I wanted to say that I have not been martyred, yet! by XXX
No! it's not like I am craving to be martyred nor do I have an itch to experience the injustice center of Evin prison. No! how can I say it? for example it was the day after Sohrab was martyred when my mom asked us to go to his mom's house to say our condolences
....
A touching diary / blog from a participant in the grass root green movement.
I wanted to say that I have not been martyred, yet!
I guess I am smiling...there is no room for laughter. These days whenever I come back from a gathering, while I have a hard time breathing because of the tear gas and fire and smoke and raw violence gripping the whole city, it's as if my brain has been cooked. Then I quench my thirst, take a cold shower, get on the roof and shout, and while the city goes to sleep, it's time for me to start crying. I cry for having come back safe and sound!
No! it's not like I am craving to be martyred nor do I have an itch to experience the injustice center of Evin prison. No! how can I say it? for example it was the day after Sohrab was martyred when my mom asked us to go to his mom's house to say our condolences. We went there and sat outside the building in front of her house. We sang and chanted and lit candles. Finally his mom came out. She asked us to leave because she was worried about our safety. My mom went forward and gave her condolences. I didn't move from where I was sitting. On the way back my mom asked me why I didn't go forward and I responded: "how could I? how could I look into her eyes? what could I even say to her? that I am sorry that Sohrab is gone and I am still here? No mom! I couldn't. It's too much of an embarrassment for me to take". My mom nudged me saying: "you don't need to be embarrassed. You haven't been idly sitting home! weren't you a 100 meters away when Neda was shot? you just got lucky!" I asked: "who got lucky? me or her? is this being lucky or unlucky?" My mom put her head down and didn't say a word.
These are strange days, very strange. The things we have seen during these days...how can I say it...we have learned to cut our thoughts and emotions into pieces and parts. We have learned that at exactly 10:00 p.m. it's time scream and to shout and to pour out our anger. And later it's time to cry for the people we know and those we don't know; only because it's time to cry and it's time for headaches. There is something strange on how we read and read and we have this thirst for reading to find out what we need to do the next day and how we should do it; it's because we don't have a leader and we are our own leaders. We don't just read the news. We read novels, stories, drama, history...we read whatever comes our way. We read about Czechoslovakia and Greece and Chile and our own history; we read about the 1970s movement in France; we read about anything that we can use the next day; and then the hardest part of life begins. We get scared. Really scared. We get scared thinking about the next day when we have to take to the streets. No we are not afraid of dying; nor are we afraid to get beaten or get injured; we are only scared of two things: one is to see things that will turn into nightmares and second is to get captured...but when the next day arrives, we go; and then there is no sign of anger or sadness or analysis nor fear; we just have to be in the streets; we just have to peacefully wait.
All verbs have been turned into "first person plural" because we all think alike and feel alike. It's strange. This is the most joyous and yet the strangest part of the whole thing. It's like we have conquered our own city again after centuries. It's the feeling of "Tehran is now my city and it's people are my people again...it's our city again!" and this is wonderful. When I walk in the city, I find myself smiling for no reason. Yes there are about 10,000 evil minded people here but we are in millions and we are all together in this. This is our city and they are nothing...you know how kind people are with each other these days? We are all like a big family!
I don't know how we got to be so separated and isolated in the first place! do you? we were so isolated from each other for so many years while we were so much alike throughout! but I know one thing: Nothing is like before and nothing will ever be like before again. I don't want to say we have woken up. We were never asleep. But we have found each other and we believe in ourselves. Can you believe it? our isolated and lost people have found each other again?! sigh! there is so much to say. Even if I write a hundred times what I just wrote, it's still nothing. So forget it: I just wanted to say I am still here! how about you?
XXX
....
A touching diary / blog from a participant in the grass root green movement.
I wanted to say that I have not been martyred, yet!
I guess I am smiling...there is no room for laughter. These days whenever I come back from a gathering, while I have a hard time breathing because of the tear gas and fire and smoke and raw violence gripping the whole city, it's as if my brain has been cooked. Then I quench my thirst, take a cold shower, get on the roof and shout, and while the city goes to sleep, it's time for me to start crying. I cry for having come back safe and sound!
No! it's not like I am craving to be martyred nor do I have an itch to experience the injustice center of Evin prison. No! how can I say it? for example it was the day after Sohrab was martyred when my mom asked us to go to his mom's house to say our condolences. We went there and sat outside the building in front of her house. We sang and chanted and lit candles. Finally his mom came out. She asked us to leave because she was worried about our safety. My mom went forward and gave her condolences. I didn't move from where I was sitting. On the way back my mom asked me why I didn't go forward and I responded: "how could I? how could I look into her eyes? what could I even say to her? that I am sorry that Sohrab is gone and I am still here? No mom! I couldn't. It's too much of an embarrassment for me to take". My mom nudged me saying: "you don't need to be embarrassed. You haven't been idly sitting home! weren't you a 100 meters away when Neda was shot? you just got lucky!" I asked: "who got lucky? me or her? is this being lucky or unlucky?" My mom put her head down and didn't say a word.
These are strange days, very strange. The things we have seen during these days...how can I say it...we have learned to cut our thoughts and emotions into pieces and parts. We have learned that at exactly 10:00 p.m. it's time scream and to shout and to pour out our anger. And later it's time to cry for the people we know and those we don't know; only because it's time to cry and it's time for headaches. There is something strange on how we read and read and we have this thirst for reading to find out what we need to do the next day and how we should do it; it's because we don't have a leader and we are our own leaders. We don't just read the news. We read novels, stories, drama, history...we read whatever comes our way. We read about Czechoslovakia and Greece and Chile and our own history; we read about the 1970s movement in France; we read about anything that we can use the next day; and then the hardest part of life begins. We get scared. Really scared. We get scared thinking about the next day when we have to take to the streets. No we are not afraid of dying; nor are we afraid to get beaten or get injured; we are only scared of two things: one is to see things that will turn into nightmares and second is to get captured...but when the next day arrives, we go; and then there is no sign of anger or sadness or analysis nor fear; we just have to be in the streets; we just have to peacefully wait.
All verbs have been turned into "first person plural" because we all think alike and feel alike. It's strange. This is the most joyous and yet the strangest part of the whole thing. It's like we have conquered our own city again after centuries. It's the feeling of "Tehran is now my city and it's people are my people again...it's our city again!" and this is wonderful. When I walk in the city, I find myself smiling for no reason. Yes there are about 10,000 evil minded people here but we are in millions and we are all together in this. This is our city and they are nothing...you know how kind people are with each other these days? We are all like a big family!
I don't know how we got to be so separated and isolated in the first place! do you? we were so isolated from each other for so many years while we were so much alike throughout! but I know one thing: Nothing is like before and nothing will ever be like before again. I don't want to say we have woken up. We were never asleep. But we have found each other and we believe in ourselves. Can you believe it? our isolated and lost people have found each other again?! sigh! there is so much to say. Even if I write a hundred times what I just wrote, it's still nothing. So forget it: I just wanted to say I am still here! how about you?
XXX