 Born again
Story of an MKO member: Part
six
By Sepideh
May 12, 2004
iranian.com
Interrogator Jalal turned to me and said, "Why
didn't your Brother, Ali, who was a MKO member and was
executed, kill your other Brother, Mohammad who was a Pasdar?
He could easily do that. It wasn't a big deal. Why didn't
he do it?"
I said, "Maybe he should
have been instructed by the Organization, or perhaps the Organization
didn't give him such a mandate at all."
But
Jalal responded, "No, not at all. He didn't
need a mandate to do that. If he were alive, we would make him
stand trial for not killing his Brother."
His remark
intensified my revulsion of him. I was so angry with him that
I would have smacked him in the face if I hadn't been afraid
of the Iraqi secret police.
The interrogation went on blatantly. "You claim
that you're an Organization supporter. If it's true, why didn't
you kill your Pasdar Brother and came to Iraq empty
handed?"
I
responded that my Brother was abroad and I couldn't get
hold of him. Jalal thought I was being sarcastic with him.
He
got angry and said, "You trash, stop playing the
fool. Do you think we have nothing to do but argue with jerks
like you."
I said, "You asked me why
I didn't kill my Brother. First of all, my liaison officer
in Turkey knows all this and my commander, Fariba, never gave
me such an order. Secondly, we had too many family problems and
I didn't want to add anything to them."
Jalal,
who didn't expect such a response from me lashed at me
and said, "You animal, you were thinking about your
family problems? If you were an honest supporter of the Organization,
why did you use to associate with renegade members like Hossein
N and Omid S (they were MKO member in Ghazvin and were in prison
in Iran for many
years)?"
I
said, "I associated with them because commander
Fariba had ordered me to. She wanted me to recruit them."
Jalal,
who was growing wild, banged his fist hard angrily on the table
and said, "Shut your mouth, you trash. I have seen a lot
of shameless people like you. All of those who come here
from Iran are
packs of animals and we make them human here. Now get lost and
go to your room." Jalal didn't know any limit in insulting other
people. His demeanor and the way he talked made me hold him with
abhorrence.
He really had no bounds in treating people
indecently and inhumanly.
Next morning, my team commander, Arman J, who
had come to Baghdad on business, paid me a visit. When he saw
my terrible and pitiable
condition, he thought I may break of, so he got me a book, published
by the Organization, on renegade members.
Fereidoon Gillani
wrote the book, The Hatchets and the Roots; (he worked
with MKO to ca 1994 and MKO call him perfidious now. He is
living in Germany).
It was funny and absurd of him to bring me book under those
conditions, I was almost dying from all the mental torture,
and he brought
me books to read.
I thought to myself, if Arman were me, in that
condition, he would have deserted the Organization a thousand
times, let alone Gilani, the author of the book.
Tiresome and lifeless days in Az-hadi base were passing despite
all their
adversities, and I was unaware of even worse days, which were
awaiting me.
One morning, they summoned me again to the Operation
Room. I wondered what they wanted form me this time. When I entered
the
room, I was loathed to look at Jalal's disgusting face.
As soon as I entered the room, Jalal told me, "Open
up your ears and listen to me carefully. We're sending
you to the Reception Unit again, not as an ordinary Pasdar, but
as a filthy Pasdar. You can rectify an ordinary Pasdar, but people
like you are not easy to correct. Tonight, Brother Nabi will
come and tell you things that you must write for us. Got the
picture, Pasdar? Now you can back to your room." I left the room and sighed with relief that eventually
I got rid of that unbearable, obnoxious being. But it was mere
wishful
thinking and bitter things were waiting to come down on me.
At
night, Brother Nabi came to me and said, "You know
Hassan, we are almost through with you, I mean, we are already
through with you completely. Only one thing remains; you should
write what I dictate to you. "
I inquired, "What
should I write?"
He said softly, "Nothing
important at all. We only want you to write that you were a Pasdar
before coming here, and you came here to spy. That's all
we want you to do. It's no big deal. You shouldn't
fear anything, nobody will learn about what you write." He wanted to delude me to write something, which
was absolutely untrue. I felt deeply incensed at his blatant
request, and got
infuriated at the vile game the Organization was playing with
me. I turned to him and responded angrily, "You're
driving me mad. What are you talking about, what spy? What
Pasdar? I really don't know how to make you understand
that I'm not a spy, with what language should I explain
all this so that you may understand?"
When he
saw my anger, Brother Nabi adopted a soothing and conciliatory
tone and said, "I told you it's no big deal
at all. You don't have to write that you are a spy. It's
enough if you write that you are a Pasdar, and that you are begging
sister Maryam's pardon. Don't worry, it's not
important you write that you are a Pasdar."
I wondered how a fake confession would help them.
I was determined not to write what they wanted me to because
I feared that they would use it as an alibi to hand me over
to Iraq's secret police in order to liquidate me.
I was
wrapped up in my own thoughts when I heard Brother Nabi saying, "Write."
I
recollected my senses and noticed that he had put a piece of
paper and a pen in front of me and was asking me to write the
confession.
I told him angrily, "Why do you insist
I confess to an absolute lie? I won't do it."
Nabi,
who, despite his attempts, couldn't get a confession form
me, frustratingly said, "You don't understand
any language except the language of force. I tried to be non-aggressive,
but it's not working. I will leave it to Brother
Jalal. He will speak the language you understand."
He
then left hastily, but shortly afterwards came back. Brother
Jalal accompanied him.
Jalal shouted in the loudest voice he
could muster and said, "Taking advantage of our
laxity, you dirty trash? I am serious when I tell you to write
what we want you to write. Now, I'll go but will come back
soon, and when I get back you must write that."
I retorted, "I
won't write it. Why should I write it when it's all
lies? I won't do such a thing."
Jalal, who
was extremely angry. He yelled at me and said, "How
dare you speak back to me? Zip your lips and shut up,
you dirty Pasdar. You have to write it when I want you to write
it."
Then
he referred to Brother Nabi and told him, "Give
him an hour to write the confession, and if he doesn't
write it, don't let him sleep even a wink." Then
he turned to me and said, "If you don't write
it, we won't give you an instant to sleep."
I
told myself, that even if they don't let me sleep
for ten years, I won't give in. But it didn't take
me a long time to break down. The first two days, I could overcome
the lack of sleep, but as time went on, I couldn't handle
it anymore. I had lost my power to hold it back. I fell on the
ground sporadically and then repeatedly.
Nabi kept vigil
and would come in and pour ice water on me to force me up. He
always warned me not to be obstinate and to succumb to what they
wanted. "Come off it, it won't be the end
of the world if you write the confession. Believe me, nothing
is going to change and nothing will harm you. Nobody will know
it at all. As soon as you confess, we'll send you back to the
Reception to join the others. Come on, write it, the guys are
waiting for you." >>> Part
7
*
*
|
