 Born again
Story of an MKO member: Part five
By Sepideh
December 19, 2003
The Iranian
Jalal responded angrily, "shut up your big mouth,
you piece of trash. We have seen people like you many times.
Do you think I don't know your brother, Dr. Mohammad K,
who
along
with Dr. M used to transplant the eyes of the MKO members
to Iranian soldiers injured in the Iran-Iraq war? You shameless
jerk. You should keep in mind where you are. You aren't
in Iran and you can't play with us. I have seen animals
like you a lot. So you'd better open up your mouth and
tell us whatever you know."
I felt terrible and had been reduced to a wreck,
mentally and physically. I had to tolerate the situation and
answer the interrogator's
questions. He badgered me with his questions. I felt weak and
lethargic and couldn't breathe properly. I turned to brother
Nabbi and asked for a glass of water and said, "I
feel to bad, I feel faint brother."
I had hardly uttered my last
word when Jalal got up in anger and slammed his fist on the table,
saying "No. Don't give him water Nabbi.
He'd better have syphilis instead of water. He's
trying to fool us. You are fainting? But, we are just feeling
refreshed and renewed. You dirty trash, don't
pretend to be innocent. We were not born yesterday. If you feel
bad you had better throw up and confess everything, then you
will feel better. You think you are very clever? You didn't
know that the Organization is more clever than you. We have
undeniable evidence that you were sent here to spy."
It was unbelievable. They didn't want to stop.
They relentlessly plied and tortured me with their questions
for five hours. I
was exhausted. So I pleaded with Jalal and begged him to believe
I wasn't a spy. I entreated him. "By God I
am not a spy. By God I want to fight against the regime. By heaven
and earth I am not a spy, how can I make you understand this?
I am not a Pasdar. If I were, I wouldn't be here. You must be
sure of that. Don't torture me so much. If you find that I
am a spy then
you can execute me. But first investigate more.
Don't punish me for a crime I have not committed."
But interrogator Jalal, totally oblivious to reason,
responded, "We don't understand these things. You must tell us
what your mission is, otherwise, we have to
treat you differently."
I had completely lost my mental
balance and was going mad. Now I knew what mental suffering
meant. I had never been treated like that in my life. The pressure
was beyond my mental endurance. I was willing to die. I was cursing
Jalal in my heart for torturing me.
I mustered all my strength
in my tongue and said, "What are you talking about?
Which mission? Why are so persistent? I have been sympathizing
with the Organization for 12 years. My brother lost his life
for you. Moreover, everything else aside, you brought me here
yourselves and now tell me I'm a spy? I don't know
what's going on here. I'm getting crazy. If you have
any evidence, show it to me, and I will believe whatever you
say. Way should I confess I'm a spy, when I'm not?
If I were a spy I would spy for you, not for the regime. Tell
me if I'm wrong."
"Shut up," Jalal said. "You good-for-nothing
Pasdar. Open up your ears to what I say. What you have said so
far is
just nonsense and a pack of lies. Be a good boy and think about
what I tell you. You have one day's time to think over
what I tell you, and then confess the truth. I will wait till
tomorrow. If you are a good boy and confess, you will
be pardoned. Otherwise, we are going to send you to Iraqi
intelligence and they will wrench confessions from
you like a dog. Now get lost and go to your room,
you
animal. And don't play innocent with me."
I was shocked and terrified. My limbs were shuddering
from the strain I had experienced. I was immensely worried and
anxious.
I was scared to death from hearing the name of Iraqi intelligence.
I thought to myself if I could reveal all these to brother Massoud,
he would give them a befitting response. However, I
decided not to succumb even if they turned me in. I never expected
the Organization's intelligence unit to be this horrifying. The
way it acted, would,
in the long run, turn members and sympathizers against the Organization.
I was determined to inform the Organization's leadership
of Jalal's and his friend's brutal behavior. But
how could I do this? I was still a captive in Jalal's hands.
Tomorrow, I had to face a storm of charges, helpless. I
had no option. That day I was obsessed with his behavior and
words.
That morning, they took me again to the Operation
room, the same room where brother Jalal and brother Nabi were.
I was horrified
and anxious. I felt as if I was being taken to face an execution
squad. I entered the room and sat where I had the day before.
Damned Jalal was staring at me from over his glasses. When my
eyes met his, I was sure that, like yesterday, I was going to
be down on my luck again.
Eventually he said, "I
hope you have thought it over and made up your mind to be a good
boy. I hope you tell me the truth no matter what I ask you.
Brother Nabi will make sure that I ignore and forget all that
you said
yesterday. So you had better stop spinning a yarn, and tell the
truth."
But I had nothing to tell him. After a life long
devotion, now I had to prove that I was innocent? It was very
funny, absurd and at the same time pitiful. Jalal went on asking
me the same questions. This continued for several days. He was
violent and persistently threatened that he would
send me to Iraq's intelligence organization.
During those days, the only thing I could do was
to protest my innocence. After several days of interrogation,
one day Jalal
wanted me to prove that I was not a spy. I guessed they had found
out that they were mistaken. I felt I had to
prove my case that I was not a spy >>> Part
6
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