Jailed Student Writes Letter to Iranian Judiciary’s Head

To Mr. Mohammad Javad Ardeshir Larijani, the Head of the Human Rights Council for Iran’s Judiciary,

The letter you find before you has a long and detailed history. When I think back to October 2010, the date I was exiled to Karoun prison, I realize how many moments I had spent contemplating writing this letter. Of course, it goes without saying that there is a significant difference between contemplating something and actually doing it. This state of uncertainty is a characteristic of human behaviour that often creates doubt, suspicion, and apprehension, which results in our ineffectiveness.

Writing this letter was not easy by any means. Every time I took the pen to write on the paper a few lines of criticism, I kept questioning whether it was the right thing to do. I wondered what the purpose of writing such a letter was and if the conditions could indeed ever change. I kept deliberating what my role was: who am I to criticize? Am I capable of expressing my thoughts on paper? Does anything I say carry any weight?

Believe me, in the months since my exile to Karoun prison, I have often struggled with what I should do and how I should react in the face of the inhumane, unbearable, and disastrous conditions at this prison. Of course, since my arrival, I have discussed the prison conditions with the prison officials and judicial authorities; an act that has led to some positive results. The conditions in this prison are, however, so utterly out of the realm of what is considered appropriate, that I doubt [the issues] will be resolved even with the determination of all the prison authorities. We need a new approach and higher levels of authority in order to bring about the changes needed badly.

I am fully aware that when reading this letter, your impression of [my] motives will strongly determine your reaction. I dare to hope that this letter will have a positive effect, [because I believe] you will read this letter with an empathetic point of view. However, I realize that your reaction to this letter is out of my hands. Frankly, any effort on my part to defend my motives (motives that are unclear even to me), would be immoral and incorrect to say the least. Perhaps it is best that you ignore my intentions altogether and look objectively.

I can guarantee, if nothing else, that I have not exaggerated my account on the conditions in Karoun prison. And although I may have inadvertently omitted information about the [prison's] shortcomings, I have not added anything that is not true. I have chosen to limit the content of this letter to my own experiences in Karoun prison’s ward 6, where I am currently jailed. It goes without saying that, in addition to the general challenges associated with this ward, I am dealing with my own unique set of problems related to the shortcomings of my legal case. Since discussing my case is beyond the scope of this letter, I will not delve into that matter.

The most significant challenge facing Karoun prison in Ahvaz is the intense overcrowding in, for example, ward 6, where I am currently incarcerated. Based on the number of beds available, this ward has a maximum capacity of 110 prisoners, but, on average, it holds more than 300 prisoners at a time; that is three times the maximum capacity that is permitted. It is obvious that with such overcrowding, [we] experience difficulties fitting in the rooms, even when standing, which has [forced] many to sleep on the floors ( I slept without a bed for six months). A third of the prisoners sleep outside in the courtyard, so the entire area allocated to prisoners to receive fresh air is covered with prison blankets. Additionally, a large number of prisoners are forced to spend day and night outdoors, regardless of the weather conditions. And when it rains at night, many of these prisoners are forced to take refuge in the prison’s kitchen, bathroom, or showers. Believe me, even witnessing such an event is horrific. These days the only thing that makes me happy is knowing that I am alive. I am grateful that I have never had to endure sleeping outside in the courtyard or in the bathroom like so many of the other prisoners.

The overcrowding at the prison has resulted in the integrating of prisoners. Although ward 6 is referred to as a “security” ward, only one out of every six inmates is charged with political or security-related crimes. The other inmates are held in the ward on drug-related charges or theft. One of the three rooms in the prison has been assigned to political prisoners and prisoners with security charges. However, with the exception of the sleeping quarters, all prisoners share the courtyard, kitchen, bathrooms and showers.

The prisoners charged with theft and drug-related crimes have their own specific set of problems like, drug addiction, dangerous illnesses, and other hygienic challenges that is generally not found in political prisoners. This makes it very difficult to be in close proximity to these prisoners.

It is worth mentioning that Ahvaz has a second prison dedicated to prisoners charged with financial crimes. This prison has much better hygienic conditions and would, without a doubt, have been a more logical location for the incarceration of political prisoners and prisoners charged with security crimes.

The courtyard where prisoners can take advantage of fresh air in ward 6 measures 8 x 15 meters, and, given the overcrowding of the ward, this means that during the assigned time to receive fresh air, each square meter is shared by three prisoners at a time. Only someone who has experienced prison life understands how torturous it is to be deprived of fresh air and an area to walk a few steps to stretch your legs. In addition, the courtyard is covered with a ceiling joist made of round iron bars that form a melded mesh. Though designed to prevent prisoners from escaping, it limits the amount of fresh air and results in extreme heat during the hellish summers in Ahvaz that make the courtyard feel like an oven. Sadly, there is also no shaded area, which leaves many prisoners exposed to the strong sunlight. The mesh ceiling also deprives prisoners of the limited pleasure of looking up at the blue sky, which makes [us] feel like caged animals.

The hygienic conditions at this prison are non-existent. Honestly, one cannot expect much more from such an old prison, considering the overcrowding and the types of prisoners held here. Some of the prisoners who lived simple lives outside of prison, are used to these conditions and have easily adapted to their surroundings. These individuals never shower, do not change their clothes, do not use any kind of soap, and walk around bare foot even when entering the bathrooms and other areas. Given their presence, I am sure you can begin to get a picture of the hygienic conditions in this ward. The bathrooms in ward 6 are also very dirty and sub par. In order to use the bathrooms or take a shower, one is forced to wait for hours. The running water in the shower is often cold. The bathroom sinks consist of six old water taps in a row that [only give cold water] and drain into a highly contaminated waterway. Oddly enough, [the bathroom area] is used for multiple purposes. Try and imagine a two meter area where someone is washing their hands, another is drinking water, someone else is brushing their teeth, another is washing dishes, someone else is cleaning himself for prayer, another is shaving, someone else is washing and draining their rice, while another blows his nose. Even though this is a nauseating thought, for those who experience it, sadly, there is no escape.

Another significant challenge in ward 6 is the sewage system. As a result of the inadequate sewage system, living with mice and cockroaches has become common for prisoners in this ward. A much more serious problem, however, is that the sewage system clogs once in a while, pours into the courtyard, and covers the area where prisoners sleep. The smell fills the entire outside area and lingers for hours. Honestly, at times, the contamination and stench is so maddening that it depicts a whiff of fresh air in an unattainable dream.

Although breathing the same cigarette smoke filled air in a confined area as many other prisoners is torture in itself, when mixed with the stench of sewage, it becomes even more unbearable; particularly if it begins to rain heavily because the courtyard turns into a swimming pool and it becomes impossible to move back and forth to the bathrooms and toilets without a handcart. What is even more heart breaking is that, despite the sewage covering the entire outside area, the prisoners are forced to lay out their belongings and sleep and eat in that same area.

I will not speak of the food in prison since my observations may be interpreted as my personal preferences. It is suffice to say that the honourable prison cook will not even bother to peel the potatoes used in the food. The prison store rarely provides fresh fruit and, on average, after much conflict, each prisoner is left with a kilogram of fruit every six weeks at best. This makes contracting illnesses caused by vitamin deficiency very common in prison.

Cooking in prison has its own set of challenges. First, there are no refrigerators for storing fresh food. This makes it very challenging to cook; in particular during the warmer months. The prison refrigerators were removed after inspectors found drugs inside one. This is like removing all the cars from the street because drugs were found in one! The kitchen provided for cooking, apart from being dirty, is very small. It is approximately 3 square meters.

There are also many hardships with communication. The prisoners have no access to newspapers or magazines and they are banned from receiving any from the outside world. Prison authorities also impose many restrictions on books. I personally have not been able to receive books that are of interest to me. The books are not controversial in the area of philosophy, physics, and literature. When it comes to telephone access, each prisoner in ward 6 has telephone access for only three minutes a week. It goes without saying that three minutes is insignificant for someone who is thousands of miles away from their loved ones. Even this insignificant amount of time was taken away from all prisoners as a result of unforeseen circumstances. The prisoners are incommunicado. I was deprived of all telephone privileges at Karoun prison for a long period of time and banned from leaving my sleep area and using the prison’s library.

What occurs behind these prison walls is “indescribable” and impossible to convey. Until I was forced to live it, I had never in my life experienced or read and heard about anything quite like this. Such a prison has never been depicted in any movie or book. It was inconceivable to me that such a place could even exist. I suppose this tragedy stems from individuals being forced to spend every living moment under such unbearable conditions, held in a small, confined, and contaminated environment that is overcrowded with conflicting prisoners of all kinds. I have a difficult time describing a place that lacks even fresh air or a small area where prisoners can take a few steps.

Since the past months that I have spent in this prison, I have sometimes spent nights and days questioning my thoughts and behaviour. This process has made me come up with some surprising conclusions. I feel as though my life is slowly drifting from one where I live like a human to one where I am treated like an animal. The instinct of self preservation and the desire to survive have become my main drive and concern. It feels as though there is nothing else to worry about except to stay alive. When I leave my room, for example, I try very hard to avoid contact with anyone. If anyone sleeping in the courtyard addresses me, I pretend as that I do not hear them and ignore them rudely. When in line for the showers or to use the toilets, I find myself fighting like a prehistoric human, while trying at all times to limit contact [with the other prisoners] as much as possible. Believe me when I say that although I am not a picky person in the least bit, I feel as though one must be fearful of even breathing the air here. On cold winter nights, when I would stare at the two or three prisoners squirming under one damp and dirty blanket while sleeping, I was left shocked at my lack of pity and compassion for others. It felt as though I had completely accepted that this is and will always be the fate of the world and humanity at large. How can one be ethical in a place where humans don’t have the courage, if only for one moment, to put themselves in the place of others?

Perhaps I have said enough. There is so much left to say, but given my fear that expressing them will only render this letter less effective, I will refrain from saying more. My hope in writing this letter is to bring the attention of the authorities to this catastrophic situation so the unbearable conditions in Karoun prison may be improved. The conditions are so unfortunate that they can only be described as “bordering between humanity and barbarity”.

Zia Nabavi
Karoun prison, Ahvaz

Source: http://persian2english.com/?p=21915