Ahmad Ahmad Memoirs (44)

Edited by Mohsen Kazemi

Ahmad Ahmad Memoirs (44)
Edited by Mohsen Kazemi
Soureh Mehr Publishing Company
(Original Text in Persian, 2000)
Translated by Mohammad Karimi

On the third day, the cell’s gate was open and then a tall strong young man was thrown in. His face was so worried. It seemed that it was the first time that he was experiencing such a place. After few moments he began talking and said that he was a javelin throwing champion and did not know what the reason was for his arrest. Unfortunately his interrogator was someone whose name was “Danesh”. He was a bad tempered wretched man who would harass his prisoners a lot. The next day, they took the champion for interrogation. Danesh used Apollo for torturing him and he did it so savagely. That afternoon when I was resting on the ground of my cell, suddenly I saw two bloody feet through the opening on the bottom of the door of my cell. I stood up. The door penned and they threw the champion in. He could not stand on his feet and fell down so hard by his head and chest. His feet were bloody and infected. I got closer to him and put his head on my lap and turned his face to my face. I saw that he was dying. He would croak when breathing. I found out that blood had closed his windpipe. I opened his throat by a spoon and took out the blood and infections in his mouth. Then he could make big breath and then fainted. I moved him with the help of other person in the cell. Then I cleaned his face and hands of blood and covered him with the blanket. I massaged his feet for some minutes. I felt that he could get a bit of life. (1)
I continued nursing him. During the next days I would pour soup or some liquids into his throat. For three days he was not able to move at all and would urinate right there. Form the fourth day I would take his arms to help him walk and go to toilet. By this kind of nursing he gradually got better during the next days. During the days of nursing him I was also interrogated several times. Once when I entered the interrogation room, I saw a 16/17-year-old boy lying naked on the ground and they were slashing his testicles by a piece of cable. His heartrending loud shouts would shiver the body of any human being. Watching that scene was so painful and killing and ruined my nerves. They let him be for some seconds but he was still crying painfully.
The interrogator asked me: “Name?” I said: “Ahmad Ahmad”. Right then that boy stopped crying and turned to look at me. When they began beating him again, he would shout: “… I swear to God that I haven’t done anything. I don’t know them… I did something childishly. Neither Haj Mehdi nor my father, Lahouti… were aware of this matter.” Hearing the name of him, I was shocked. That boy was telling me something by his shouts. I found out he was Vahid Lahouti (2) and the matter of pursuing and arresting Haj Mahdi was quite real. I got happy of hearing he had not been arrested till that time.
The interrogator continued his question from me. He wanted to know where my brother had been hiding. But I really did not know where he was. I told them: “My brother is not stupid. He knows that you are seeking him. He would not stay somewhere to be arrested. Despite being a political activist, but my way is different from him.
Sometimes, the interrogations were done in midnights and Manouchehri, the famous thug of committee, using rude words and uncouth behavior would try to break the pride and personality of prisoners in order to make them surrender. They would broadcast horrible recorded harsh sounds and cries of tortured people from the other neighboring rooms again and again at the time of interrogation.
One night, Manouchehri and two other torturers took me to our house near Lashkar Crossroads. It seemed there was nobody at our house except my father and nephew. When my father opened the door, he was shocked of seeing me and the agents. They asked him to tell them my brother’s hiding place in order to free me. My father told them: “This boy is just married. Let him be free for the God’s sake. Take me instead. What the hell you want from him?” The agents insisted a lot on getting any information from my father about my brother’s hiding place, but useless. My father persistently said: “I swear to God that I do not know where he is.” Suddenly, one of the savage wicked agents who had tied his left hand to my right hand, asked Manouchehri: “Doctor! Do you let me? I make him confess right now.” And then Manouchehri said yes by his head. That savage agent put his gun on my temple and said to my father: “Hey, old man! Do you tell where your son is or I kill this one…!” My poor father who did not expect to see such a scene was shocked and out of breath. His mouth and other body parts began shivering. He would shockingly repeat with a shivering voice: “No, No, I won’t say… I do not know where he is… No, No…” For a father it was something intolerable to see his son’s death. My father could notstand any more on his feet. He was falling down that I took him with my left hand. I said: “Dear Dad! Daddy! Who the hell are they to shoot me?! They don’t dare to …” I was really angry of their action and shouted on them: “Ok! Shoot it! Shoot and let me die! What the mischief you do to this old poor man….” When Manouchehri saw my reaction full of anger toward that agent, told him to move away his hand. And he did. It took some minutes for my father to get better. But his hands and mouth still had trembles. He kept this trembling until his death.

1- Four years after the first print of this book, the identity of this sportsman revealed. He, who had been in search of his savor for 31 years, found him by reading this book of memoirs. He was eagerly happy and enthusiastic when looking for Ahmad and finally found him.
Dr. Younes Mohammadi was born in 1946 in Qasr-e Shirin. After getting high school diploma, he immigrated to Tehran and began studying athletics in Tehran Teacher’s College. At the same time he began studying journalism in Communication Sciences Faculty.
He became the national teenagers’ javelin throwing champion and later champion of universities in this field. He was a member of national team for some time. In 1970 he was graduated and went to military service. In this period, once again he became the champion of World Armies. In 1973 when he was the director of Roodaki Hall, was arrested and sentenced to one year in prison.
After freedom he worked for some time in Humanities Research Center and UNESCO. He married Ms. Sharifzadeh, and architecture graduated lady who was also a fencing champion. Along with his wife he immigrated to Belgium 1980 and continued his studies in Brussels University and received his PhD in urbanization. In 1995 he returned back to Iran and began teaching in Sharif University.
My crime was reading books. I was not a political or military activist. I was not a member of any group from the very early beginning up to now. I just read books. At that time I had read all the prominent books in literature and politics.
I used to go to Social Sciences Study Center at Tehran University and had read many books there. There I visited Mostafa Sho’a’iyan two or three times and got acquainted with him. I was about to research on a subject and consulted him. He suggested me to study on White Revolution Agricultural Corporations. I looked for the materials and read many reports. Our relation was cut and I did not visit Sho’a’iyan any more until one day that I saw him when mountain climbing. We chatted for an hour and he told me that he was researching on a historical thesis about Jangal Movement. I took his raw materials for his research to read. At that time I was not much aware of the status of political fights of Sho’a’iyan. Yousef, my brother who was leftist also read those papers. After some time his group was revealed and arrested. The agents found those papers as well. Later I was revealed in interrogations and arrested as the owner of those papers. It was my crime.
The interrogator would not believe that somebody who had read that much papers and books was an ordinary person. So they used horrible tortures against me.
They took me under Apollo. They connected the electric wires to my sensitive organs and gave me electric shocks. When they were slashing me I would cry so loud in a way that my jaws would lock. At the same time I felt my mouth tasted like soil and stone. Later I found out it was the taste of iron in blood. I had cut my tongue with my teeth and blood clots had gone to my throat. In such conditions I had been fainted.
When I opened my eyes I found Ahmad as angle over my head. At that time his face was so beautiful and calming that you may not imagine. I saw a deep humane feeling in his face. When woke up I found out he had taken out the clots from my throat and let me breathe. Despite the possibility of getting punished for nursing a tortured person, he would generously nurse me and help me to go to toilet. I owe him my life to this man of God. His face would never wipe out from my heart. After freedom I got back to my life and was in abroad for long time. All these thirty years I was thinking if Ahmad had been killed in fights or tortures or not. When I read his memoirs I could not believe that he was still alive. My heart started to beat and I could not get calm until I found him. The moment that I saw him and hugged him and cried is indescribable.

2- Vahid Lahouti, son of Hojjat-ul-Eslam Hassan Lahouti Eshkevari, was arrested for attacking a policeman in Qum for disarming him. He introduced Mahdi Ahmad as his operation leader.

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