That ominous night it was I that should have been killed. My body would have been thrown in some corner of the city, and after afew days, the policewould have taken you to the coroner’soffice to identify my body and there you would also learn that I had been raped as well.The murderer would have never been found since we don’t have their wealth and their power. Then you would have continued your life suffering and ashamed, and a fewyears later you would have died of this suffering and that would have been that.However, with that cursed blow the story changed. My body was not thrown aside, but into the grave of Evin Prison and its solitary wards, and now the grave-like prison of Shahr-e Ray. But give in to the fate and don’t complain. You knowbetter that death is not the end of life.Jabbari then asks forone final favor fromher mother: “Once again you have to suffer because of me. It is the only thing that if even you beg for it I would not become upset although I have told you many times not to beg to save me from beingexecuted.” She did not want her organs to go to waste:I don’t want to rot under the soil. I don’t want my eye or my young heart to turn into dust. Beg so that it is arranged that as soon as I am hanged my heart, kidney, eye, bones and anything that can be transplantedbe taken away frommy body and given to someone who needs them as a gift. I don’t want the recipient know my name, buy me abouquet, or even pray for me.Read the full text of the message after the jump.Dear Sholeh, today I learned that it is now my turn to face Qisas (the Iranian regimes law of retribution). I am hurt as to why you did not let me know yourself that Ihave reached the last page of the book of my life. Don’t you think thatI should know? You know how ashamedI am that you are sad. Why did you not take the chancefor me to kiss your hand and that of dad?The world allowed me to live for 19 years. That ominous night it was I that should have been killed. My body would have been thrown in some corner of the city, and after afew days, the policewould have taken you to the coroner’soffice to identify my body and there you would also learn that I had been raped as well.The murderer would have never been found since we don’t have their wealth and their power. Then you would have continued your life suffering and ashamed, and a fewyears later you would have died of this suffering and that would have been that.However, with that cursed blow the story changed. My body was not thrown aside, but into the grave of Evin Prison and its solitary wards, and now the grave-like prison of Shahr-e Ray. But give in to the fate and don’t complain. You knowbetter that death is not the end of life.You taught me that one comes to this world to gain an experience and learn a lesson and with each birth a responsibility is puton one’s shoulder. Ilearned that sometimes one hasto fight. I do remember when you told me that the carriage man protested the man who was flogging me, but the floggerhit the lash on his head and face that ultimately led to his death. You told me that for creating a value one should persevere even if one dies.You taught us that as we go to school one should be a lady in face of the quarrels and complaints. Do you remember how much you underlined the way we behave? Your experience was incorrect. When this incident happened, my teachings did not help me. Being presented in court made me appear asa cold-blooded murderer and a ruthless criminal. I shed no tears. I did not beg. I did not cry my head off since I trusted the law.But I was charged with being indifferent in face of a crime. You see,I didn’t even kill themosquitoes and I threw away the cockroaches by taking them by their antennas. Now I have becomea premeditated murderer. My treatment of the animals was interpreted as being inclined to bea boy and the judgedidn’t even trouble himself to look at the fact that at the time of the incidentI had long and polished nails.How optimistic was he who expected justice from the judges! He never questioned the fact that my hands are not coarse like those of a sportswoman, especially a boxer. And this country that you planted its love in me never wanted me and no one supported me when under the blows of the interrogator I was crying out and I washearing the most vulgar terms. WhenI shed the last sign of beauty from myself by shaving my hair I was rewarded: 11 days in solitary.Dear Sholeh, don’t cry for what you are hearing. On thefirst day that in the police office an old unmarried agent hurt me for my nails I understood that beauty is not looked for in this era. The beauty of looks, beauty of thoughts and wishes, a beautiful handwriting, beautyof the eyes and vision, and even beauty of a nice voice.My dear mother, my ideology has changed and you are not responsiblefor it. My words areunending and I gave it all to someone so that when I am executed without your presence and knowledge, it wouldbe given to you. I left you much handwritten material as my heritage.However, before my death I want something from you, that you have to provide for me with all your might and in any way that you can. In fact this is the only thing I want from this world, this country and you. I know youneed time for this. Therefore, I am telling you part of my will sooner. Please don’t cry andlisten. I want you togo to the court and tell them my request. I cannot write such a letter from inside the prison that would be approved by thehead of prison; so once again you have to suffer because of me. It isthe only thing that if even you beg for it I would not become upset although I have toldyou many times notto beg to save me from being executed.My kind mother, dear Sholeh, the one more dear to me than my life, I don’t want to rot under the soil. I don’t want my eye or my young heart to turn into dust. Beg so that it is arranged that as soon as I am hanged my heart, kidney, eye, bones and anything that can be transplantedbe taken away frommy body and given to someone who needs them as a gift. I don’t want the recipient know my name, buy me abouquet, or even pray for me. I am telling you from the bottom of my heart that I don’t want to have a grave for you to come and mourn there and suffer. I don’t want you to wear black clothing for me. Do your best to forget my difficult days. Give me to the wind to take away.The world did not love us. It did not want my fate. And now I am giving in to it and embrace the death. Because in the court of God I will charge the inspectors, I will charge inspector Shamlou, I will charge judge, and the judges of country’s Supreme Court that beat me up when I was awake and did not refrain from harassing me. In the court of the creator I will chargeDr. Farvandi, I will charge Qassem Shabani and all those that out of ignorance or with their lies wronged me and trampled on my rights and didn’t pay heed to the fact that sometimes what appears as reality isdifferent from it.Dear soft-hearted Sholeh, in the otherworld it is you and me who are the accusers and otherswho are the accused. Let’s see what God wants. I wanted to embrace you until I die. I love you.Reyhaneh
Posted on: Wed, 29 Oct 2014 09:18:25 +0000
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