Night raid and brutal arrest

Translated by: M.B. Khoshnevisan

2024-11-11


The night when I read the leaflet [18th of Azar 1357 – December 9, 1978], was finished safely and I came to the house of my brother and slept. The son of my brother had also slept beside me. At that time, he hadn’t become a clergy yet and was an active young man. It was almost 3am.

Of course, I was staying in the house of my brother in Mianeh at nights and had and have no house there. Next to the room where I had been sleeping, my mother had also been sleeping. Suddenly, I saw that the door of the room where I was sleeping was opened with pressure and a light like the light of a Peykan car or something like that entered the room. I said what it is? Instead of saying: Who is it? I said what? Considering that, for example, a car entered at the same moment. I saw someone saying: It is him! He said: He is himself! I realized that the officers had come to arrest me. God! I don't know if I should say it now or not? Anyway, just like I'm sitting here right now and I don't feel any signs of panic, I turned back normally and went to my clothes to put them on, but the officers arrived and took my clothes, which was my Qaba [long garment open in front worn by men]. They wrapped and blindfolded me with it, and one of them hit me several times with the butt of the gun in his hand; but when it approached my head, it was as if he hit me with caution. Also, a bunch of the same Imam's leaflet (Blood has won over the sword) was in the pocket of my Qaba. I had reproduced them to send to villages and other places. Then they grabbed and dragged us. I also spoke quietly so that my mother wouldn't hear or get scared, because it was three a.m. and everyone was asleep, but no one woke up.

My nephew, Mr. Sheikh Mahmoud Ahmadi, was also sleeping in the same room and next to me, and he was also a suspect. That is, they were also looking for him, but he had his head under the quilt so that they did not know that he was there.

They took me out of the room and did not let me put on my shoes. I said slowly: Why are you pulling me? Let me put on my shoes. He said: pull him. They pulled me with a shirt and a jacket that I was wearing. It was just like trying to pull a sack. They almost took me like this for a long distance until we reached the end of the street. There, they pushed me into the car like a sack. I told them: I will get in myself, why are you bothering me? They put me in the car and covered my mouth. I said: Don't cover my mouth, I don't shout. Anyway, I sat down and the car started moving. I didn't understand where they were taking me, but I was saying in my heart: They are taking me to Tehran and not to Tabriz. Of course, it didn't matter where I was taken, but I remembered that the regime agents were usually violent in Azerbaijan, but if I was taken to Tehran, maybe this violence would be a little less.

Anyway, they stopped the car somewhere and took me out of the car and put me in a personnel carrier. They put me in the middle of the car while my hands were tied behind my back so that I would have no support when the car was shaking. Suddenly, I realized that another person was being brought in while moaning. I understood that he was Mr. Hojaji, our dear friend. They brought him with pressure and put him in the middle of the car. Mr. Hajji was constantly sighing and moaning because he had resisted and this resistance had caused him to be beaten and his head broken. On the other hand, his wife and child were upset with the news; But I had made myself comfortable, because I had not resisted being beaten. Anyway, he sat down. The weather was cold. We did not understand where they were taking us. After a while, the car stopped. One of the soldiers, who had felt sorry for us, brought a blanket and wrapped us in it so that we wouldn't get cold. When we arrived near Tabriz - of course, we found out later that it was near Tabriz - I guessed that it was morning. For this reason, out of caution, while I was sitting, I prayed without ablution.

Finally, they brought us to the Gendarmerie of Tabriz. Then they opened our eyes. God knows. I still can't forget the harsh faces I saw in the gendarmes. They prevented us from going to the bathroom, performing ablution and praying. They put us in a room with opium and gun smugglers and put us in a corner. A young officer came and started insulting us and then said: If they hand you over to me, I will do such and such to you. I didn't say anything. In the end, he pulled some of my beard and cut it. We sat for a while. He left and another young man - may God protect him - came in. At first, he turned to the smugglers and started talking to them. Then he turned to us and said: Sir! Where did they bring you from? We said: They brought us from Mianeh. Then he took the address and phone number of the late Mr. Ghazi from us and left. After some time, he came back and said quietly and secretly: I have told Mr. Qazi that they have arrested you. Of course, the smugglers saw him talking. He said, "They don't take you to prison, they take you to the military governorate. You just say: there is a misunderstanding. We didn't say anything." The young officer taught us this and left. After he left, they brought us some food and we ate some. Then we were ceremoniously put on a gendarmerie pick-up and surrounded by machine guns. Then they took us to the military governor, naked, with bare heads and bare feet. But they did not accept us. The weather in Tabriz was getting colder in those days. Finally, one of them said: "After all, they are cold! Let them come in". Finally, they took us in a room and made us sit down. We sat there without shoes or clothes.

Mr. Hojaji started talking. I didn't say anything. There was a soldier who I understood was our fellow citizen. He brought us some food to eat, but we had already eaten. We said: "We want to talk to General Officer Bidabadi." They said: "There is no problem." General Bidabadi was the head of the military governorate of Tabriz and after the revolution, he was executed. After a while, they told us: "Mr. general came." We were brought into the general’s room with the same appearance. Colonels and rank-and-file officers were sitting around the room. As soon as the general saw us, he got up. At that time, it was their custom to solute in the city police and gendarmerie. When general Bidabadi saw us, he said: Oh God, curse them." He constantly began to practice saying: "Why did they do this? We took some people from Tabriz and respected them, we sent so and so. Why have they behaved like this?

In short, Mr. Hojaji talked to them and said some things. I just said this sentence: "Well, if they arrested us, was this arrest for the benefit of the regime or against the regime?" The general said: "Sir, I said that they did not understand. You pardon with your magnanimity and...) Finally, he saw that we were in a very awkward situation, so he ordered: "Bring shoes for the gentlemen." We said, "No, we don't need shoes."

Meanwhile, the phone rang. He was the Friday prayer leader of Mianeh, and as I said before, he was with us a lot during the revolution. the Friday prayer leader of Mianeh had called Tabriz and told the late Mr. Qazi [Ayatollah Seyyed Mohammad Qazi Tabatabai] and General Officer Shafeqat, the Governor of Tabriz, and he had greatly exaggerated the issue that: "So and so happened, the city was in chaos and"... Ironically, another person had contacted one of the most important merchants of Tabriz. The phone rang again. Mr. Bidabadi picked up the phone. We saw that he was the same businessman. In response to Mr. businessman's question, the general said: "Yes. Yes, the gentlemen are here. I check now to see what happened".

Because Mr. Hojaji's head was broken and it was dragged on my clothes, my Qaba were bloody. Meanwhile, they saw the leaflets and asked Mr. Hojaji: "Whose leaflet is this?" I said, “It’s mine”, so that Mr. Hojaji wouldn't get caught.

On the other hand, the soldier who had brought us was waiting to get a receipt and leave. In the meantime, the late Mr. Ghazi called. In response to the Ghazi, the general said: "Yes. The gentlemen are here. I am at their service. I will look into the matter now."

As soon as the general put down the phone, Shafeqat called. Shafeqat had said: "Return the gentlemen to Mianeh quicky and apologize to them on my behalf. What did they do? And..." In short, they saw that everything had changed. That poor soldier also left and took the leaflets with him. Then the general went and ordered to bring us shoes. We said: "We don't want shoes. We have clothes. If we are going to be freed, we have our own clothes." He said: "It is not possible. You have to wear clothes." Then he ordered: "Go and prepare a bath for the men to take a bath." Of course, the reason we went to the bathroom was to wash some of the traces of Mr. Hojaji's beating. In short, we were taken to the officers' rest house. We washed ourselves there and they brought a doctor for Mr. Hojaji to dress his head’s wound. We ate something there; I don't remember if it was breakfast or lunch. Anyway, after eating, one of the officers took us to Mr. Qazi's house by a car and handed us over. We entered and saw that one of the well-known clerics of Qom was talking on the phone with the late Mr. Rabbani in the house of the late Mr. Ghazi. As soon as he saw me, he said to the late Mr. Rabbani: Mr. Rabbani, tell Mr. Shariatmadari that they have welcomed Ahmadi. And of course, he meant that I was beaten. Anyway, I sat in a corner of the room and then Mr. Ghazi came to us and then went to bring us Labbadeh [long outer garment for men], Qaba and robes. The late Ghazi said: We will not take these clothes back. I give them to you. He brought a robe for me and a Labbadeh for Mr. Hojaji. Meanwhile, it was at the same time that I realized that my ribs had become defective and I could no longer sit. It was very difficult for me to sit. Then we called to bring us clothes from Mianeh.

The night when I was arrested, my third son, Reza was also in Mianeh. He is now in the navy. He had entered the Mianeh. That well-known cleric in Qom whom I said was in the house of Mr. Ghazi, had brought leaflets with him. The leaflets had been placed inside large flasks of water, so that if anyone saw them, they would say that they contained water and ice.

On the same night of my arrest, they brought the Imam's leaflets by any possible means. When they wanted to send leaflets from Tehran to the city, they embedded them inside the goods, fabrics and the like and passed immediately.

 

Source: Memoirs of Ayatollah Ahmadi Mianji, compiled by Abdolrahim Abazari, Tehran, Islamic Revolution Document Centre, 1380 (2001), pp. 279-285. 

 



 
Number of Visits: 149


Comments

 
Full Name:
Email:
Comment:
 

Destiny Had It So

Memoirs of Seyyed Nouraddin Afi
It was early October 1982, just two or three days before the commencement of the operation. A few of the lads, including Karim and Mahmoud Sattari—the two brothers—as well as my own brother Seyyed Sadegh, came over and said, "Come on, let's head towards the water." It was the first days of autumn, and the air was beginning to cool, but I didn’t decline their invitation and set off with them.
Oral History School – 7

The interviewer is the best compiler

According to Oral History Website, Dr. Morteza Rasoulipour in the framework of four online sessions described the topic “Compilation in Oral History” in the second half of the month of Mordad (August 2024). It has been organized by the Iranian History Association. In continuation, a selection of the teaching will be retold:
An Excerpt from the Narratives of Andimeshk Women on Washing Clothes During the Sacred Defense

The Last Day of Summer, 1980

We had livestock. We would move between summer and winter pastures. I was alone in managing everything: tending to the herd and overseeing my children’s education. I purchased a house in the city for the children and hired a shepherd to watch over the animals, bringing them near the Karkheh River. Alongside other herders, we pitched tents.

Memoirs of Commander Mohammad Jafar Asadi about Ayatollah Madani

As I previously mentioned, alongside Mehdi, as a revolutionary young man, there was also a cleric in Nurabad, a Sayyid, whose identity we had to approach with caution, following the group’s security protocols, to ascertain who he truly was. We assigned Hajj Mousa Rezazadeh, a local shopkeeper in Nurabad, who had already cooperated with us, ...