When I was jailed in Iraq (II)
on my first day in prison, my unique car was impounded and i noticed that the director of the safwan center was fascinated by it. i saw him looking at it from time to time. i was taken in a military vehicle to basra, and in the prison office the charge against me was determined as ‘spy for israel’ without investigation, interrogation or trial.
after that, as i was being taken to the prison i kept walking the streets of basra, without handcuffs or even guards. i walked for half a kilometer that took me through the dense markets and pictures of me were taken to be put in my fi le as a prisoner, because there was no photographer or in the minus one-star prison.
i used my ghutra to cover my face except my eyes and neither he nor the policeman who was escorting me objected because of the lack of validity of the picture originally for an israeli spy, but this always happened in the countries with oldest civilizations. i was then transferred to the prison cell awaiting the intelligence report and then being brought to trial.
during my blessed stay in the cell it distinguished by dirt and overcrowded with dozens of prisoners. there, i made friendship with two kurdish brothers and their kindness had the most impact on me, and the relief for my suffering, perhaps because of their sincere feeling that i was oppressed, and that i did not belong to that place.
because the cell was too narrow, we used to sleep while sitting and i and the two kurdish friends were leaning against each other, sleeping was almost impossible. there is no doubt that everyone in that cell died in one way or another in the iraq of blessed revolutions.
after the coup d’etat of july 14, 1958, no ruler in iraq had mercy in heart or minds. i still regret that i did not ask for the names of my kurdish friends, and i do not think they are paying attention to me anymore. from my conversations with the inmates of the cell, i noticed that all of them were caught up in the idea of death, and that it could happen to them at any moment because there is no justice expected from unfair ruler and inhuman treatment.
a majority of the prisoners claimed to be innocent, but their features did not say so, and i have no doubt that they were mostly victims of their communities and the harsh conditions of their lives.
the experience of the prison taught me how much dear is our homeland, and how much we are distinguished by our system of government, despite everything we write and what we complain about and defi le and protest, all of this is not a feeling of injustice, of course, but a hope for a better and beautiful homeland.
