شاهدی برای عزت

A Witness for Ezzat

By Majid Naficy

The victors write history

But the witnesses arrive

With their piercing eyes

Which have seen everything.

I want to know what happened

On January 7, 1982

Half past one in the afternoon

In Evin Prison

Ward 246

Room #6

When Raheleh, the Islamic guard

Paged:

“Ezzat Tabaian with all of her belongings!

Ezzat Tabaian with all of her belongings!”

Ezzat took her empty bag

And stood at the door of the room.

She wore the same checkered shirt

Which she had at the dawn of September 19, 1981 

When she left me alone in bed

To go for a meeting

And then never returned.

Thirty weeping women circled around her

And sang with Parvin:

“Tonight I have a passion…”

Then Ezzat said:

“You sang your song

And shed your tears.

Could you now for my sake

Sing the “Whiz Whiz” Rhyme?”

Tears mingled with smiles.

They all clapped

And sang the “Bad Kid” Rhyme

Which starts with this stanza:

“One day I saw a kid

And was stunned on the spot.

She gulped down a bowl of soup:

Gulp, gulp”

And ended with this stanza:

“One night I woke suddenly

I saw a camel but was not scared

Yet it rained in my bed:

Whiz, whiz.”

Then the cellmates walked with the “bad kid”

To the door of the ward

And she went toward the field of her execution.

At seven o’clock in the evening

A barrage of bullets was heard

From the hills behind the Prison

Like the dropping of a load of iron.

Then the cellmates in the emptyness of their room

Counted the number of single shots

Which exceeded fifty.

They sobbed loudly.

My good Ezzat!

Get up! Get up!

Get up from the Cemetery of the Infidels!

A witness has arrived

Mitra, the Blue-Eyed,

Who carries your last gazes and words,

Kisses and steps

Like a jug of honey

On her shoulder.

Get up! Get up!

The witnesses write history.

The victors, no! 

The witnesses write history.

        June 11, 2020