Tag Archives: Letters

LETTER FROM A TRANSSEXUAL IRANIAN MAN.

The UNHCR office in Ankara, Turkey

Name and surname of refugee: Mehtap Mirgadiri

UNCHR Ankara file no : 07C2252
Re: MY OBJECTION TO MY ASYLUM REFUSAL

Dear  Authorities ,
My name is Seyedeh Mahtab Mirghaderi. I left Iran 3 years ago because of the conditions which risked my life. When I came to Turkey I applied to the UNHCR in Ankara, with the request of to be recognized as a refugee.

I am a transsexual and everybody knows how the transsexuals are treated in Iran. I was born in a conservative and very radical family. I experienced pain on daily basis and had many difficulties. My family did not accept my girlish behaviors. I was punished in many different ways; humiliating, beating, swearing, insulting, or giving me no food. When I remember those days that I was suffering from my family members, I still feel the impact of their cruel behaviors.
 

When I became an adult, I learned that killing someone like me regarded as a duty in that conservative and radical society. I lived in that society and I was exposed to torture, oppression and violence everyday. I was beaten many times, despised always and tortured couple of times. I was considered against the Islamic doctrines thus regarded as immoral and dishonor in the Islamic society.

I thought if have an operation to change my gender then my life could be easier in a female body. But it did not happen as I was thinking. Especially, my family threatened me to kill. They could not tolerate their son to be a female. What I am telling you here is not a joke or exaggeration. A friend of mine, who is also transsexual, was poisoned by her family. They did not accept their son to be a female. I had to leave my family in order not to be killed. I had a surgical operation in a place that there were no the hygiene and with the minimum operational equipment. I had to have that operation because I had not good financial situation and I had no other support.

There was no one that I could stay with. I became a female after struggling for years and changed my gender into female on my identity card. I was in the middle of no where; I had neither family nor a shelter to stay. I spent all my days about what to do: my family wanted to kill me if they knew where I was staying, fundamental radical society was not better than my family, actually worse then them, they were ready to beat me, torture me and kill me and I had no shelter to stay. I was a victim as a transsexual and I even accepted some immoral proposals in order to eat some food and spent the night under a roof. When irregular armed forces and policemen saw me alone they also abused me. Neither my family nor any institution protected me. Despite all these problems a man liked me and I liked him too. After his family learned that I am a transsexual they threatened to kill me. They wanted me to leave their son alone. But, we wanted to be together. Since we were not able to live under those conditions in Iran, we left from Iran and came to Turkey. We did not have any other choice.

My life was in great danger because of; my husband’s family, my family, policemen, the conservative and radical society, the civil militias, and the irregular armed forces. There was a man who liked me and wanted to be with me, but because of me, his life was also in great danger in Iran. I had to leave my country even though I did not want leave. I applied to the UNHCR office with the hope that I would be recognized as a refugee in the near future. At the first interview I was the only one who was questioned. I also gave information about my husband. After 8 months they wanted to have both of us for the second interview. Our lawyer who was assigned to our file left his position at the UNHCR. Eight months later when we reached the UNHCR again we were told that it was assumed that we left from Turkey to Iran. That was the reason they said that why we were not called.

We went to a new interview. For that interview I requested a female lawyer and a female translator. I also explained that the sarcastic behaviors of male lawyers and translators which put me in stress and being mocked by even one of the UNHCR lawyers were not nice. Under that kind of situation I was not able to concentrate or focus on the questions. But my request was not accepted and I had again a very bad interview experience. I was not able to answer the questions because I was not able to focus, they just confused me. And, my asylum claim was again rejected.

Eventually, we prepared an appeal letter explaining the risk that we faced in Iran and additionally we explained how the life can be very difficult for a transsexual person in Iran. We wanted our file to be reevaluated and to be accepted. Even though, we told our problems and my female lawyer had couple of tears in her eyes during the interview after hearing the cruelty that I had to endure. Unfortunately, we were again rejected.

I object to your decision as a transsexual who had to leave this country because of experiencing difficulties and the only thing I wish from the UNHCR is to answer questions by taking responsibility. Why did not UN, which accepts thousands refugees who are transsexuals like me and their life is at risk, accept me? If I go back to Iran my family and my husband’s family and radical conservative society or irregular armed force will kill me, and who will be responsible for my death? How can I cope with these forces as a transsexual without being under protection of my family?

What, I want from the UNHCR Authorities is, that my case to be reopened and processed again with my objection and giving me right of defense, saving me from difficult condition and ambiguity.

Thank you from now on for your help,
Yours sincerely
Mehtap Mirgadiri

یسریای عالی پناهندگان سازمان ملل متحد – ژنو – سوئیس

رونوشت: دفتر سازمان در آنکارا

 اینجانب مهتاب میرقادری سه سال پیش به دلیل شرایط بسیار سختی که جانم را به طور جدی در خطر قرار داده بود ایران راترک کرده و به کمیساریای عالی پناهندگان واقع در ترکیه در شهر انکارا در خواست پناهندگی ارائه نمودم.

من یک ترنسجندر هستم. امروز بر کسی پوشیده نیست و همه در اقصا نقاط جهان از وضعیت سخت  اقلیتهای جنسی در ایران مطلع هستند تا جایی که رییس دولت ایران در مقابل خبرنگاران خارجی و رسانه های بین المللی منکر وجود ما در ایران می شود. ولی مشکل اساسی افرادی مثل من ازجامعه کور و متعصب و خانواده های متعصب ایرانی شروع میشود. من که خود در یک خانواده مذهبی و متوسط ایرانی بدنیا امده ام تلخی روزهای بسیار سختی را تجربه کرده ام، خانواده ای که از دوران کودکی رفتارهای دخترانه مرا علی رغم جنسیت ظاهریم مایه شرم خود میدانست. هنوز اثرات روخی تنبیهات سخت  بدنی و لفظی که توسط برادر بزرگم و دیگر اعضای خانواده به من شده در روحم باقی است.

وقتی بزرگتر شدم و پا به عرصه اجتماع گذاشتم این افراد متعصب و مذهبی جامعه بودند که به تبع فتاوی بعضی از مراجع دینی خود من و امثال من را افرادی هوس باز دانسته و ریختن خون ما را جزو فرایض دینی خود می دانستند، تقریبا هیچ روز از زندگی گذشته را بیاد ندارم که از اذیت، ازار و تمسخر این جامعه متعصب در امان بوده باشم. بارها توسط انها تا سر حد مرگ ضرب وشتم شدم.  با رها از زبانشان تهدید یه مرگ گردیدم انها مرا لکه ننگی بر پیشانی جامعه اسلامی می دانستند.

گمان کردم با عمل تغییر جنسیت و حضور در غالبی زنانه می توانم زندگی ارامی را در پیش بگیرم. اما مشکلات صد چندان شد. اول خانواده متعصب خودم که مرا تهدید به مرگ کردند زیرا پذیرش این شرم که پسرشان دختر شود برایشان امکان پذیر نبود. این نه شوخی است و نه اقراق، من دوستی در ایران داشتم که مشکل مشابه من را داشت، خانوادهاش حاضر شدند او را مسموم کرده و بکشند که این لکه ننگ از خانواده پاک کنند.

من مجبور به ترک خانه شدم و به دلیل شرایط بد مالی در پنهان و به دور از چشم خانواده به تیغ جراحی و عملی ناقص در بدترین شرایط بهداشتی و امکانات پزشکی تن سپردم. و به تعبیری زیر تیغ جراحی پزشکی پول دوست و از خدا بی خبر سلاخی شدم و بعد هم هیچ مرجعی نبود که به دادم رسیدگی کند و نه خانواده ای که پناهم باشد. حالا ظاهرا دختر شده بودم دختری که پس از چند سالی دوندگی در انتهای شناسنامه اش تغییر جنسیتش درج شده بود. دختری که نه خانه ای داشت و نه خانواده ای و هر روز را از ترس ان شب می کرد که خانواده اش از محل اختفایش با خبر شده و جانش را بگیرند.

ترس از جامعه دینی متعصی که اگر متوجه تغییر جنسیت من میشدند هر نوع اذیت و ازار جسمی و لفظی را بر من روا می دانستند و حالا بک تغییر جنسیت داده تنها و بی خانمان بهترین طعمه بودم برای انها که انحراف اخلاقی و جنسی داشتند و من بی پناه مجبور بودم برای مسکنی یا غذایی به خواسته های غیر معقولشان تن دهم. از سوی دیکر ماموران پلیس و بسیج وقتی از وضعیتم با خبر میشدند و مرا تنها سر گردان می یافتند ضمن دستگیر کردن مورد اذیت و ازار جنسی قرارم میدادنند و هیچ قانون و خانوادهای نبود که از من دفاع کند.

در میان انبوه ناملایمات حضور پسری که به او دل پستم تنها خوشی زندگیم بود که خانواده او نیز پس از کشف ارتباط ما مرا تهدید به مرگ کردند تا زندگی پسرشان را ترک کنم. من که می خواستم در کنار او باشم و او نیز که تصمیم گرفته بود با من بماند راه چارهای نداشتیم جز ترک وطن. جان من از طرف خانواده خودم، خانواده همسرم، مرمان متعصب کشورم و نیروهای امنیتی خود سر در معرض تهدید بود و حالا پسری که با من قصد همراهی داشت او هم در خطر همه این تهدید ها بود. پس علرغم میل باطنی وطنم را ترک کردم و به امید سر پناهی به سازمان ملل پناه جستم.

پس از مصاحبه اول  که خود تنهایی در ان حضور داشتم موضوع پسر مورد علاقه و همراهم را مطرح کردم و قرار شد برای مصاحبه به اتفاق هم 8 ماه بعد دوباره در دفترکمساریای پناهندگان حاضر شویم. پس از مصاحبه مشترک به دلیل انکه وکیل پرونده مان کارش را ترک کرد بود پرونده مان بلا تکلیف ماند بعد 8 ماه ما را خواستند و ضمن عذر خواهی از بابت تاخیر 8 ماه گفتند که به ما اطلاع داده بودند شما خاک تر کیه را ترک کرده اید و ما از پیگیری مستمر خودتان فهمیدیم هنوز در خاک ترکیه هستید. و ما که دو سال را به خاطر یک گذارش غلط در بدترین شرایط مالی اجتماعی و زندگی بسر برده بودیم بالاجبار یک عذر خواهی ساده را پذیرفتیم و در مصاحبه دیگری حاضر شدیم.

علارغم در خواست من وکیل و مترجم پرونده مرد بودند که نگاههای ازار دهنده شخص مترجم و بعضا حرفهای تمسخر کننده و داوری کننده او ذهن مرا اشفته کرده بود پس از این مصاحبه و شرایط بد ان کمیساریای عالی پناهندگان با در نظر نگرفتن موضوع اصلی پرونده که وضعیت یک فرد ترنسجندر مثل من و خطراتی  که  حیات اجتماعی و جانی او را تهدید می کند فقط بدلیل پاره ای تناقضات جزئی بین گفته های من و همسرم ما را رد کردند. ما طی نامه ای با بیان کلیه ادله ای که جان من و به طبع ان همسرم را در ایران تهدید می کند و من نمی توانم بدلیل مشکلم کار، سر پناه و زندگی و حیات داشته باشم و بیان دلیل برای تناقضات خواستار استیناف در پرونده شدیم. به طبع ان پس از11 ماه برای مصاحبه دیگری در دفتر کمیساریای پناهندگان حاضر شدیم پس از ان با وجود بیان همه مشکلات نامه عدم قبولی در یافت کردیم.

اینجانب به عنوان یک ترنسجندر گریخته از وطن ضمن شکایت نسبت به تصمیم اتخاذ شذه توسط ان کمیساریا خواستارم که ان کمیساریا در مقابل جان و زندگی من به عنوان یک بشر احساس مسولیت کرده و به سوالات زیر پاسخ بدهد.

1-اگر هیچ مشکل جانی مرا تهدید نمی کند پس حضوربیش از صدها پناهنده ترنسجندر در خارج از خاک ایران که خیلی از انان از همین کمیساریا برگه پناهندگی گرفته اند چه توجیه منطقی دارد

2-اگر من به وطن باز گردم و توسط یکی از گروهای زیر یعنی خانواده خودم یا گروهای متعصب مذهبی جامعه و یا خانواده پسری که من را مسبب تخریب زندگی فرزندشان می دانند و یا نیروهای امنیتی خود سر در داخل کشور کشته شوم چه کسی پاسخ گوی خون من خواهد بود

3-در شرایط فعلی که حتی جوانان معمولی با وجود حمایت خانواده هایشان از دستگیری و تجاوز توسط نیروهای خود سر و لباس شخصی در امان نیستند چگونه جان من ترنسجندر که در اقلیت اجتماع بوده و از حمایت خانواده نیز بی بهره ام در امان خواهد بود

در پایان ضمن بیان این مطلب که جزییات مربوط به ازارها و اذیتهای وارده بر من در پرونده بنده و همسرم موجود می باشد و در صورت لزوم من امادگی ارائه جزییات بیشتری را نیز دارم. از ان مقام محترم خواستارم که ضمن پیگیری شکایت بنده ضمینه مساعد را در باز گشایی مجدد پرونده اینجانب و ارائه پاسخی منطقی و در خور فراهم اورید و مرا از این وضعیت بلا تکلیفی بی خانماننی و بی پولی در خاک ترکیه بعد از گذشت سه سال نجات داده و  با اتخاذ تصمیمی صحیح جان یک بی پناه را از نابودی حتمی نجات دهید

با تشکر

مهتاب میر قادری

 

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LETTER FROM INSIDE IRAN “WHAT DO WE DO WITH ALL THE GRAFFITI?

From Iran 17 March,

Cities around Iran try to do a bit of spring cleaning and get their cities beautified in preparation for all the No Ruz travelers this time of year. Our cities really do put on a fresh face. It’s great. However, this year we have the problem of political graffiti. What to do about that? I’ve seen where they have attempted to remove it and have given up. Only the strong stone walls seem to be able to withstand the pressure hoses. Painting over them does not eliminate them. So, many attempts have been abandoned. Recently they have tried covering up the graffiti with murals. But you can’t do that with every wall – especially private walls. And then they only get the graffiti they can see from the cars. When I went for a walk the other day I saw lots of fresh graffiti – all at angles the cops can’t see when they are on the prowl. But it is fresh and it is there and the PEOPLE are NOT erasing them!

My sig other saw graffiti on a university bathroom stall. One said nasty things about AN’s mother and the other said, “Marg bar mah ke goftim marg bar shah!” (Death to us who said death to the shah).

LETTER FROM SHIRAZ 16 MARCH 2010

March 16, 2010 Shiraz is ALIVE!!!!

This is the BEST Chaharshanbeh Soori I have ever experienced! Our city was alive tonight with the sounds of music, laughter and fireworks! And even though it is illegal now to build bonfires on the roads, people were building fires in the joobes (open drains) and in the dirt on the sidewalks and jumping over them. Our neighborhood is still partying and it’s WAY past midnight. Girls and guys are dancing and mingling. The impromptu fireworks displays are beautiful!

Our evening started at 7 pm when the kids, hubs and I went out to our apartment complex field and started the fires and fireworks. All the complex kids followed us with their goodies and the evening festivities began! We had strict rules – no throwing firecrackers under peoples’ feet. We also had a first aid kit and a fire extinguisher handy. Everyone had fun. Lots of people joined us and we had an awesome display. Other people in the neighborhood had their own festivities. People were setting off fireworks from their roofs and balconies. From the hills we could see the city of Shiraz below. The fireworks lighting the sky were brilliant! Sounds of firecrackers and music came from all over the city.

At 9 pm we bid adieu and headed for a party we were invited to. The people in our complex were just warming up!  We drove all the way to X. Along the way we saw fire engines at the ready and plenty of security forces. But the robocops did not seem to be out – at least in our area. Fireworks were going off all around the security personnel. They just stood there – and laughed at particularly loud ones!

We reached the garden where we were invited and spent an evening with friends eating and drinking and jumping over yet more fires (and lighting even more fireworks). It was relaxing and enjoyable and great fun. People of every age were there. On the way to and from the party we saw many people celebrating on the sides of the roads. And some of the young people were sitting on their car doors as they drove down X, dancing to music along the way. Tonight, the people of Shiraz were having a GREAT time, despite all the warnings! It’s past 1 am and the neighborhood disco is still going! I am turning out the lights for now to sweet dreams.

WORKING CLASS AND FEMALE IN IRAN

by Setareh Sabety

To mark international women’s day I decided I should write about three Iranian women whom I came to know well when living in Iran just before Ahmadinejad’s first term. The three of them worked for me as housekeepers/babysitters and my knowledge of their lives is limited to our employer/employee relationship and class differences. But we spent a lot of time together and often our talks and interactions were more intimate than those I had with women I knew socially. For whatever it is worth I thought that I should expose the lives of three very ordinary Iranian women from different backgrounds and different sensibilities. This is for them.

Shahin khanoom was a portly and feisty woman in her forties who loved to eat and talk. She lived in Karaj with her husband and two children. Her husband who used to be employed in a factory was now too old and sick to work. Shahin khanoom was a good cook and experienced housekeeper. She was literate and looked forward to her Koran classes. She wore a black chador which was always dirty, was an active member of her mosque and was devoted to the Mahdi whom she swore to every other sentence. Shahin khanoom was not overly devout, at least around us, never really proselytizing and more concerned about making a living than the nuances of Shiite Islam. She was very friendly and managed to charm any guest in our house into giving her a good tip. Shahin khanoom knew everyone in our neighborhood of high rise apartments and was the one everyone came to when looking for help. She found jobs for many of her friends and relatives. She feigned love for my children the way only Iranian nannies do with shameless conspicuousness that may be partially fake but is comforting nonetheless.

Shahin khanoom came to me in tears one day. Her daughter had just finished her high school and was taking English and a computer literacy course. She had found a good suitor, a rich boy from the neighborhood but did not have enough money for a dowry and could not possibly agree to the match for fear of losing face that the lack of a proper dowry would surely cause. So, I set out to collect money from friends and family to add to my own contribution and gave it to her. She told me she would buy a fridge and other household musts for her beloved daughter. I told her I would love to attend the ceremony. She promised to invite us all, to the delight of my own eight year old daughter.

When several weeks passed, I asked Shahin khanoom about her daughter’s wedding plans and was told that the suitor had reneged. I was very upset for the poor girl and assured Shahin khanoom that another prospective husbabd would soon surface. A few days later her daughter came to pick her up and I ran into her in the lobby and noticed that she had had a nose job! I soon realized that the dowry money was really meant to be used for a nose job. I was going to bring it up to let her know that I had discovered her lie but decided not to when the next day Shahin khanoom came to me crying. Her husband had become angry when she, coming home from work, had cooked a dish that he hated and her son loved. He had thrown the dish at her and hit their son before storming off. Whether or not the story was meant to deter my anger at her or not I decided to comfort her and forgive her the lie about the dowry. A nose job, after all, was fast becoming as important prerequisite for marriage as a dowry in Iran.

Shahin achieved her dream of opening a hairdressing salon after two years of working for us. Only to close the salon just six months later because she was losing money. When she left to open her salon Shahin khanoom introduced her sister in law to replace her.

Fatemeh was in her early thirties, illiterate with the accent of her native Kerman. Her husband, Shahin khanoom’s brother, was an opium addict who ate opium because it was cheaper than smoking it. He worked in a shoe store belonging to another relative but did not make enough to support his habit far less his four year old son and wife. So they had decided that he should stay home and take care of their four year old son who was still too young to attend public school. Fatemeh khanoom had no experience as a house keeper but was hard working and proud. She lived in the outskirts of Karaj further from the capital than Shahin khanoom in a rented house whose toilet was a shack at the bottom of the yard. She left her home early in the morning walking down an often muddy road and taking two buses to get to our house. She never missed a single day’s work and was, unlike Shahin khanoom, very honest with a work ethic that seemed to belong more to New England than Kerman.

One day she came to work with her young and incredibly precocious son. She told me that her husband had been unable to score opium the day before because she had refused to give him money. Going through withdrawal the addict husband, one of many thousands in Iran, had taken it out on the boy and beaten him. I told Fatemeh Khanoom she could bring the boy to work every day if she wanted. Once a month I would ask the husband who was skinny and frail to come and wash windows or do some other job so that I could pay him something too. Fatemeh khanoom never again refused to pay for his opium. He was not a bad man, we had come to agree, but he was an addict who like many could not quit. When I asked Fatemeh khanoom why she did not divorce him for he was useless and abusive to boot, she told me that she would lose face in her village if she went back for her yearly Nowrouz (Iranian New Year) visit without her husband. When I asked her was it better to have an addict for a husband than none at all she told me the men in her family all smoked opium (Kerman produces the best quality of opium in the world and Kermanis are known to have a penchant for smoking it). But even if her relatives where not opium smokers it was better to keep one’s husband even if he was a murderer than walk around with the stigma of divorce. When I told her then I should probably never visit her village she told me having money changed everything and I would quickly be forgiven and have many suitors! While in Iran I often saw how money could by the most regid of religious and traditional strictures.

Roya was the first woman I employed when I returned to Iran after twenty some years in 2002. Roya khanoom was in her early twenties, a student in the last year of accounting at Tehran Azad University. Her father had been the driver of a friend’s dad before the revolution. A pretty, energetic and smart girl, she was the eldest of four sisters. She performed her prayers and fasted during Ramadan but did not believe in the hejab which she took off the minute she got inside the house regardless of the presence of unrelated men. Her father who was a fast-talking north Tehrani from Gholhak was a kind of jack of all trades who broke his fast with a shot of iced vodka that I would give him when he came around sometimes for iftar (breaking of fast after sun down). Her sister was studying English at the University in Rasht and was in love with a boy that she was secretly dating but whom she could not marry, according to tradition, until her older sister, Roya, had married.

Roya and I became very close since I was going through a difficult second marriage and she was always having boyfriend problems. She was very open-minded and hated the mullahs in power. She was, like the rest of us, very disappointed with Khatami and watched satellite Iranian television broadcasts from Los Angeles and Dubai. Like most young people I met when I lived in Iran her biggest dream was to leave. She loved clothes and makeup and spent the part of her salary which she did not give to her father on grooming. She was hard working and dedicated, a veritable manager who was running my household the second week on the job. Roya was extremely articulate and a great debater making me joke that she should study Fegh (religious law) in Qom.

She had a fiancé whom she loved. They had been dating for two years. He was a college graduate and worked for the Ministry of Commerce. It was important for Roya that her husband be at least as well educated as her. She had turned down a rich bazaari suitor for that very reason. She argued with me that a husband who is not as educated as his wife would end up resenting her. A husband feeling intellectually inferior to a wife was fatal to a marriage according to the wise beyond her years Roya. The pragmatism of women that I met in Iran, young and old, never ceased to shock me.

Finally a date had been set for her wedding after much bickering between the two families regarding the number of guests and responsibility for costs. A wedding in Iran is a serious business transaction. The price of the Mehr (or bride price) is of utmost importance. As Roya’s dad explained to me, “I have to ask for a high Mehr because if the boy turns out to be rotten who do I go to get my daughter’s reputation back?” The Mehr,(which can be cashed any time after the wedding) which I initially abhorred as putting a price tag on the woman in a marriage, actually saved Roya from the fate of Fatemeh khanoom.

The morning of the wedding Roya and her family went to the notary to sign the wedding contract but her fiancé did not show up. A few days later a distraught Roya came to me in tears. The fiancé who had managed to hide his heroin addiction had had an overdose and had been taken to the hospital a few days before. The boy’s father, afraid that the marriage would not last long and that the high bride-price would be demanded once the bride and her family found out, forced him to leave Roya waiting. If it had not been for the Mehr she would have been married to an addict which was surely worse than the pain and humiliation she had to endure for being stood up.

When Ahmadinejad got elected I moved from Iran leaving behind my own bad marriage. I have tried to keep in touch with the three women. Fatemeh works for my mother now and her husband is still at home although her son goes to school and gets straight A’s. Since I have moved she has been forced out of her rented houses five times. With the high price of rent she still does not have a place with a bath or shower. With the high price of goods she can only feed her family as much meat as my mom buys for her. Her husband still eats opium and sleeps most of the day. Shahin khanoom’s husband passed away, she married a rich Haji and is an active supporter of Ahmadinejad at her mosque according to her sister in law. Roya went on to get a job at a company after she graduated. She makes half of what she made as a babysitter and housekeeper but it was better position to have for her reputation and for finding a husband. More than seven years on she is still not married. On the phone recently Roya told me that she had never recupperated from being stood up. In her neighborhood, amongst family and friends she had lost face. She asked me if I could get her a visa and help her to leave: “this hell.”

Follow Setareh Sabety on Twitter: www.twitter.com/SetarehSabety

Source: HuffingtonPost

LETTER FROM TEHRAN 22 BAHMAN “WHAT HAPPEND TODAY”

Tehran 22 Bahman

Today was a very difficult day. Not only for the Green movement, but because the government had used all it had to show off today. There are two main analyses of this day. One is: what happened today? and the other one – which is longer and needs to incorporate opinions of others in order to reach a conclusion- is: was this a failure or a victory for the Green movement? was it done properly or not? did we get hit or we hit one? in general the pros and cons of today, that I will leave for later discussions.

WHAT HAPPENED TODAY?
As it was predicted and news reported, from early in the morning, much earlier than previous years, the buses carrying the government’s supporters arrived to downtown Tehran. They arrived from all corners of the city, with children and stroller-carrying women, with grandmothers and grandfathers who were cordially mobilized towards Azadi Square. Azadi Square was packed with the poor flyers that were printed in unbelievably huge numbers. Some people were covered in government posters, and there were more flyers and posters flying on the walls and sides of the streets. All the streets were covered with loudspeakers and musical bands, to the point that even if you shouted with your loudest voice, the person standing 10 meters away from you could probably not hear you. There were so many posters that each person was given 10s- 20s of them as soon as they arrived at the scene. If you did not carry any posters they would protest and ask you why you were empty-handed, with a look hinting that you are with the Greens, to the point that we were obligated to hold posters of Khamenei at some point.
This was their end.

Police and plain clothes militia were in such numbers that one would only wonder how this country can afford all these people on its payroll. Spending all this money for what? Can’t they run a city without all this militia? What are all the guards, police forces, and intelligence agents for? to do what exactly? Not to let a single green sign and symbol to be shown? You just had to say one الله اکبر (God is Great) and all the forces would run towards you like an insect attack to get you. It was the same story all along Azadi St. There was militia and police forces in all the parkings, hospitals, universities, everywhere; police, security, like an insects invasion. Chador-cladded women, plain clothes men, green clothes police, tiger pattern police, all colors and shapes, going up and down the walls of this city.

And now our end.
Some of us were scared and we had all the rights to be. Come and see how you can actually pee in your pants sometimes! Some have friends and family in the prison; some parents don’t let their children go out; if you take a kid with you, you will witness unimaginable scenes not proper to describe, and you can’t have grandfathers and grandmothers go out as they can’t run away from motor ridden police. A couple of streets away from Azadi Square, the police would check us out and they would immediately know which side we were with. They would then start searching the cars, our pockets, and even if you had done nothing wrong, they would get you and beat you. This was the story from the get go, around 9 AM. Nonetheless, with some stubbornness and perseverance we finally did make it to Azadi Square….

You tell me if this is a sign of the regime’s strength or its weakness? If we were able to show up with our planned calm and peacefulness in this mess, is that a failure? Is it a failure to have caused all this mobilization of police and militia? From all over the country?

Yes my friend, the Green movement without any media outlet and no leader and no institutional rights or organization, caused a lot of stir today such as the clashes with the elites and non elites [Karroubi, Rahnavard, etc]. Most importantly even if they hit us and yelled at us and didn’t let us reach our intended goals, we did gain experience, and added this experience to those gained in the past couple of months.

Let’s not forget that we are in no hurry, we won’t lose hope with one failure and get ecstatic with one win. We don’t recognize this day as the end of the road. We won’t resort to violence no matter how hard they try to provoke us. We won’t retaliate in their fashion. We will disarm them with our love and cultural superiority.

If they are real men, they can -for one day, only one day- provide us with security so that we come out and have our showdown, they can do that with the same zeal that they receive and enjoy their government paid free cookies and juices on days such as today. But wait, we don’t need them, we can do it ourselves, we are numerous in numbers “ما بیشماریم”.

They thought hard and long and this was the outcome they achieved. They should know that we are the same people who stood shoulder by shoulder in different colors next to each other only a couple of months ago. We were together in all the cities and there was not even one drop of blood that was spared.

So who is the real enemy of the people who let it get to this day???????

source: vigilantejournalist

TEHRAN’S ROOF TOPS _REMIX

Tehran’s Roof Tops – Where Is “This God forsaken” Place ” ? This Is Where Every Night People Of Tehran Plead for Deliverance from a Cruel Fascist Regime From The heavens Above .

THE ROOFTOPS FROM TEHRAN

THE ROOFTOPS FROM TEHRAN TAKE A SPECIAL PLACE NOW IN THE REVOLUTION. A SOFT, GENTLE WOMAN VOICE SPEAKS. WHILE THE CHANTS  FILLING THE NIGHT SKY OF  TEHRAN. IT WILL STOP WHEN FREEDOM HAS ARRIVED.