“The Islamic Republic owes this woman a normal life that she stole,” comments Afsoon Najafi, in reaction to the announcement of the Nobel Peace Prize awarded to Iranian activist Narges Mohammadi this Friday, October 6. “I hope that this Nobel Prize will be a balm to the heart of Narges Mohammadi, so that she knows that her courage is on everyone’s lips, that all Iranians are behind her, that her name is known to everyone. I hope this award will give it strength.” She herself has been the victim of repressive measures by the Iranian regime since the death of her sister, Hadis Najafi, during the protest movement which has engulfed Iran since September 2022.
“I spoke with my father this morning. Law enforcement called my family to inform them that two other bodies would be buried alongside my sister. They say we only bought one level of the tomb. They want the tombstone to be divided into three, so that the tomb is no longer dedicated to my sister,” continues Afsoon, whose voice, firm despite a slight cough, resonates on the other end of the phone. “It’s a way of intimidating us, of humiliating us.”
Over the past year, the grave of his sister, Hadis Najafi, has become a symbol and the rallying point for numerous demonstrations. It is also the place of contemplation for a family for whom the tragedy of a year ago was the beginning of a long descent into hell.
On the night of September 22 to 23, 2022, Hadis Najafi died after receiving six lead bullets, fired from a hunting rifle. She participated, like thousands of Iranians, in a demonstration in honor of Mahsa Jîna Amini, who died a week earlier after being arrested by the morality police for her improperly worn veil. Hadis, a young blonde woman active on social networks, is immediately made a new martyr of the protest movement.
“As soon as he was buried, surveillance cameras were installed on his grave,” continues Afsoon. “We were only allowed to pray at the cemetery for thirty minutes at the end of the week, on Thursday and Friday. We were escorted by car by the police, and brought back as soon as half an hour was up.”
In Iran, three dates mark the death: the third day and the seventh day, private ceremonies attended only by the family, and the fortieth day, which in Iran is called the “Chehellom” ceremony, where friends and relatives are invited .
“The day before the fortieth day, my other sister Chirine and I were taken to the intelligence center in Karaj,” a suburb west of Tehran where the Najafi family lives, and where Hadis was killed. The intelligence services prevent them from leaving and attending the last funeral rite of their younger sister. “We had to negotiate, and we ended up giving them our Instagram account IDs,” says Afsoon.
Also read: “Mahsa Amini, martyr of obscurantism”
On “Chehellom” day, the family is escorted by the police. Barriers were erected around the cemetery to prevent any gathering, but demonstrators managed to dismantle them. A crowd gathers, and Afsoon’s father is immediately taken away for questioning. Chirine and their little brother received numerous buckshot shots, their mother received baton blows.
Hadis Najafi’s “Chehellom”, just one week after that of Mahsa Jîna Amni, provoked a nationwide protest movement. Rallies took place in several cities across the country, and two young men were arrested and then executed for having participated.
The intelligence services are not content with monitoring the young woman’s tomb. “Since his death, we have been placed under constant surveillance,” continues Afsoon. She describes the two cars parked, one in front of their house, the other at the end of the street, in order to monitor their comings and goings. “Sometimes they came into our house” to have tea and eat some cakes.
“They were very polite, very civil. They had a particular way of speaking, very sophisticated,” describes Afsoon, for whom these visits become synonymous with growing psychological terror. “They told us, ‘you have already lost a sister, you should think about the next member of your family who could disappear’”, a barely veiled threat against the youngest of the family, only 19 years old at the time of the facts. The young man ended up being kidnapped by the intelligence services, Afsoon says, and was only saved by vigilant neighborhood members who noted the car’s license plate and the identity of his captor, allowing his family to trace him. find.
Soon, the head of the intelligence services of the town of Karaj began to call them regularly, almost every day: “we were like their goddaughters, he called us to find out how we were doing.”
Also read Death of Mahsa Amini: demonstrations beyond borders
Chirine and Afsoon, who continue to speak out on social networks by systematically deleting their messages, are regularly taken to the intelligence services center for questioning. “There was never a written summons” because “they didn’t want there to be proof.” No arrest warrant, no formal summons.
After a summary trial completed in less than two hours, the two sisters received a 25-year prison sentence for having “incited young people to fight against Islam and the regime”. They are released “provisionally”, while waiting for the missing documents in the file, they are told. They are then forced to attend ten sessions with a psychologist in the cell of the Karaj intelligence service. “These sessions were another way of exercising control over us,” recalls Afsoon.
The Najafi family attempts to file a complaint against the police, but it is forcibly withdrawn. “That’s when I did my research, and learned that outside the country I could try to bring to justice those responsible for Hadis’ death,” Afsoon relates, who then decides to leave. She has not received a formal ban on leaving the country, and thinks she can try her luck.
“I had just gotten divorced. I applied to obtain a new independent passport (because once married, Iranian women’s passports depend on those of their husbands, Editor’s note), and I took a plane ticket to Turkey,” recalls the young woman of 32 years old. The regime knows that she wants to leave the territory, but does not prevent her.
Since his departure, Afsoon has continued to campaign, and remains in contact with his family, even if it is sometimes difficult for him to communicate with them. Two weeks ago, on the anniversary of her sister’s death, her family was placed in detention for two days to prevent any calls for a rally. Their identity papers and phones were seized. During interrogations, they asked her relatives for Afsoon’s number, her address, and warned them that if she ever returned to Iran one day, she would be executed, for having posted messages on social networks to against the supreme leader, Ali Kahemei.
Afsoon does not lose hope. “I continue to campaign in the same way as in Iran. I wasn’t afraid there and I’m not afraid here. Through international tribunals, I hope to be able to convict the real culprits. They cannot continue to live as if nothing had happened.”
In the meantime, the Iranian regime continues its persecution against other young girls, like Armita Garavand, a 16-year-old Iranian girl who was assaulted in the metro for her refusal to wear the veil on October 1.