Dreadful Tortures in Qezel Qa’eh Prison

When we reached Qezel Qa’eh Prison[1], they guided us to a corridor where Saqi’s room was on its left side. There I could drop the keys on my feet and slowly on the ground and they were lost in the darkness over there. It was relief for me.

After some moments they moved me to “Surgery Room [otagh-e amal]”[2]. This room was located in the east to west side of there. They shoved me behind the table in middle of the room. One of the agents put his hand on the chair. I did not notice what he wanted to do. Suddenly he pulled the chair. I fell down on the ground by my back so hard before being able to do anything. I could only save my head by putting my hands on it. Right then, the four people in the room began hitting me by kicking and punching savagely. There was no limit for their hits. They persistently continued hit me until I fainted or I got asleep. I do not remember because I could not feel their hits anymore; I just could feel the heaviness of the hits on my head. When I opened my eyes, two people came and helped me to sit on the chair again. I was badly battered and pain had penetrated to all my body. My eyes and face were burning. My eyes were bruised and swollen. Moments later the interrogator came in and looked at me and said: “Ok. Did you rest enough and free of tiredness … ok, now we can talk to each other…”

He pretended that was not aware of my walloping. However, I was not tortured in his presence. I told him: “Let me pray.” He said: “Do you pray, really?! You are not believers! You don’t have homeland... One who doesn’t have homeland, is not a believer either….!”

Finally, they let me to go to toilet. I was badly staggering and twisting of agony. I moved toward toilet bending on my stomach and pushing my hands on it. They kept the door of the toilet half opened. I performed my ablution and returned. It was near the dawn. I do not remember with those all dirty and bloody clothes I prayed toward which direction. I talked to God and said: “Oh, Lord! I pray, but the way you see?! I don’t know… count it as whatever you wish… Allahu Akbar…”

Right after my prayers, they took me and fastened my feet to a bed and began beating, but differently. They would stop beating for some seconds and ask some questions and I would answer nonsense. They would beat again and this process continued for a few hours. They had my letter to Saeed Mohammadi Fateh in hand. They wanted to make me confess that I had written that letter. However, I did not confess anything despite all the tortures and slashes. My feet were bruised, swollen and senseless. I even did not feel my legs at all if they existed or not.

Tolerating the most savage and brutal tortures continued for fifteen days. During the last days I was so weak that I would faint soon after the tortures begin. However, they would make me awake by pouring buckets of water and using different shocks. I had lost all my strength and this matter would speed up my fainting. With all those tortures the world of being fainted was a beautiful one, because I would be free of all those sufferings and pain; and there was no need to be worried about confessing.

Because of the buckets of cold water, they poured on me, my nerves hurt and weakened a lot. Tortures continued and I was no more an ordinary man; sometimes I would wake up and began shouting and insulting the people around there. It was the last straw for me.

I could not tolerate that condition any more. I’d wish my temple hit somewhere and die in the middle of those all tortures and beating. Sometime I would use some words to intrigue the agents to hit me to die.

The agents’ savageness was so much in a way which is unexplainable for me. You may not believe their brutality. However, it was unbelievable for them that how I resist all those tortures. One day during those torturing days, an agent who was a bit kinder than others told me: “Hey man! Talk and be free. Why you should tolerate such suffering…” One day, Manouchehri (Azghandi), the famous torturer came and put a glance on my bloody and dirty face and body and said: “It’s enough. Stop beating him.”

By his involvement, the conditions got worse. That day, the kept an agent there to keep me awake. I was awake about 6 hours. The tortures of the day before and the deadly tiredness and pain in my joints would make me sleep compulsively. Whatever they would hit me on my face, it was useless. I would move by each hit and go sleep again involuntary. At times they would slash on my injuries and sometimes hit me by kicking and fisting and throwing me from one side of the room to the other; while I was still half asleep. They kept me awake for some days.

On those conditions after five to six hours of sleeplessness sleeping was like dying for me and I had no control my nerves. Persistent tortures and being asleep-awake had destroyed my nerves at all and I would go into convulsion. I do not remember which day it was that they left me alone for an hour. Suddenly I thought of a wrong deed; committing suicide! I thought by myself it was the only way to free me of all those pains. However, I had nothing to do it. I decided to hit my head hard to the wall. I stood up, gathered my all might and headed toward the wall. At one moment the wall was just in front of my eyes but involuntary my hands covered my head and impeded its direct tough to the wall… I had fainted on the floor for some time that the guards came again. The lifted me up and threw me to another corner and did not let me to be by my own.

On the last day of wakening torture, Manouchehri came to “Surgery Room”. When he saw my condition began shouting on the guards, interrogators and torturers. Then he insulted me by some bad curses and told them: “Let him be … that stupid man … what the hell he thinks he is going to be… a hero…!? Leave him…” I was not normal. I was half asleep and falling down. However, someone had kept me standing from the back. After some insults, Manouchehri took out a letter and threw it in front of me and said: “Read! ...take it and read…” Despite that abnormal condition that I was in, I took that paper and read it with some mistakes. I compulsively said: “It is my signature!” Suddenly a hard fist hit my face: “So, why you denied it before?!” I became a bit cautious and said: “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Then I fell down fainted again. They woke me up again by slapping on my face and slashes. They gave me another paper. It seemed to be one of Hezbollah pamphlets but nameless. It was full of Koranic verses. I knew many Koranic verses by my heart, but at that time I read all of it in a wrong way. It was so obvious that one of interrogators told me: “…shame on you by this reading! Are you a Muslim! You invite people to Islam like this…!” I think it was a mercy of God that I read those verses in a wrong way. Manouchehri gave up at last and told them that I was not anyone of any importance and they should let me be on my own and then they went. (Document No 5)

I exactly do not remember how many days I was there in in that room in coma or asleep. I do not remember if I have said my daily prayers there of eat something. What time and when, I do not remember. One day I just felt the pain in my feet and woke up. I saw an agent was trying to wake me up. From daylight I guessed it was about 9 o’clock in the morning. From the conversation between the agents in the room, I found out that my interrogator was Tehrani or Azghandi[3] and they were about to evacuate the “Surgery Room” for interrogating and torturing the one who had been arrested in the mountains and jungle. They took me out of there.