Without Hesitation

One Voice Press 401 Greenleaf Avenue, Wilmette, Illinois 60091 Copyright © 2020 by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States All rights reserved. Published 2020 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper ∞ ISBN: 978-1-61851-190-4

Cover design by Carlos Esparza Book design by Patrick Falso

Contents Acknowledgments......................................................................................xi Translator’s Note..................................................................................... xiii 1 / My Childhood and General Thoughts on Imprisonment...................... 1 2 / Interrogation and Detention Period at the Iraqi General Security Directorate (Al-Amn).................................................................. 13 3 / Temporary Release and the Al-Zafaraniyyeh Detention Center........... 37 4 / More Time at Al-Zafaraniyyeh and Our Transfer to the Abu Ghraib Prison....................................................................................................... 71 5 / Memories of the Abu Ghraib Prison..................................................109 6 / Tears of Sorrow, Tears of Joy..............................................................145 7 / The Prisoners of Abu Ghraib Prison..................................................175 8 / Our Transfer to Al-Rashaad Prison....................................................217 9 / Al-Rashaad Prison, Visits from Officials, and Our Exclusion from the Pardoning Decree................................................................................... 249 10 / The Winds of Change and the Opening of the Cage Door............. 283 Afterword................................................................................................321

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1 / My Childhood and General Thoughts on Imprisonment I grew up in the old part of the city of Baghdad, which consisted of a cluster of narrow alleys connected to a main street crossing the city. These were curvy, depressing alleys with brick houses built in the old style. They had a central, open courtyard surrounded by a few rooms including a kitchen, basement, and a second floor where the bedrooms were connected to a woodcovered porch that sat above an open view of the courtyard. I remember that our home lacked the luxuries of modern homes. It was just like all the other old homes, including the blessed house of Bahá’u’lláh, which was in an alley on the other side of the Tigris River in the heart of Baghdad.

The courtyard in our house had a myrtle tree (or sometimes called “True Myrtle”), known for its fragrant white flowers. It was left to grow tall enough to reach the second floor and, later, the flat roof of the house where the family (like all others in Iraq) used to sleep under the open sky that was decorated by the moon and the stars during the summer and sometimes part of the late spring and early fall. That myrtle tree always reminded me of my love of nature. It had delicate, little white flowers whose penetrating fragrance I used to love. Sometimes I would pick them and place them in my dad’s collection of copper vases. Playtime with my friends involved imaginary characters such as a tall and terrifying genie from old tales told by our parents. The genie 1

WITHOUT HESITATION

would appear in the next alley when the sun set every evening. Sometimes after our play in the late afternoon, we would run home screaming out of fear of the genie and the ghosts chasing us. The old, crowded markets in the city were covered by a roof and had little natural light. Despite this, I enjoyed accompanying my father while he was shopping there, and I always felt a sense of freedom.

Just a short distance beyond the heart of the city, my family and I could see gardens and orchards surrounding Baghdad on nearly every side. To the North, toward Al-Athamiyyeh, there were orchards of citrus trees of all kinds, and to the south, towards the Al-Karradeh suburb, lay orchards of other types of fruits and palm trees. The soul-refreshing fragrance of the citrus tree blossoms constantly filled the air during the spring and summer. There was a garden across from the blessed Garden of Ri¤ván (where Bahá’u’lláh and His followers pitched their tents and collected piles of fragrant roses, and where the light of the Ancient Beauty shone, carrying a message of unity and love to all mankind). This other garden was designated for children and had a playground. When my family and I used to visit the Garden of Ri¤ván, I wanted to stay in that garden all day, as it gave me feelings of calmness, inner joy, and comfort. It meant running happily and freely and laughing far away from the depressing old alleys. However, my memories of our visits to the Garden of Ri¤ván also held different, conflicting emotions. Despite the beauty of the garden with all its citrus and palm trees, and the fragrance of the flowers and the refreshing breeze coming from the adjacent Tigris River, my state of mind was that of a little girl, who had been told by her father on cold nights plentiful stories about the martyrs who preceded the declaration of Bahá’u’lláh, about their suffering, their sacrifice, and the injustices inflicted on them and their families. Following those stories, my father would also tell us about the majestic spirt of those blessed days when the beloved followers were granted the bounty and experienced the ecstasy of His (Bahá’u’lláh’s) declaration in the Garden of Ri¤ván. My father described how their lengthy yearning was quenched by this joy, a joy that kept them awake all night along 2

1 / MY CHILDHOOD AND GENERAL THOUGHTS ON IMPRISONMENT

with the nightingales. We heard these and other stories about the suffering of Bahá’u’lláh and His blessed family and the ordeals that forced Him to leave society and travel to a secluded cave in Kurdistan, north of Iraq.

Najibiyyeh-Ri¤ván Garden

In addition to those memories, every time our family visited the Garden of Ri¤ván, we had to pass through the section where a hospital (Al-Majeediyyeh Hospital at that time) had been built. It occupied the main part of the garden.

This was the hospital where my dad used to take me every time I was sick, and I continued to visit doctors there when I was in my youth. In that blessed spot (the Garden of Ri¤ván), I experienced a diverse array of emotions, including a proud faith that evoked a desire to cry and also excitement as I sensed the glory and blessedness of that spot. These sentiments continued even later on, after I left prison and visited that blessed place. I would imagine the procession of the Blessed Beauty arriving at the garden, then Him inside the 3

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tent surrounded by the reverent believers, and the piles of roses around His blessed tent. At times, these images would blend with others of the doctors and nurses in their white coats moving around the Majeediyyeh Hospital, tending patients in wards by the tens or even hundreds sometimes. And the fragrance of the citrus blossoms in the garden of Ri¤ván would fuse with the smell of medications and sanitizers used at that hospital, bringing conflicting emotions of happiness and repulsion.

These feelings remained with me even when I gave birth to my firstborn son Abir at that same hospital, in that same blessed place of Bahá’u’lláh’s declaration as told to me by my father. The greatest happiness, my son’s birth, was mixed with those old emotions that I had carried with me since my childhood. The images of the procession of the Blessed Beauty leaving the garden—beginning His journey to exile in Turkey, with all the people mourning His departure, and some holding on to His horse’s reins and saying their farewell while He started that long and difficult journey—were on my mind.

Despite moving out of the old city area during my elementary school period, my fear of dark, narrow, and enclosed places continued. We had moved to a house on the Tigris River that had plenty of trees and birds that would not stop chirping and singing until the evening unless we banged on trays so they would calm down and rest. I fell in love with freedom; I adored nature in every meaning of the word. The trees were my loved ones and the river my best friend, just as later on I adored the sea in Alexandria, Egypt (where I continued my education). The sea was my lover, whom I cherished and feared. As time passed during my youth, I came to realize that freedom is part of this wonderful nature and that God created man free so he would enjoy all the blessings bestowed upon him.

After I finished my studies in Egypt and went back home to Baghdad, we built a new house surrounded by a beautiful garden that my husband lovingly cared for. We enjoyed its beautiful flowers and the shade of its trees where we often had our dinner and tea. I wish to share with you in this chapter what 4

1 / MY CHILDHOOD AND GENERAL THOUGHTS ON IMPRISONMENT

will hopefully help you imagine how difficult and oppressive the later imprisonment was for someone like me. I had to suppress my yearning for freedom, my love for nature, and the infinite love I had for my children—all of which penetrated every vein and cell in my body—and instead accept and submit to a bitter fate, deprived of all happiness and comforts. In addition, I had to exhibit utter bravery and strength and nurture a new attitude of sacrifice, contentment, and self-denial—all for a divine belief, the seeds of which had been planted in the very core of my being since childhood but which needed the right environment to grow and prosper.

While I was in prison, I had to resist emotionally breaking down and had to battle anxiety, depression, and even feelings of resentment for my captors. I had to fight every hostile thought that human dignity produces against abasement and humiliation, as my sister prisoners and I were living in a place governed by harsh rules and severe punishment. The guards and prison employees, who were nearly illiterate and who followed regulations to the letter, without any flexibility, even when the regulations were unreasonable, watched every move we made. Once I told one of the guards, who was about to lock the gate of our ward, to wait, as one of the prisoners assigned to bring food to the ward was about to return with lunch. I even pointed to that prisoner as she was approaching the gate.

The guard ignored my request and locked the gate anyway, laughing and saying that the motto here was “execute the task first, then question it.” The guards implemented the rules without exceptions, and we prisoners had to obey without question, even if the guard was ignorant and uneducated.

My aim is to gradually take you to the horrifying atmosphere of a prison.

Perhaps most of you have seen pictures or movies about prisons with cells that have metal bars, whether on one side or more, and those narrow hallways that divide the facing cells. Our prison—with its bars, narrow windows, and reinforced cement walls—was not much different from what you have seen.

Once, after our release from prison, I went to the zoo with my nephew.

I had not recognized prior to my release from prison the close resemblance 5

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