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Yesterday, I saw your face in this documentary about the elections and
post-election demonstrations in Teheran in June 2009. I saw your coward
eyes under the black helmet, Basidj. Like all of the other black-dressed
and heavily armed puppets of your leaders, you seemed to enjoy this
feeling of total power over the students on the streets of Teheran, who
had nothing else to defend against you than their T-shirts, canvas
slipper and hand-written posters.
You felt so much superior, when you started to beat them and kick those
who were already laying on the ground. You felt so powerful, fed with
drugs by your fat and conscienceless commanders and equipped with the
newest high-tech guns and tear-gas bullets and truncheons from the top
weapons factories of the world. How did you felt, when you did your
so-called job out there ? I guess you wanted to impress your commanders
and the other members of your squad by the ruthlessness of your
beating, by the precision of your shooting. But we all know that you are
just a bloddy coward. You think you are strong in the moment when you
torture and kill unarmed young people, mostly students, young women but
also children and elder people. Did you felt satisfied for pleasing your
coward commanders and the heads of this criminal gouvernment.
And when you saw how the bullets from your guns made the streets turn
red, didn”t you thought that this is more thrilling than your
ego-shooter computer game ? And how does it feel if you kick your
steel-armed boots into the belly of somebody whom you first chained
feets and arms with a cable ? Does it gives you an emotional blow to
imagine how the steel covers of your boots causes pain and internal
bleeding in the person laying on the ground in front of you ? Did you
considered kicking again and again, not just to score higher at your
commanders record, but also to repeat this image of how your stupid
steel boots so easily destroy the head of an intelligent young man or
girl ? And later, when you throwed those who were wounded and could not
escape anymore onto pick-ups and trucks to bring them to Evin Prison or
Ghezel Hesar, I’m sure you knew that this was not a journey for medical
treatment or recovery, but to further harras and rape and kill them.
And if you later saw the pictures of Neda Agha-Soltan and Sohrab Arabi,
cowardly killed by you and your commrades, how long did they reappeared
in your dreams, before you got rid of them with more drugs and
blood-money and more violence ?
But you should know, Basidj, that what you did 2009 on Tohid square wont
be forgotten. You turned a peaceful demonstration into a blood shed.
The hundred thousands that walked the streets those days, wearing green
T-shirts and green shawls did not even thought that this day might end
up in violence. The girls had put on their most beautiful jewelery and
make-up and the men kept their expensive lap-tops with them in their
bags. People were sure that this day will demonstrate hope for a better
future of this country and for the power of a peaceful political change.
The people on the streets felt the dawn of this grey period of
political speechlessness, and they were hoping to meet some of the
political leaders to discuss the future of the country after the
elections.
The millions who gave their vote in the 2009 election and later formed
the endless band of the green movement in the streets of Teheran, they
wont forget that this hope for a peaceful move was turned by Basidj
cowards just like you into a violent nightmare. And the next time they
meet you on the same streets, don”t expect any more unarmed young
academics. The next time, Basidj, you will be attacked, there wont be an
option for peaceful settlement any more. And when the magazin of your
automatic gun will be empty, and you again killed and wounded the first
twenty of the protesters than, there will come another twenty and
another twenty and the same to each other of your Basidj commrades.
There will be hundred thousands again coming out of the universities, of
the restaurants and shops and beauty-salons, from all the places they
escaped to in 2009, when they had to run away from your guns and
truncheons. But this time they wont run away any more, and they dont
want to talk to you any more, but they will attack you and kill you. And
then, the streets of Teheran will turn red again, but this time it will
be your damned blood.
And if somebody will throw your dead corpse in the gateway of your
house, there wont be anybody crying tears for your death. Your mother
will come out at night and bring you corpse to the waste bin of the
garden, together with the chicken-heads and rotten carrots and the bad
smelling polo from last week. Your parents will be so ashamed of you,
there will be no mourning for you. And for all the cowardize of your
life, Basidj, your children will forget your name. To avoid that others
point with fingers on them, they will tell everybody that they don’t
know who their father was. Your name will be forgotten in a new, free
Iran. And only the history text books will know a precise number of
nameless Basidj cowards. And you will have been one of them, not more,
but also not less.