The woman on the ground being dragged is Delaram Ali, a member of the One Million Signature Campaign for human rights for women in Iran. I blogged about her yesterday. She has been sentenced to more than two years in prison and 10 lashes for her part in this powerful and peaceful protest, which commanded the respect and attention of the entire world. She is 23, a social worker, and has been an activist for women’s and children’s rights in Iran.
Lamenting a Dream
Friday 2 November 2007
By: Delaram Ali*
Translated by: Sussan Tahmasebi
These days it seems that our writings have been transformed into lamentations, for an elegy which you have created for us—lamentations for Zeinab, Nahid, Mahboubeh, Bahareh, Amir and now for Ronak.
What have you done to us? What have you done that has transformed the ring of the telephone into an alarm of danger? What have you done to transform the sound of the door bell into a fear of the repetition of nightmares of the past?
My Brother, do you know that these days I have a dream. I dream that a few of us have gathered in a small park, I am not sure where, and we are engaged in conversation so that perhaps we can convince one of the passersby to sign our petition. The guard at the park approaches us, and when he reaches us he offers us tea. When I wake the lamentation remains, but has been transformed into a dream. The truth is that this time a young woman is imprisoned, someone who lives in another city, her words are warm and sweet and without reservation, and her accent is colored by resistance. Her mother says that they have stormed and searched their home. She says that these days she has heard only ill words from you. She says that you have taken the signatures that Ronak had in their home. Thank you. I hope that you will receive your due reward in this effort.
The reward is great, remember not to settle for less than its worth. For each of the signatures you have claimed, much energy has been expended. At least 15-30 minutes for each signature. You do the math, I just don’t want to us to feel indebted to you.
By the way, I just wanted to mention before you turn in the signatures at least take a look at them. Perhaps in their midst you will find the name of your wife, or sister, your mother or daughter. You see awareness spreads in this way. Now you should go and arrest your own daughter, condemn your wife to the home, chastise your sister and mother. My brother, we have moved beyond these tactics, the seeds have been sown, and no doubt they will bear fruit, the sweetness of which we will taste for years to come.
My brother, this time when you return to your office, look through the signatures to see whose names will be make into the pages of history. Believe me, history is not marked by nor does it cease to exist with your desk drawer nor the paper files which make up the cases against us.