Weeping woman statue. Image: Luc De Leeuw 2009
Weeping woman statue. Image: Luc De Leeuw 2009
مجسمه مادر گریان
ساخته دو لیو 2009
A mother protecting her child isn’t anything unique. But in Iran,
humanitarian activist mothers are now becoming global icons for human
rights causes worldwide. In silent public protest, the ‘Mourning
Mothers of Iran,’ known locally in Tehran as the ‘Mothers of Laleh,’
stand together each week, on Saturday evening vigils in Tehran’s Laleh
Park.
“I urge all women around the world to show their
solidarity with the Committee of Iranian Mothers in Mourning by
assembling in parks, in their respective countries, every Saturday
between the hours of 7 to 8 p.m., wearing black,” said Nobel Peace
Prize Laureate, Shirin Ebadi, in a plea made to women and activists
worldwide at a July 25 Iran pro-democracy rally in Amsterdam. Like the
infamous “Women in Black,” and the ‘Madres de Plaza de Mayo,’ the
Committee of Iranian Mothers use methods of ethics in non-violence to
bring attention to the atrocity of their dead children.
Beginning in Jerusalem, in 1988, a group of almost 40 Israeli-Jewish
women of conscience formed ‘The Women in Black.’ To make their point,
they wore black clothing and stood silent in public protests. They
protested against Israeli expansion into the West Bank and Gaza on the
heels of the beginning of the 1987 Palestinian intifada. Soon Arab
women from the northern region of Israel also joined the Women in
Black. The message was asked for “Peace!” Opposing war, injustice, and
militarism, Women in Black groups and their affiliates can also be
found in Iran, Australia, the UK, Serbia, Japan, South Africa, Italy,
Spain, the Netherlands, Belgium, Canada, US, India, Nepal, Uruguay,
Argentina and the Philippines, to name a few.
Outside of
Jerusalem, 1988 was also a very dark period for Iranian history. In a
few summer months, an enormity of crimes against humanity occurred as
an overwhelming number of Iranian political prisoners were massacred.
This left thousands of Iranian mothers devastated.
According to
reports from Amnesty International, 4,500-10,000 Iranian political
prisoners were declared killed or missing inside the country that
year, over a period that lasted barely two months. After finding out
about the death of their loved ones, the families of the victims were
not allowed to receive the bodies of their dead. They were also not
allowed to hold any funerals. Instead, the held bodies were dumped
together in places like Khavaran or what the regime referred to as
La’nat-Abad, ‘The Damned Place,’ a cemetery used for burying
non-Muslims.
Mass burials at Khavaran were later accidentally
discovered by an Armenian priest who had become curious as to why
stray dogs kept digging for bones at, what was later determined the
location of the mass graves. French-Iranian woman filmmaker,
Mehrnoushe Solouki, was held in Evin Prison for nine months as she,
too, stumbled on the discovery in 2007.
“The deliberate and
systematic manner in which these extrajudicial executions took place
may constitute a crime against humanity under international law,” said
Human Rights Watch, in 2005. Perhaps of all the crimes against
humanity in the last 30 years, the 1988 Iranian mass executions
continue to be the most revealing indication of the regime’s contempt
and fear of political dissidents.
“In the recent events, the
government in Iran has been fabricating reports depicting an incorrect
image of what has been going on in the country,” said Ebadi at the
July 25, 2009 rally. “They do not want the people to know the truth.”
We may think this kind of protest is new in Iran, but Iranian
mothers have always spoken out against violence, disappearance and the
torture of their sons and daughters. Prior to the 1979 revolution,
only two mothers’ organizations existed in the country. Both were
affiliated with underground groups involved in struggles for
democracy. They worked in opposition to the monarchy of the Shah’s
regime, who’s policies had turned, at the end, to the jailing and
torture of intellectuals, feminists, students, and labour union
advocates.
“I need to tell my story. No one can stop me. No
one!” said Parvin Fahimi, an active member of Mothers for Peace and
the mother of slain 19 year old Iranian protester, Sohrab Arabi, said
recently in July. “My son had been killed, but they refused to tell
me,” she continued.
Madres de Plaza de Mayo - Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2008.
On
July 11, 2009, young Sohrab Arabi was identified as ‘Picture Number
12′ by his older brother at the Shapour Street Police Station in
Tehran. He was dead and his family finally knew the truth. He had been
missing for 26 days. On the realization, his mother was beside herself
with grief.
“Please hear my painful story as a resident of
Tehran. I lost my son on Monday 25 of Khordad (15 June) during a
peaceful rally that was taking place to protest the election results.
With the crowds estimated at a minimum of 3 million, many people were
lost and I too lost my son. The mobiles were cut off and I couldn’t
reach him – I searched everywhere for him and went back home and found
he was not there either so I went back to Azadi Square to keep
searching for him. The atmosphere was terrible, so much tear gas
everywhere, it felt more like a battle ground and I have been sick
ever since with chest problems. I couldn’t find my child and I
returned home and together with the sons of my relatives. As we
searched every hospital and police station we didn’t get a response.
My son did not have his ID card with him; he just had a bit of money
on him to go and buy test papers at Enghelab Sqaure to prepare for the
university entrance exams coming up…
That night I still did not
hear of my son. The next morning when I called 110 (the emergency
police call number) they told me to refer to my local police station.
I went to the local police station and filed a missing persons report
and they started the search process. No one had the guts to tell me
than that maybe my son was killed; some people said he was probably
arrested and some said he may be injured. I found out that 7 people
were killed that day (at the protests) of those, 5 had been identified
and 2 had not. The 2 that had not been identified were apparently
older. The sons of my family members went to see the 5 that were
identified and they confirmed that none of them was Sohrab. I was
relieved to hear that and thought that my son was therefore arrested.
I knew that he wasn’t injured because I searched every single
hospital. I am aware that some hospitals would not give me a clear
answer, but others did.
So I headed out for the Revolutionary
Court (Evin Prison) to follow up on his arrest. They told me to return
home and I told them I couldn’t – I am a Mother – I couldn’t even eat.
To this date I have a hard time eating. My throat just closes up. I
have kept myself going through liquids only in the past few weeks. I
can’t tell you how much time I spent at the Revolutionary Court… if I
were to write the story it’d make a very thick book. . .
How
can a 19 year old that has yet to sit at the University entrance
exams, and has yet to fulfill any one of his dreams, be killed? By
whom; and on whose orders; and for what? I ask the City Council, what
did my son ask of you? What did he ever ask of the government? What
did he ask of his country? …We wanted nothing but peace, tranquility
and a freedom of thought – that’s what’s important to us, is that my
son thought about whom he voted for and where his vote goes. He didn’t
ask for anything else. Just because he was a supporter of Mr. Mousavi,
he must be killed? For what crime? On the basis of what guilt? My son
was in the prime of his youth, a 19 year old, who never fulfilled his
dreams. As a mother, I ask God day and night to put an end to this
injustice.”
- Parvin Fahimi, mother of slain protester, Sohrab
Arabi
(Partial testimony given during a Tehran City Council
meeting July 23, 2009)
The exact circumstance surrounding the
death of Sohrab Arabi continues to be unexplained. According to the
International Campaign for Human Rights Iran, when the family received
Arabi’s body, his death appeared to be from the result of a gunshot
wound to the chest, but no one knows when or where this injury
occurred. An official, but inconclusive, report was made by the
Coroner on June 19.
The lives of the mothers of missing global
activists, who are often called, ‘mothers of the disappeared,’ are
often filled with moments of endurance and courage, in spite of the
grief they carry. From the mothers of slain reporters working in Iraqi
Kurdistan or the Ukraine; to the mothers of missing activist children
in Iran or Argentina; the mothers of those who have who have ‘gone
missing’ have the same experience over and over again. Mothers
worldwide have the same fear, grief, anger and frustration about their
dead and missing children.
“I begged the gunmen to kill me
instead, and they pushed me away and told me that they wanted her not
me,” said Kurdish mother of slain Iraqi journalist, Sara Abdul-Wahab,
during a May 2008 Associated Press interview. In spite of her mother’s
attempt to save her life, Sarwa was fatally shot twice in the head by
kidnappers. Tragically, her mother felt she could do nothing to save
her daughter. Sarwa was the only breadwinner for a widowed mother, a
sister and brother. She was a strong defender of human rights, a
Kurdish lawyer and activist in Iraq, who continued to work in spite of
numerous threats against her life.
When Ukrainian Prosecutor,
General Mykhaylo Potebenko, issued a statement saying that DNA tests
were delayed due to the illness of Lesya Gongadze, the mother of the
missing and presumed dead human rights reporter Georgy Gongadze, Leyla
grew suspicious. “This is a complete lie and deception,” she told
Ukrainska Pravda, the Web newspaper that her son founded. “I wasn’t
that sick, not so much as to be unable to give my blood for analysis.
I was even insisting on it because I wanted to know the truth,” she
added.
For nine year Gongadze case has been rife with confusing
facts and government shuffle. Georgy Gogandze’s mother, Lesya Gongadze
has been struggling to expose the facts from the moment her son went
missing. Faced with the dilemma of not trusting the validity of DNA
tests made by the Ukrainian authorities for an unidentifiable body
that was found in 2000, Lesya continues to ask questions and demand
clarity on the true circumstances surrounding the murder of her son.
To date, she has not been satisfied with the answers given her.
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