From being ‘impure’ as a child to becoming a prisoner

Persian2English – Below is an English translation of a written note by Navid Khanjani, a member of two Iranian human rights organizations. He was arrested at his home in Isfahan on March 2, 2010 and transferred to Evin prison. Navid was imprisoned until May 3, 2010 and was issued a 12-year prison sentence on January 31, 2011. According to Amnesty International, Navid has appealed the ruling, “but an appeal hearing date has not yet been set. If imprisoned, he would be a prisoner of conscience, held solely in connection with his peaceful human rights activities.”
From being ‘impure’ as a child to becoming a prisoner of the IRGC as a youth

Translated by Siavosh Jalili, Persian2English

I remember my childhood, when my family was constantly in fear of our Muslim neighbours. I remember the adults would say that, in the peak of the [1979] Revolution, the extremist Muslim neighbours would go on their rooftops, stick their mouth to the ventilator canal and scream: “God is Great “ (Allah-o-Akbar).

As a child, whenever I went into the streets, I was fearful of people and the Islamic city. [I was filled] with insecurity and felt like a stranger. When I was merely seven years old and had begun school, I [was forced to hide] the fact that my family was not Muslim. No one was supposed to know that my family was Baha’i.

I remember that my mom used to come to my school and talk to the principal, the vice-principal, and the teachers. My mom always clashed with the school officials when it was time for the (mass) prayer. The fact that they forced me, a seven-year-old child, to take part in the prayer was problematic for my family. I was unable to understand these issues during that time. I only realized the smell of sweaty feet which filled the air and the group of people who lined up in a single file, bowed, and returned to a straight position. I imitated them so I would not be noticed and punished.

At that time, in my young mind, and in order to quell the hatred and negative perspective of the principal, vice-principal, and the teachers, I made efforts to memorize verses of the Qur’an and recite them in a more beautiful voice than the person standing in the front of the line. Today, when I reflect on my actions back then, I smile bitterly.

When that period passed, it was time to sign up for middle school. I quickly became aware that the issue I was experiencing to register was not my grades but rather the question of religion and the fact that I was not Muslim. The schools either refused to register me or they would set many conditions so it would seem like they were doing me a large favour by registering me.

I was 13 when I began to explore the world around me. During that period I got to know the Qur’an and “Islamic Nurture and Education” studies teacher. During the Qur’an and Islamic studies courses, the teacher would sometimes ask me to leave the classroom and stand behind the door. I remember that the teacher would gather the students and talk to them. I was not supposed to be present for the talk. When [the teacher's] talk ended, my classmates would look at me differently.

I remember when [our class went on] field trips. [The mode of travel] was a few cars [instead of a bus], because there weren’t many students. I would always be [instructed to] sit in the car with the “Islamic training and nurturing” teacher. But, when I tried to enter the car, he would say to me: “You don’t have the right to sit in my car! You are impure, and will imbue and stain the car. You are dirty!” He would close the car door on me, and I [was forced to] spend the day in the school yard waiting for my classmates to return.

It is interesting that, during those days, I was too embarrassed to even talk to my family about the harassment that [I endured]. Perhaps, an instinct drove me to not share those events. In any case, since the day the teacher called me dirty and impure in front of other students, I began to secretly wash my face 30 times with soap. After a while, my skin became dry and scaled. At that time, I thought to myself that [my teacher] could not have been making a mistake [because] he certainly must have known something. I thought that I had to rid myself of the dirt.

During middle school, in the midst of the disrespect and mistreatment I [endured] from my teachers, I also witnessed the tremendous respect of other teachers toward me and my family. For example, the history teacher whose face was deformed knew my uncle (I later learned that the deformity was caused by tortures he had endured as a political prisoner during the 1980′s). He would indirectly pay homage to [my uncle]. Yet, I [was still too young] to understand these acts of respect or mistreatment.

When I reached high school, everything changed. The sense of patriotism and love for the people and revolutionary personalities was replaced by humiliation. I used every opportunity to study history and politics. There was a library where I used to frequent and indulge myself in books. During that period, I heard about the July 1999 student uprising and witnessed teachers go on strike for more benefits and rights. I gradually began to feel that I was not alone. It became apparent then that there are other people who get discriminated against and who fight against inequalities.

[Even though] I began to realize what the clashes were all about, these struggles did not preoccupy me. All I wanted to do was study and attend university. However, they kept telling me that I was unable to attend university, even if I was accepted. For 25 years, none of us (from the Baha’i community) had attended university [in Iran]. After the 1979 Revolution and the Cultural Revolution, Baha’is were banned from attending university. If a Baha’i wanted to study, they had to study in a Baha’i underground university.

I will cut my writing short. I took part in the university *entrance exam for mathematics, but was not allowed to choose a field of study based on my results. Later on, they stripped me of the right to select a degree and attend university. As a result, I went to a Baha’i underground university, a university that was right across Sharif University. We had to commute to and from the university very discretely. And, of course, we used to watch the Sharif University students. For them, everything was different…

Anyways, one day out of nowhere, after two semesters, and while I was in the middle of a term, I packed my stuff from the student dormitory and told my roommates that I did not belong there: “I am going.” I left to once again sit in on the University *Entrance exam. This time around, I was determined to pursue my rights as an Iranian citizen.

I sat in on the exam four times, but they refused to give me my exam results each time. Instead of the results, I received letters claiming my application was incomplete. I followed up my case with [everyone], from the MP’s to the city’s Friday Prayer Imam. [I also followed my case with] the Ministry of Advanced Education, the Evaluation’s Organization (responsible for holding and running the University *Entrance exam), the Cultural Revolution Council, and the Supreme Leader’s office…I was unable to restore the rights I sought through these follow-ups, but I obtained information that I would have never received through a university education. My eyes were opened to facts that no university [was able to] open my eyes to.

These issues continued from the 2009 Presidential election until March 2010, when my follow-ups with the Ministry of Advanced Education, the Evaluation’s Organization, the Cultural Revolution Council, and my meetings with the MP’s resulted in my detention [and interrogation] in ward 2-A of Evin prison, which is a section under the control of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC).

As I write these passages, I currently face a 12-year prison sentence. I am sure this is not the end of [my] story. It is noteworthy that I am not alone on this road. I have many friends and companions who have suffered. The story I have told is their pain as well- it is our common pain.

I would like to mention the name of my imprisoned friends: Sama Nourani, Zia Nabavi, Majid Dorri, Mahdieh Golroo…

Once again, I have to tell those who have inflicted discrimination and oppression that this is not the end of the story. I leave the end of this story for our country’s bright future, a future where I will have faith.

*In Persian the University Entrance exam is called Concours (pronounced Konkoor), taken from the French word “concours”, which means “contest”.

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