Ahmad Ahmad Memoirs (34)

Edited by Mohsen Kazemi

Ahmad Ahmad Memoirs (34)
Edited by Mohsen Kazemi
Soureh Mehr Publishing Company
(Original Text in Persian, 2000)
Translated by Mohammad Karimi

The Sun Still Shines
We passed through the big gate of barracks and entered a big yard. The guard guided me beside a wall and told me: “Stand right here.” Then he called some soldiers and told them: “He should stand there and not move and if he moved, hit him by stock or bayonet. He stands here until I get back.” The soldiers frightened of the sentences by that agent, looked at me worriedly. It seemed they were guarding a dangerous killer.
I could not believe my eyes when I felt the warmness of sunshine on my body. I had been in darkness for a long time and my eyes were not familiar with all that light and they began weeping. With all those injuries on my body and being sleepless for a long time, that fresh air and light were just like a miracle for me. I felt that I was on the clouds flying in the sky. I even heard the sound of springs and birds in my dreams. I was feeling these emotions that I fall asleep. Somebody shook me and made wake up. I took a deep frightened breath. At first I thought the guard who was with me had returned. But he was one of those soldiers and told me: “Sir, lean back on the wall.” I slowly moved back and leant back on the wall. Such a sweet and unforgettable moment it was! I felt that I was in paradise. I was feeling a strange peace. I fall asleep again.
I woke up with the sound of call for prayers at noon. It was a long time that I had not heard the sweet and melodious sound of call for prayers. I told that soldier that I wanted to go to toilet and perform my ablution for prayers. He said no. I insisted and told him: “hey man, aren’t you a Muslim?! I want to say my prayers.” He said: “They’ve told me that you can’t move from here.” Another soldier stepped forward and said: “Let him free. He just wants to say his prayers.” I threatened that if they did not let me go to toilet I would make their dirty because I could not control myself any more. Their commander came and asked what had happened. I explained the matter again. He ordered one those soldiers to take me to the toilet. When I entered the toilet, I fall asleep for about 5 minutes. Suddenly I heard the knock on the door. Somebody asked: “What are you doing there? Harry up!” I opened my eyes and told him: “Ok. I’m coming out.” Then I came out fast.
The noon sunshine was so hot then. They let me to say my prayers in shadow. They showed me the direction of Kiblah. I stood for prayers…Allahu Akbar … I don’t remember exactly in which prostration of which unit of my prayers it was that I fall asleep. Moments later, a soldier came and lifted me up and told me to sit somewhere around there. I sat on a step and calmed down.
Some minutes later once again I asked for going to toilet and pretended that I had stomachache. The soldier who had seen the miserable way of my saying prayers had become kinder and took me to the toilet again. I saw a half piece of shaving blade. A thought came to my mind. I took it, washed it and put it in my pocket and then after performing my ablution came back to step that I was sitting on.
Because of my feet’s puffiness, I took off one of my shoes so hard and began twiddling it. Finally I could cut a piece of it. Then I put that piece of blade inside my shoe and formed it as what it was before. I was thinking if they began torturing me again, I would cut my hand vessel and kill myself. Most of this thought came to my mind because of firm belief in keeping Hezbollah’s secrets at any price.
It was about 3 o’clock in the afternoon that I gradually got back normal. I was half awake and half asleep that a soldier came to me and ordered: “Come on! Go and stand in your place.” So I ran fast to stand there. That soldier stood there and assumed present arms. The agent came in and found out that I passed that moments happily but he did not show that! He took my hand and pulled me inside the building and surrendered me to Sergeant Saghi, the prison’s director. Saghi called two soldiers and ordered them: “Bring the prisoner following me.”

Prisoner of Cell No. 21

They throw me inside a cell; Cell No. 21 that observed many up and downs of my imprisonment time. This row was an east to west corridor with the width of 1.5 meters and cells on both sides. When you would enter from the northern gate in the corridor, the cells on the right side (toward west) were attached one after another and there was only a narrow way in the middle. The cells on the left side had a small square in the middle with a size of 5x5 meters. Beside this square, there were some chairs for the soldiers to rest and chat with each other. Cell No. 21 like other cells had about 3x2.5 square meters area. In the back of the cell, there was a platform about one meter high made of baked clay. On the wall beside that platform, there was a whole about 20x20 centimeters. The walls were so thick; of course. This whole was so necessary for the fresh air and light inside the cell. In later days, I would look out from this whole outside and watch the guards’ and soldiers’ coming and going.
The cell’s door would open toward the corridor and there was a hatchway on that door which would be opened or closed by a piece of hanging wood. Occasionally the guards would open that hatchway and check inside. I also would move that wood by finger sometimes and watch the corridors coming and going.
When I settled there in that cell I felt a relief. I guessed there would be no more slaps on the face and kicks in the stomach and slashes on my back. It took some minutes for me to be sure of my stability there. I moved with lot of hardship toward that platform and sat on the blanket there. Then I rolled on it. I don’t remember anything more.
I woke up by the shout of the guard. I saw there were two dishes of food behind the door. It seemed when the guard had come and seen that I had not eat the first dish of food, he had thought that I was dead and then would come inside the cell and call me worriedly.
Despite being in a new condition I was still thinking of the scenes of Surgery Room. The torture scenes were quite bright in front of my eyes. It took some minutes for me to come out of those dreams and find myself. Then I moved toward the dish of food. But I could not eat because of soreness of my throat and intestine. I had a feeling of repugnance about food. The second dish was soup. I tasted it. It was still warm. I put some spoons of that soup in my mouth and gargled the soup water and could open my throat for eating. I had a bad feeling; I was actually moribund. I forced myself to eat unwillingly.
I was relaxed for a few days. There were no more tortures. On day, by the order of Saghi, they came and ordered me to go with them. I got so worried. I said to myself: “Oh Lord! They want to interrogate me again, have a merci on me.” We came out of the 2nd row and entered the yard. I looked at the watchtowers; the prison was surrounded by 7meter tall walls. There was high platform in the yard. Since I could not walk easily, the soldiers helped me walking toward that platform. They sat me there and ordered me not to move.
I saw that Saghi was coming toward me and two women were following him. When they get closer, I could not believe my eyes; they were my mum and sister. I looked at them surprisingly openmouthed. I couldn’t move because that shocking view.
Saghi told my mother with a full Turkic accent: “This Ahmad,… Ahmad, A… your son.” Then he called a soldier and told him: “Be careful! He should not talk too much ...” Then he left. I was still shocked and looking at my mum and sister. My mum with tears on her face asked: “Ahmad! What has happened to you, my dear son?” I said: “Nothing Mum!” She said: “We all are worried about you; your palls and classmates; they all come and ask about you.” When I heard it, I got so upset and told my mum: “If they came again, tell them: ‘Shame on you! You do not know the basic needs for the fight! Don’t you know that our house is under watch and they may recognize you…?’”
Knowing my friends would go to our house without being careful about security matters. I was being tortured to death not to reveal any name or sign of them and then they were going to our house that much carelessly.
I could the worries in my mum and sister’s eyes. My mum had many secrets on her heart to say, but she could not. Her tears and breaths would show that. She was worried if that prison was my last resort in this world. I found out the she was facing a world of ambiguities.
After talking to my sister I found out that my brother had tries hard to know something about my destiny and my mum and sister had written letters to the head of Army Prosecution Administration and asked for a meeting with me. (Document No. 6)

At last they had found the way in visiting Saghi. Saghi who was a Turk himself, when being aware of my mum’s Turkic accent, criticizes her because her child treatment and finally he would let them meet me because ethnic sympathies. (1)
This meeting made free of worries about the little notebook in my shirt’s pocket. In the early days of my arrest, Ali Reza Sepassi would go our house to check the situation. My mum would show her worries. Ali Reza would ask about the reason. My mum would tell him that I had changed his shirt and fogot to take money. Ali Reza would say bring him that shirt. Then he would find that notebook and take it to other palls and tell them not to be worried and I had not taken the notebook with me and I would resist the tortures. (2)
That unforgettable day passed and I became familiar with the conditions there. My family would send money from then on. Of course, before that, the other old prisoners would drop some money inside my cell through that hatchway on the door. I would also do the same and drop part of my money inside other cells. With that money we would buy whatever we needed via a sergeant.
Making contacts with other prisoners was so hard or impassible at all with all those solitary confinements. However, we would do our best. We could make these contacts when going to toilet or interrogation and passing other cells. When the guard beside us was about some meters far away, we would ask about the name and the verdicts of the other prisoners inside the cells.
I passed about 8 months in Cell No. 21 this way. The conditions were quite boring and most of the time we were sleeping or eating. I would pass most of my time by reading Koran and other worships that I knew by my heart. During this period they brought and took different prisoners to my cell whom each has his own story.

1- Qezel Qal’eh Prison director was a skilled army sergeant named Saghi. He would speak with full Turkic accent and was so famous among political prisoners. He was apparently calm and indifferent about the prisoners. He would care about the suitableness of the conditions and facilities inside the prison and was against hard and harsh behaviors toward the prisoners. The prisoner would satirically call Qezel Qal’eh Prison as “Hotel Saghi” in comparison with the hell of “Evin Prison” under the direction of Sergeant Husseini. (see: Memoirs of Javad Mansouri)
“… later, when Qezel Qal’eh was closed and its staff was transferred to Evin –which was newly built- Saghi became one of the administrative staff. He did not ever take part in hitting the prisoners. People say, one day he hits a young man and then goes home and sees that his son has a bad fever. Then he decides not to do such an action and joins the administrative staff. Saghi would help prisoners at the time of directing the prison either. If a family coming from a far distance and wanted to meet their prisoner, he would arrange the meeting for them by himself. He hated the prisoners who show weakness and would tell them: “When you don’t have balls, why you go for political activities...?!” (see: Safar Khan Memoirs)
2- Mr. Javad Mansouri says in his memoirs: “In May 1971, one of Hezbollah members, named Saeed Fateh, was arrested after returning from a guerrilla training course in Palestine and Lebanon. He was tortured and by his confessions some documents discovered and then Mr. Ahmad Ahmad was also arrested. However the resistance of Mr. Ahmad Ahmad against confession during the interrogations except some unimportant points, Hezbollah Group remained safe from any harm. However, his arrest, made us more cautious about security matters and more secret.”