It was May Day, the first of May, International Workers’ Day. I was there to report on the rally of the workers of the Syndicate of Tehran and Suburbs Bus Company (SWTSBC). It was about noon, and the crowd kept growing; citizens, workers’ families, and students. A young, bearded man with long hair took pictures and videos in the middle of the crowd.
While some people were joining and others leaving, the riot police arrived with Commander Ghodratollah Mahmoudi, the same commander in charge of the riot police who clashed with protesters at the rally of March 8th in front of The City Theatre. People started to spread out, and the undercover forces increased in numbers. A few of them gathered around the young man and pulled him towards one of the gray cars. As the young man struggled to pull himself towards the rest of the crowd, the undercover forces beat him up with a baton, and hit him with pepper spray. I watched all of this from the window of a gray car. It was only a few minutes prior that one of the undercovers had pulled my arm and taken my phone, and now I watched the scene sitting in the gray car and sharing a handcuff with Abdolreza Tarazi, who, I later found out, was a member of the syndicate.
They took us to the Niloufar Police Station for Interrogations and to press familiar charges. We saw Ebrahim Madadi in the middle of the chaos, calmly explaining his civil rights. Ebrahim Madadi is the Vice President of the Workers’ Union of the Tehran and Suburbs Bus Company, a labor activist and political prisoner.
The young man with the long hair and now ripped clothes was taken to a room. It did not take long before he started screaming, and a little later the door opened, and a soldier walked out of the room, taking the baton that was on the table and walking back into the room. Ebrahim Madadi continued talking: “a few nights ago, Mr. Dorri was on the TV saying: ‘we hope the police treat the citizens well.’” 10 minutes later the young man, barely able to walk, was brought out of the room.
In the middle of the night, at the detention center of the security police, I woke up from a few hours of quiet sleep. The young man sat down beside me, and we talked. I learned his name: Keyvan Rafiee. Later, when we were released, I came to know that he was the director of the “Human Rights Activists (HRA),” and he found out that I was the director of the Committee of Human Rights Reporters (CHRR) in Iran.
In the spring of 2006, I met Keyvan a couple of times at coffee shops and among common friends. He was later arrested, imprisoned and eventually left the country. We were always somehow in contact because of work, and he sometimes read my blog. Nevertheless, I followed HRANA due to the scope of my work. At many levels, HRANA along with CHRR were the most critical sources documenting the human rights violations in Iran. Both organizations started news reporting agencies as weblogs, and it took months before they became proper websites. HRA, just like any other organization, has had its share of ups and downs during all these years. They, like so many groups, dealt with many difficulties in Iran’s atmosphere: pressures, threats and security lockdowns and suppressions. Many of the HRA members were arrested and received long prison sentences during the fall and winter of 2009-2010. The peaceful practice of the right to defend human rights as a civil action has always come at a high cost. We need not forget Keyvan’s continuous efforts to maintain an organized effort and to increase the output on human rights. Thanks to the many years of work in human rights, HRA now has the vastest infrastructure in disseminating information and news among the media and activist groups of Iran. The continuation of a team effort towards Iran’s transition to democracy should be taken positively.
In the hope of many more anniversaries and valuable achievements.