Archive for the ‘ئینگلیزی/ English’ Category

In memory of Farzad Kamangar, Iranian Kurdish teacher

18/05/2012 1 comment
Guardian: Kamangar, a teacher in Iran’s Kudistan region, was hanged in May 2010 for being “an enemy of God”
Iranian teacher Farzad Kamangar surrounded by his pupils in the Iranian region of Kurdistan
This month marks the second anniversary of the execution of a primary school teacher, who paid with his life for refusing to make televised confession about a crime he didn’t commit.Farzad Kamangar was 31 when he was detained by the security forces in July 2006 for allegedly collaborating with the Kurdish opposition groups. The government accused him of being “an enemy of god”. His mother believes that her son’s only crime was his ‘Kurdishness’ and his lawyer Khalil Bahramian maintained that “there was not a shred of evidence” against him.

زیاتر بخوێنەوە…

:هاوپۆله‌کانئینگلیزی/ English تاگەکان:

Majid Tawakoli: For those who represent a nation- For Farzad, Ali & Farhad

Majid Tavakoli :They announced that Ali was being sent to ward 209. The phones in the halls were disconnected. I tried to call from the phone in my hall, but that too was disconnected.

When we went upstairs, Farzad said that they had announced that he will also be moved to ward 209, but it turned out to be a lie. He was moved to ward 240 instead.

The announcement on Saturday afternoon had worried us all. They usually announce the executions for political prisoners on Saturdays. An intense sadness took over my body, but Farzad kept saying that nothing was going to happen. He said they were only going to ask him a few questions. He knew what was awaiting him, but, as always, he had a positive attitude and tried to make the best of the situation.

It was hard to believe that only moments before we were in the library together. Ali had finished playing volleyball. He had washed his face and was getting ready. It was very difficult and painful. It was around this time every day, after Ali had worked out, that he would come over so we could study physics together. He intended to take the two remaining exams so he could receive his diploma in June (2010). He had such high spirits that no one could ever believe that he was on death row.

زیاتر بخوێنەوە…

Farzad Kamangar: The Angels Who Laugh on Monday

I was listening to my cellmate’s lullaby, he was singing for his daughters Parya and Zahra. His melancholic lullaby was followed by the sobs of another cellmate, and I burst into tears too. It was the second time that he was arrested. The first time, he was sentenced to one year in jail, and this time he has to serve another 10 years. All his joy and excitement was about seeing his children who would visit him on Monday.

On the day of the visit, the children, without caring that they were surrounded by people and before their parents’ eyes (and in the middle of the seats and chairs of the visit hall), jumped up and down and performed hand stands to show their father their progressing athletic abilities.

The father, who was proud of his children, wore a smile. The mother, with her innocent expression, was trying to deny her pain of solitude and expectation. She was looking at her husband with joy and at her children’s excitement with love.

زیاتر بخوێنەوە…

Farzad Kamangar: We Are People Too

The purpose of this letter is not to pinpoint the problems of the Kurds and deny the inequalities that exist among the Baluchis, Turks, Persians, and Arabs. By adopting a sympathetic comradely toward others, one can regard themselves as a religious or ethnic minority, and thereby recognize the pains of others. We are people too.

The Kurdish story is the story of the woman who gets nothing from her matrimony but insults and beatings. When her husband was asked, “You don’t really pay for her expenses nor do you show any love to her, so why do you beat and belittle her every day?” He replied, “If I don’t do this, how will anyone know I’m her husband?”

Now for our story. In Iran’s mainstream political discourse, the words Kurds and Kurdistan unfortunately imply separatism and have anti-revolutionary and anti-security (regional) connotations.  It is as though the words Kurds and Kurdistan are uninvited guests and have no affinity with Iran.

The province of Kurdistan has become a breeding ground for certain adversities. The Kurdish people are deprived of many basic economical, social, and cultural rights. Historical underdevelopment in the province has resulted in poverty, unemployment, and disillusionment of the Kurdish people.

زیاتر بخوێنەوە…

Journalist writes letter on Farzad Kamangar’s Death/ Bahram Esmaeilbeigi: “We Are Ashamed

We are ashamed. We are ashamed because we stood by and watched you leave us. We watched you limp and we didn’t say anything. I am not sure whether it was because we were mesmerized by your kind smile or perhaps it was our feet which didn’t want to walk toward you. I am not sure, but our hands were tied. Maybe you were too tall for us to reach. Whatever it was, we learned lessons of resistance and we experienced shame. Whatever it was, we saw that one can die even standing up.

We are ashamed. We are ashamed because we knew you wouldn’t come back to us and we kept on living! We kept pointing at you, but we never showed our faces.

You became the Christ of our ideals and our silence turned into a noose around your neck. We are ashamed. We are ashamed of the sorrowful face of a woman who kept sowing seeds of hope when you weren’t there, and now that you are gone, she is learning to be patient. زیاتر بخوێنەوە…

Farzad Kamangar: Burnt Generation

Oh storm,put away your rusty axe

 a daffodil wants to blossom.

 A child wants to go to sleep.

Oh guns! Go silent and dumb

Dear Ms…


You said that you liked my letter titled, *Baba Aab Daad  and that it really resonated with you. To be honest, I wrote that letter from the bottom of my heart for my students and for my own childhood. I put my dreams and wishes down on paper. My childhood of our generation had a deep impact in all aspects of our lives.

زیاتر بخوێنەوە…

Farzad Kamangaar:Father Gave Water؟

Hello children…I miss you all. I pass my days and nights here singing songs of life while filled with your sweet memories.

Every day I greet the sun instead of greeting you. I get up every morning with you, while behind these tall walls. I laugh and sleep with your memories. Sometimes I am filled with nostalgia. I wish it was possible to forget everything- just like when we used to on our return from a school trip when we washed away the dust of our tiredness with the clear water of a river in a small village.

I wish it was possible… I wish it was possible to lend our ears to the “sound of water” and our body to the caress of flowers, as we set up our class sessions in the midst of nature’s beautiful symphony.

I wish we could leave our math books with all its problems under a rock, because when “father does not have any bread to offer at the table,”[1] what difference does it make if Pi equals 3.14 or 100.14?

زیاتر بخوێنەوە…