” They would put pressure on you in every way they could. He asked that question from Ms. Khadem rather differently. He asked, “As a member of Tehran’s assembly do you condemn Israel’s crimes?” “No,” Ms. Khadem responded. He asked why. She said, “Because from the moment I was arrested I am no longer a [member of Tehran’s assembly. I cannot make a statement on behalf of Tehran’s assembly.” They beat her again. They flogged and punched her. “Get out you so-and-so!” “Call Hedayati,” he said. [Another one of the interrogators] opened the door and said, “I don’t see him.” [The first interrogator] said, “He’s lying down in that corner.” They brought in Mr. Hedayati.

They did not beat Mr. Hedayati in front of me. The interrogator asked [Mr. Hedayati], “As a member of the National Assembly do you condemn Israel’s crimes?” Mr. Hedayati responded as if he was giving a lecture for to a Bahá’ís. “No,” he said forcefully. “Why?” the interrogator asked. Mr. Hedayati said, “Because it is a political opinion. In accordance with my faith, I will not get involved in politics.” “Very well. Sit down,” said the interrogator.

There was a man in our ward named Mr. Namazi. He had been arrested on the charge of being a monarchist. He was in the room next to ours. I think we were in room 5. He was in room 3 or 4. Tolouee interrogated monarchists in the same Branch Eight. Mr. Namazi liked me a lot and anytime he went for interrogation he would tell me what he had heard about the Bahá’ís over there. It had been exactly two months and one day since the day I had seen Ms. Khadem and Mr. Hedayati when they took me in for interrogation. Mr. Namazi called me over. He said, “There was an old man in the Branch named Mr. Hedayati. I think he had gone mad.” “How come?” I asked. He said, “Because they asked him questions and he have ludicrous responses.” I said, “What did they ask?” He said, “Tolouee did not miss a change to insult, humiliate and torture him.” I asked, “What did he want from him?” He said, “He insisted that he should condemn Israel.” “What did he say in response?” I asked. He said, “He would say I do not get involved in politics.” Mr. Namazi was telling this story as a sign of Mr. Hedayati’s perceived madness.

As far as I know, heard and saw, two persons, Mr. Jahangir Hedayati, and Ms. Molouk Khadem, who was a member of the Tehran Assembly, were tortured severely. It was intolerable. It is impossible to describe. I think Ms. Khadem was held in solitary confinement for 13 months. Mr. Hedayati and Ms. Khadem spent two months in the hallway that I said would break down the strongest person in the world. When I say spent two months there, I am talking about torture, beating, and misery.

When they took me to interrogation that day, I honestly did not know that the woman sleeping in front of me on the floor of the hallway was Ms. Khadem. From under my blindfolds, I could see a woman wearing a chador who is lying on the floor and moans in agony. I wondered what they had done to this woman that made her moan like that. I later realized that she was Ms. Khadem.

When I was there, they took Mr. Rahimian, Mr. Lotfi and Mr. Zamani to solitary confinement for an additional time, and forever. The way they took them we thought that they were taking them to be executed. Because it was known that they carry out executions on Wednesdays. They had called Mr. Safaei and Mr. Hakiman on a Wednesday after lunch too. But one of the inmates in the ward went to be interrogated on the next day or the day after that, and he had seen them in the hallway. But he said they were in a terrible shape. They had beaten them up again. I did not see Mr. Rahimian, Mr. Zamani, and Mr. Lotfi after that. Jamal Kashani returned to our ward once, but they took him away again. I was in prison for 270 days. I think I was on February 13, 1984. Unfortunately, all of them were executed.

I was 21 years old. High school diploma, military service, prison. The interrogations at the central headquarters of the revolutionary guards had a calm atmosphere. When they asked a question, I wrote a lengthy response. I answered from the standpoint of a Bahá’í to the best of my ability and knowledge. Evin prison was an entirely different place. I told myself this is no place to act brave. In those early days they did not know anything about the Bahá’í community. Therefore, they used unbearable torture to obtain information. In the beginning their goal was to identify the members of the National Assembly and the Tehran Assembly. This is what I would say: “I graduated from high school, then I went to military service. I have just returned from my military service. I don’t know anyone. I don’t go anywhere. I haven’t been anywhere.” During the interrogation I would write short answers. To be honest, I played a role. For instance, I used to make spelling errors. I thought that acting this way would make them think that I am an inexperienced young man who does not know anything, and that they would leave me alone. That is how the pressure I was under decreased a bit. But their pressure was unbearable.

They had learned that Mr. Lotfi knew Mr. Tavakkoli and where his home was. During the interrogations, Mr. Lotfi had resisted when they had flogged him. Mr. Lotfi said that they flogged him with something that was unbearable. They lashed him ten times with that. He said, “One time I was giving Mr. Tavakkoli a ride to Yousef Abad neighborhood. Mr. Tavakkoli asked me to stop by an alley. I do not know where his home is.” After the ten unbearable lashes [he told this story to the interrogators,] saying that I know that I dropped him off by an alley. They took him there, and he shows them where he dropped him off. They went to the local mosque and asked about Mr. Tavakkoli. They were not able to arrest Mr. Tavakkoli at that time. My point is that their efforts were geared toward identifying prominent Bahá’ís, particularly the members of the National Assembly and the Tehran Assembly.

One afternoon, as we were sitting in the hallway, I whispered to my friend that they beat me this time I would name Farid Behmardi. I really liked Farid Behmardi. I knew that he lived in an apartment in Jordan area. But I thought he had left that apartment. He had told me that he was supposed to leave the apartment. I said, “If they hit me, I will not be able to take it, and I will say that I know Farid Behmardi. They will take me to Farid Behmardi’s home, but I know that Farid has left.” Later, when I asked Farid, he said that he had not left! Nevertheless, they later arrested Farid, and, unfortunately, they martyred him.

Later I learned that they had put pressure on members of the National Assembly to make on-camera confessions, or to write anti- Bahá’í literature. I was barred from having prison visits for four months. I did not see anyone. The rest probably did not see anyone for a longer period. They had falsely told Mr. Rahimian that his child had been killed in a car accident. Now we know that this is a tactic that they implement against many political prisoners. But at that time Mr. Rahimian had believed it. You cannot imagine how miserable a feeling one would have when one thinks that his or her young son has been killed in a car accident.

During the first days I was interrogated every day. I was not interrogated in Gohardasht. And when I returned to the general ward I was not interrogated for one or two months. In the sixth or seventh month of my detention I was interrogated a few times. At that point they wanted to finish up my case to see whether I can go to trial or not. The pressure of interrogators increased a bit. During those final days the interrogation was [mostly about] my own case. They wanted to see whether I was a member of any Bahá’í institution or not. I denied everything. I said that I was not. My excuse was that I had just returned from military service. My case was an easy one, and they did not find anything. I was released without going to trial.

I once saw my case file on the table. It said, “membership in the misguided Bahá’í sect.” This was written on my case file.

I did know that they had arrested [my brother] Foad. He as 18 years old. He was invited to his friend’s birthday party. He went there. They had loud music on at the party. A neighbor called the revolutionary guards. They guards raided the party. The realized Foad was a Bahá’í. They released the rest, but they brought Foad to Evin prison. He had come to Evin prison and I did not know about it. One day I saw Jamal Kashani when I had gone for interrogation. [Well,] I did not “see” him. I was blindfolded. While I was having food, he sat next to the tray. He said, “Do you know your brother is here?” I said that I did not. “Your brother is in ward 325-6. I want to tell you something else too. They have arrested your father and another one of your brothers too,” said he. I later learned that they had brough in my father and other brother just for one day. But Foad was in ward 325-6 for four months.

One day they called me and told me that I was free. When they had taken me to Gohardasht prison they had told me that they were releasing me. Based on that experience I thought that they wanted to change my ward. I did not believe it. But they released me.

They brought me over, opened the prison door, [and said] get out. I took a cab and went home. They would let us get money from our families. I think 300 toumans per month. My family had no idea [that I was released]. When I rang the bell, my mom asked who it was over the intercom. I said, “mailman.” She thought that I had written a letter from prison. She was excited and picked up some cash to give a tip to the mailman, but she saw that it was me.

All letters to and from prison are controlled. When you go and speak with a visitor over the phone, I know that is being controlled. I have the letters I sent from prison. It is as if you have written one letter and copied the rest from that one. You could not write anything. Just, “It’s me. I’m doing well. Hope to see you.” Just two lines.

The revolutionary guards raided our home four times in total. The first time was in 1980, when they raided our home as a Bahá’í residence they knew. They took our books. It was during my military service, but I was home at that time. They raided our home three additional times between 1983 and 1985. I was in prison during one of the raids. I was home during the other two.

I do not know who had reported to them that we had Bahá’í administrative events at our home. Our neighbor from across the street said, “Before they raided your home, they knocked on my door and said that they had received reports that a lot of people come to this house. They hold a lot of meetings at this house. What do you know? I said, ‘They are the best residents of this neighborhood. I don’t know anything.”

Of those three raids, the first one was probably due to my imprisonment or Foad’s. One time was for the report they had received. They searched our home, asked questions, took our books, photo albums and cash.

A number of my interrogation sessions were geared toward converting me to Islam. They only argued over ideology. They would mention verses from the Most Holy Book and argue over them. They pressured me to become a Muslim. Some of the interrogation sessions for this purpose. Some sessions were for me to name other Bahá’ís. Some sessions were aimed at finding out what administrative bodies I was a member of and what were my activities. They had variety.

An interrogator named Mojtaba came along. His interrogations were of a religious and ideological nature. If we assume that there were 10 interrogation sessions – the number was much higher in reality – eight sessions were with Tolouee himself and two were with Mojtaba. Fekri and Mohammad Reza were there only to beat you. They did not have any kind of logic or knowledge.

Interrogation of the MEK and Fedaian-e Khalq- minority faction took place in a different hallway, near the entrance to ward 209. Due to the armed struggle that they waged agaiy nst the government, they were treated in a very harsh manner. There was a lot of pressure against them. Tortures were awful. Their flogging was horrendous.

Jamal Kashani said that they handcuffed him [in a standing position] to the door that opened to the hallway in which the flogging room of [the MEK AND Fedaian-e Khalq minority faction] was located. [Over there] they were always beating someone. and you could hear someone’s moans and cries. [Jamal Kashani said that] they only opened the handcuffs three times a day for going to the restroom and eating. He said, “The person interrogating Fedaian-e Khalq minority faction once yelled, ‘What is Tolouee doing? If I want to punish someone, I will tie him up like this for a maximum of three days. I have been walking here for a week or ten days and he is here. I will take the responsibility. Open his handcuffs.’” This meant that the number of days [in which he was handcuffed in a standing position to the door] was high, and it was unbearable.

A guard in the hallway, who wasn’t an interrogator, accosted a female MEK supporter and asked, “What’s up with your arm?” “It’s burned,” she replied. “How did it burn?” he asked. “They burned it with an iron,” she said. That’s something that I head with my own ears. Their goal is to break you. When a prisoner breaks, he or she does not have anything to lose. You see many prisoners who become sellouts. They reach the point of begging. They do anything to curry favor with the interrogators and gain an advantage. A large portion of the suffering that prisoners go through is due to other prisoners and the reports that they provide. And you wouldn’t believe over what rudimentary matters. On one occasion they took away an inmate from our ward, interrogated him, beat him, and told him that they had received a report that he had laughed when he had read a grammatically incorrect newspaper title aloud and sneered about it. “You laugh at Imam [Khomeini]?” he was asked. Well, who could have reported this except another inmate?

One time in Branch Eight, a girl who was from another branch came in. She said, “Brother Mohammad Reza, brother so-and-so has asked me to his temporary wife for tonight. I wanted to ask your opinion.” He responded, “It is appropriate. He is a devout and a good brother.” I did not witness forcible rape of women. It definitely happens. But when they bring a prisoner to the point that you resort to this to preserve yourself and spend your day without being harassed, this is not different from rape in my opinion. You see and hear things that you would not believe them if you were outside [the prison]. You would think they are tales. Maybe now most people believe it. But at that time nobody believed it.

I was a member of the national Bahá’í youth committee. But there was no need for it to come up over there, and it did not.

Members of the Karaj Assembly directly came to the ward after being interrogated. They were not tortured, nor flogged, nor slapped in the face. They came to the ward after a preliminary interrogation. They were with us for a month or two. One of them said that so-and-so should not have said this during interrogation. I asked him if he had been slapped yet. He said that he had not. “So you cannot judge,” I said.

They were taken after they were in our ward for one or two months. They were beatan, flogged, and put in solitary confinement.

One time I got really scared during interrogation. When I was a member of the national Bahá’í youth committee I used to travel a lot to Sistan and Baluchistan Province. Then they told us that members of the committee should not travel, and that they should send others instead. Vahid Mahmoudi was a young man who had recently started his Bahá’í activities. Poor fellow was my replacement for traveling to Sistan and Baluchistan. I drew him a map on a piece of paper and gave him the number of a man to call when he gets to Zahedan. During that period many young people crossed the border illegally into Pakistan [to escape Iran]. Zaheden’s police were told to question young people who look a certain way.

Vahid Mahmoudi fit that profile. He was a young man who obviously was not local and had come from Tehran. They arrested Vahid. Vahid was in Zahden prison for a while. Then they sent him to Qasr prison. Then they arrested me. I hoped and prayed that the link between Vahid and I was not discovered. One day, during my sixth or seventh month [of my detention], they called me in for interrogation. They called me in a hurried way too, which frightened me. When I was sitting in the hallway someone said, “The person who has come from Qasr prison, raise your hand. What was your name?” “Vahid Mahmoudi,” [Vahid said]. “Oh no! They must have called me in for this purpose. They did not bother Vahid as long as he was in Qasr prison. They have beaten him here, he has relented and told them that Farzin Parsa has sent him, and he has given them my name,” I thought. Then [the guard] said, “Farzin Parsa, get up and go in.” I started to shiver [in fear]. The first question he asked was about ideological issues, inviting me to convert to Islam. It had nothing to do with Vahid.

Executions of inmates in my ward took place after I was released. They included members of the District 7 Committee, members of Mianjaddeh Assembly, members of Karaj Assembly, and others we used to see in the hallway such as Mr. Hedayati and Mr. Bashiri. They were executed one or two months after I was released.

There was an old man named Ardeshir Sistani. Maybe he was 85 years old. They took him away from our ward in a manner that looked like he would be executed. But we later learned that that he had been taken back to Qasr prison. It took us a week or two until we learned that he had not been executed. During those days everyone thought he had been executed.

In the last days that Mr. Rahimian was in our ward, they took him to his home in order to list his properties. We understood that they wanted to confiscate his property. Later, they confiscated his property and threw out his wife and children from their home.

Imagine being in the same ward with a group of people. You are released but the rest are executed. It was not easy at all. Those days are beautiful in terms of spiritual belief, but they are difficult.

The severe conditions for the Bahá’í community, which I said started in 1983, continued until 1986. The news of arrests, imprisonment, and execution of friends were incessant. One of the people whom I respected and loved was Farid Behmardi.

I was in the midst of the events involving the Bahá’í community, its administration and its issues. Its atmosphere was like that of a nation in war. Every soldier and every citizen feel that they have to defend their land. The Bahá’í community was under immense pressure. The pressure was intolerable. You would hear bad news every day. One day they raided someone’s home. The next day they would confiscate someone’s property. One day they would kick someone out of his or her home. One day they would arrest someone. One day they would execute someone. The unity [within the Bahá’í community] during these events was beautiful. I was right in the middle of it.

Farid Behmardi and Dr. Farhad Asdaqi were arrested after I was released. I met them after my release, and I have memories with them. I had an appointment with Farid Behmardi. I did not know that he had been arrested the day before. [He was] under severe torture for 24 hours. Then they took him to the residence of a Bahá’í [family], where he had previously stayed. They wanted to arrest whose who came [to see him]. I had an appointment to see him on that day at that place. The lady who was hosting Farid at their home acted smartly, and I realized that I should leave. When I rang the bell, she asked who it was over the intercom. I said, “This is Farzin.” She mentioned her husband and said, “He is not home, please return later.” First, her tone was as if she was talking to a stranger. It was not a tone I expected. I expected her to say, “Come up, Farzin!” I realized that I should not stay there, and the situation is not normal. Later she told me that when they asked her who I was, she had told them that I was her husband’s employee. Farid had a yellow Renault. When I was walking away from that home, that Mohammad Reza – whom I actually didn’t know was Mohammad Reza because I didn’t know any faces, only names – drove by and passed me. Maybe he wanted to see who I was. Anyway, he did not arrest me. I knew the Renault very well. I realized that they have arrested Farid. Later, Farid sent a message from inside the prison, telling me not to stay at home. He warned me that they were going to arrest me.

When I was released, what was going on in prison was so serious that Farid came to see me and learn what was taking place there. I did not know that Farid had been elected to the National Assembly and Continental Board of Counselors. Farid came over. He and I went into a room to speak privately. I said, “Farid, with all due respect, I am sorry, but I only give this information to members of the National Assembly.” He did not say that he was a member of the National Assembly at that moment. He said, “Ok, I will arrange it and will let you know.” He arranged for an appointment at the home that I mentioned before. Representatives of the National Assembly came. Farid was there too. He wrote down all the information. For instance, he wrote down what I had described about Evin prison, including its buildings and hallways. He had drawn a map. When he was arrested, these notes were taken too. “Who has given you this information?” [they had asked him]. “Farzin Parsa,” he told them. That’s why he sent me a message and told me to get out. I left home for a few days, but it was difficult, and I went back home.

After I was released, I bought a car to work as a taxi driver. [I did that] for only a few months. I changed my career very soon and became a private tutor. I taught math and physics. I did that for a few years. I got married in 1988. I was a private tutor until 1989. Towards the end of 1989 or early 1990 my friend and I got into industrial production. We started a factory and produced aluminum pipes and aluminum profiles. It was a successful business. I left private tutoring and got busy with this business.

Industrial production was a business field in which the Bahá’ís had some leeway. This was due to the country’s needs. The nation was in a post-war period. It needed industrial production. The Bahá’ís who were in this field did not have a problem. I later heard that there were some problems, but not during my time.

I was barred from leaving the country. When we wanted to leave Iran, I went to the prosecutor’s office for one or two years. Before that they did not give passports to the Bahá’ís. But at some point they started to issue passports to the Bahá’ís. They eventually [gave me a passport and let me leave Iran] once through Mehrabad Airport.

When I first went to the passport office, they told me that I was barred from exiting the country, and that I should go to the prosecutor’s office. At the prosecutor’s office they told me that I was barred from leaving the country, and that they would not issue me a passport. After going to that office for one or two years, the person in charge finally agreed [to give me a passport]. He told me that he will let me leave the country once within the one year. My passport says, “The holder of this passport has the right to leave the country once from Mehrabad Airport within one year.” I left Iran on March 25, 2000. I left and never returned.

Foad was in prison for four months. He was not interrogated. They kept him in limbo. My older brother Mehrdad found a contact who was devout and had some influence. He secured Foad’s release as an act of kindness. One day they called us and told us to pick him up. We took a deed [as bail] and Foad was released.

My own release was on bail too. It was a property deed that one of our acquaintances had provided. Before leaving Iran, I went to the prosecutor’s office with that person to release the deed. When we went there, they told us that the bail had expired after ten years, and that the deed was no longer the collateral.

More or less, I have lived with these memories in the past 38 years. During the first twenty years I probably reviewed these memories every night. After that I thought about them too. I have some notes too, but I didn’t need to review them because the memories are recorded and alive in my mind.

[1] The Arabic phrase رفیق, translated to “companion” in Bahá’í writings, also means “comrade.”

[2] The Most Holy Name is a Bahá’í insignia.

[3] A Bahá’í person is considered to be an infidel and ritually unclean. Under Islamic jurisprudence, water may transfer uncleanliness from an infidel to a Muslim.

[4] This person is a different person from Mr. Soheil Safaei, mentioned earlier in the statement, who was executed.