Ahmad Ahmad Memoirs (35)

Edited by Mohsen Kazemi

Ahmad Ahmad Memoirs (35)
Edited by Mohsen Kazemi
Soureh Mehr Publishing Company
(Original Text in Persian, 2000)
Translated by Mohammad Karimi

The Sounds of Cell No. 21

It was about September or October of 1971 that one night they suddenly opened my cell’s door. I woke up frightened. They threw in a tall strong young man inside and closed the door. He sat down hugging his knees and crying without paying any attention to me.
I looked at him for some minutes. Then I came down from the platform and soothed him. I told him: “Stand up and sit on the platform.” He said that he could not. I helped him by taking his arm for sitting on the platform. It was clear that he had been tortured and beaten badly. His arms and legs were trembling. I held his leg and moved it. He shouted of pain. I covered him with the blanket. He went asleep of tiredness after so much cries of pain.
The next day when he was a bit better and had finished his crying, I asked him: “what have you done that they have done this to you?” He said: “Nothing! I only have broken some insulators. I mean we would go to the streets along with some of my friends and throw stones to insulators on power cables to break them. They chased and arrested us.” I was surprised of hearing this. I could not believe that they had beaten and tortured somebody that much hard just for breaking insulators and then bring him to political prison. I continued my dialogue with him and found out he was one of The Iranian People's Fedai Guerrillas who sabotaged in a power plant.
After breakfast I asked the guard to give me a tub of water and then I poured some salt in it. I put his feet in that tub and massaged. I saw calmness in his face. He was a 20 years old young man. Gradually he trusted me and feeling closeness with he began talking to me. I found him so inexperienced. I advised him to be careful. I told him: “Here, you cannot trust anyone; he may highly possibly be an agent.” I asked him not to confide with others easily.
He would feel happy and calm after being massaged. He could stand on his feet. Few days later, when he was ok then, group of agents came to the cell door and asked him some questions. He answered them while standing. When they saw he was ok called him after some hours. He worriedly asked me: “What should I do now? They are taking me again … what I have to do?” I tried to calm him down and soothe him. I advised him: “Shout as much as loud that you could if tortured you. Shout loudest you can. Then began crying so hard and if you even call your mum it is ok! It is so good.” He asked what for. I told him: “This way, they may thing that you are only a kid depended on his mum. This way you can also abate your pain and also disturb their minds and nerves.”
It was so interesting that just after being taken out of the cell, he began crying and calling his mum: “I need my Mum! ...Oh Mummy! Mummy!” His childish behavior was so interesting to me. He was a good obedient boy and did exactly what I had advised him (as he said himself). They took him out and brought back several times. He could make the interrogators and torturers disappointed and tired. They said that he was a crybaby. They could not find any particular information out of him. When he was going to be interrogated and tortured for the several times, I told him this time if they wanted to beat and slash you, began running and escaping and let them think that you are a kid! And do not understand. His interrogators had been tired of his “Mom…, Mom…!” shouts. They would tell him: “Shame on you! What do you mean by calling your Mom!?... You’ve been arrested for political reasons….”
About a fortnight later, they took him out my cell. He was still frightened and worried. I told him: “This time you would be freed.” And he went and never came back again to Cell No. 21. His presence in my cell was another experience and helped me to change my days.
Sometime later, they brought another young man to my cell. Despite the previous one, he would not cry or something. He would pretend to be tortured and there was no sign of torture or pain seen on his body. I became suspicious to him from the very early moments. I guessed he would as least report my deeds and words. I became determined to be careful in my contacts with him. He claimed to be a Baha’i student in abroad that had been arrested while photographing Gowd-e Zanboorak-khaneh quarter near Shoush Square. It was interesting that he was complaining why they had forced him to stand on one foot and two hands up for an hour. He said: “They are damned killers! They also gave a chair to hold in the air and did not let to change my feet.” I saw that he was so weak. Knowing that he was an impure Baha’i and I had to live beside him made me so upset. However, I could do nothing and had to wait. After some days they took him out of my cell either. He could not understand anything important out of me.
One night about 2 AM I heard the shout of “Ya Ali! (Oh, Ali!)” from the corridor. The sound of these shouts and breaths of the shouter was getting closer and closer. Finally the cell’s door was open. They threw in a man. He was an old poorly weak man. He had been beaten and his legs were swollen and bruised. I looked carefully at his face and found him familiar. I thought and remembered that he was the schoolmaster of Bamdad High School in Shah Abad Street (Jomhouri) that had changed in to a dervish. I called him by name. He looked at me surprisingly and asked: “Do you know me?!” I said: “Yes! I studied for a short time in Bamdad High School and you were the schoolmaster there.” Then I addressed some other people in that school. He understood whom he was talking to and was relaxed. I asked him: “Why you’ve been arrested?” He said: “They have arrested me as a member of diploma forgery band. But I am not a guilty. I was not aware of anything. I felt a pity for them and did something to help them. They brought two or three miserable people to me who needed diploma. I passed their names as accepted students to get diplomas to help them for their lie. I just helped them and received no money.” Diploma forgery at that time had changed to a big and hot problem that had made the government to use SVAK for arresting and interrogating the people who may forge diplomas. SAVAK had tortured them so severely.
When he trusted me, he began telling me some of forgery operations. During the days of his residence in Cell No. 21 he narrated many of his old recollections about the regimes corruption during Reza Shah Era and his son and in the court. It was a good chance for me to have a roommate and companion for conversation.
During later days an old sergeant named Anousheh became the companion of that old man. They became friends gradually. Dervish’s catchword was “Ya Ali”. One day Anousheh talked about the miserable financial situation of a prisoner. Suddenly the old man asked me to give him some money from the money that I had under the rug. I found out that he was aware of what I do. I gave him 20 Tomans to Anousheh with no question. Then Anousheh informed the prison officials that Ahmad Ahmad was helping other prisoners. So, they called and interrogated me. After two weeks they took out this old dervish from that cell.