The Last Meeting with Loghman and Zanyar in Behesht-e Zahra

Bahman Ahmadi Amouei

Loghman’s mother scratched her so much that you could see fingernail lines all over her face. Her daughter holding under her arm and both crying. Sadness covered all over them. I do not believe this is Loghman’s little sister. His brother is head down in sadness in another corner. They just arrived this morning from Marivan. The family and their lawyers had been going from one room to another in prosecutor’s office since this morning. The idea that Loghman and Zanyar are executed is very difficult for them to believe, and they say to themselves that they need to see their bodies to believe it. Past experience shows that after the execution, there is no news of the meeting with the corpses, nor the burial address is given to families. However, hope continued to flicker.

At 11 am, Saleh Nikbakht, a lawyer, announced that the family had been allowed to visit the bodies of their beloved ones at Behesht-e Zahra’s mortuary. I’ve arrived earlier than others. It’s noon and several families are waiting for the burial ceremonies of their loved ones. The sound of crying and groaning was heard from the corners. The loudspeaker, once a while, reads the name of the dead and asked the family to go to identify them.

I said to myself that they would read the name of Loghman and Zanyar in the same manner. I never imagined looking for Loghman and Zanyar in such a place. We were all together for two and a half years, day and night. I remembered Loghman’s warm laughter, a laugh as wide as his face. He was few years older than Zanyar and was caring for him more than an older brother. He would set the food and call him: Dear Zanyar come and let’s eat bread.

I went to Behesht-e Zahra Statistics Center and asked. The person sitting behind the computer said that we do not have such names in the system. They were not on the list of buried ones in the previous days. I said to myself, we were deceived again. Diar, Zanyar’s brother, said sadly: I had an anonymous phone call. They told me to go to Beheshti Zahra. A number of former Loghman and Zanyar jail mates have come as well. Each of Behesht-e Zahra personal says something. Saleh Nikbakht went to a room. After a few minutes, Diar, and Zanyar’s brother went to the room after him. Four security officers met with some of Behest-e Zahra’s officials. After an hour of uncertainty, it was announced that it is possible for close relative to see the bodies of Loghman and Zanyar. But on the condition that neither the image nor the film is taken. They said they were not allowed to cry or mourn loudly.

A few hours past and now Behesht-e Zahra has been closed and all its employees have gone. The large funeral parlor is so quiet that a sound travels to the other side. I feel empty. Several of us, former Zanyar and Loghman jail mates are waiting in a corner. At one point it seems to us that the promises made to visit Loghman and Zanyar are not real. Loghman’s mother comes out of the building in a hurry and rushes under the burning sun. She is cold and her body shakes. She regularly requests help to let her see her son.

They call the first family members. We rush to the door. They stop us. They cover the windows with a few cloths and banners. It is half an hour that the corpses of Loghman and Zanyar are in the same room, and the families are moaning over their bodies in silence. Finally, Loghman’s mother sees her son in the shroud, but Zanyar mother is not there to see her son for the last time, instead aunt and uncle and brother Zanyar’s brother visit his body.

Someone, with a blue suit that buttoned his shirt all the way to the top, says something and the rest will execute his orders. It’s as if he is their boss. Saleh Nikbakht says to him, “Now that they are still not buried, let’s take them to their village, 40 km from Marivan. It is very difficult for the family to come to Tehran. Consider their situation. “

The same person says: I must speak to the prosecutor. They will be in the morgue for a few days. If they accept, they will be transferred there. If not, we bury them in here in Behesht-e Zahra and let you know their buried location. The sound of crying and groping increases. Families get out of the room from other side. The hot summer sun shines and the cry is loud. They place the bodies on back of a truck and leave k. Othman, Loghman’s father, has been crushed and his status became smaller than ever. He cries loudly and says I’m sad that I could not do anything for them. Those who were holding their cry, started crying. Loghman’s sister clings to her face and mumble over her mother and kisses her. Zanyar and Loghman are the only words that I understand in their cries.

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