Bündnis internationaler Produktionshäuser

I have been wanting to write a text about this „object“ for a long time. This thing, which I don’t know exactly what to call it, is two pieces of cloth that have been sewn together in a boring and dirty way. The nature and structure of its constituents have no clear relation to its complex function. Contrary to its simplicity, this object is the strongest tool of torture in Iran’s prisons. In this text, I will try to avoid details about „me“ as much as possible. What happened to me, the number of people, places, hours and feelings and personal experiences will be completely removed from this writing. The general personal narrative is as follows: eleven intelligence agents entered my house in a unique way. They confiscated all my electronic devices. After a long time of searching the house and interrogating and recording all night with a camera hanging around one of their necks, I was directly transferred to Evin prison. From before I entered Evin prison until the last moment I was there, this „thing“ we call the blindfold was with me every moment. This headline is a short summary of what happened. Without any details or description of what happened. This text is not about what happened to me. Not even about myself or the others who were there. The attempt is to focus on the lesson I learned from this experience instead of a personal narrative. Because describing and narrating a story is a very complex and multifaceted task. Reviewing prison memories is a very personal thing. But what has settled down from all the experiences and narratives is a collective lesson that addresses everyone. It is about „us“.

I want to write a little about the function of this item (blindfold). What it is and what it is designed for. Because few of us have shared a common experience with a blindfold during our lifetime on this planet. Talking about this requires a little  introduction.

In the department of political prisoners in Iran, the blindfold is one of the most important tasks. They press the political prisoner’s head under his feet and order him not to raise his head until the end of the journey. A hand is always on our head to take even the thought of seeing out of our head. From this moment on, we realize that we have entered a world with a new set of rules that none of us are familiar with. We are cut off from our familiar world. The experience of fear has begun. After entering the prison, you will change your clothes. The only signs that are left with me from the outside world will be removed from my body. By this means, my world will be completely empty of familiar signs. I will have no reason to recover my former self. When we put on the prison clothes, there will be no sign of „me“ anymore. For those who locked us up, I become a part of „them“. For the jailers and interrogators, my individual identity will be completely lost. I become part of rioters, rioters and criminals. Our faces are covered by blindfolds and our bodies are covered in the same gray clothes. The interrogator sees a group of us. Individuality has been killed. There is no reason for us to recognize ourselves. A noticeable change has happened: I don’t know myself anymore! Over time, I will lose my image. Because there is no mirror to see our face in all the time. All the signs that remind me have been removed from my body and there is nothing left to remind me that I was who I was! In a more precise language, „I“ will become an illusion in our thoughts. Here are the signs of a eloquent lunatic: I am someone  else!

From the moment we put on loose prison clothes, the function of the blindfold is evident. We are not going to see and  recognize the architectural space. Blindfold is the beginning of darkness. The only image we will see from now on is our feet in plastic slippers that are not our size or have not found their pair. The steps that are taken out of fear. You are allowed to see  your skinny leg walking so you don’t fall. You will see your hands in the interrogation sessions where you sit at the table so that you can confess and write. In the background of our hands and feet in the picture, we will see vague and transient signs of the cold and stone space where we move. In these corridors, you meet other prisoners or pass by them and feel their presence. People like you. Let’s say you yourself. in prison in fear in the black There are times when you put your right hand on the shoulder of the person in front. So are they. A line of „us“ connected in the form of a train with our hands. We are moving  towards unknown places and destinies with short steps. No words have been exchanged between us and we have not even
recognized each other as individuals. Our connection is only a hand pressed on the front shoulder that cries or trembles. as a sign of presence As a sign of consolation, sympathy. short consolation. Under this blindfold, we have not only forgotten  ourselves, but it is also difficult to recognize others. Differences have been minimized, identities have been erased and we have become us, and from the point of view of those who saw us, we must have „done something“.

We cried under these two pieces of cloth. Under this cloth, we remembered the faces of our mothers. We met our lovers, our homes, our friends and acquaintances under this cloth. We jumped from memory to memory and remembered everything. In interrogations with each question, the volume of layers of images under the same fabric. We confessed under this blindfold. to actions done or not done. We lied under this. We were humiliated in the deep blackness that spread before our eyes. We were beaten or threatened. As they say, we broke under this blindfold. We filled the white papers with the handwriting of our frog crab. we wrote As much as we could as much as we had to. Like now that my inner compulsion pushes me to write these. Under the blindfold, however, coercion came from outside. With a voice that dictated and was in a hurry to execute his order
by us.

Now we have reached the place we were supposed to reach. I want to explain how I endured the torture. What is the method and most importantly what is the lesson of this experience. The topic of discussion is duality. Duals and their transformations. Let’s call it the duality of „defect and possibility“. At the time of writing, I travel to the present. now. I am typing here lying on my elbow. Now that I’m out Not where I said. I did not see I see now. What remains is an image of duality. There are many examples. Harassment and ointment. Failure and success. bad and good Damage and treatment. Blind and sighted.

The blindfold killed something in us. A nameless thing that we gave different names to. Each of us made a meaning for that nameless dead. I made a „we“ out of this nameless thing. Because my individuality died. killed. When there is death, the size of my right hand extended from my right side, when it is standing, then its double must have been born. Death creates life. Without wanting to. Because my cell mate is no more, I know that something was born in parallel. Part of me died under the black blindfold. They had intended the same. But there is something they don’t know. It is true: there is a corpse in the middle in the metaphor. But in the language of meaning, the name of that corpse is not the same in their minds and ours. I made life out of death. They had planned to kill „life“. The game was reversed. Light was born from darkness. They assumed in their heads that they turned off the stupid light. The result was the death of „me“ and the birth of „us“. A magical construct of turning torture into healing. The magic of creative imagination.

In various examples of ancient forms of healing, the blindfold is a therapeutic tool. A tool to face the inside. Ancient healers,
shamans of different regions, used blindfold and imagination together as a physical and independent method for treatment. There are similar methods in psychotherapy, energy therapy and even forms of art therapy. Creating a space to limit the entrances in order to face the information and internal images. In general, there are many examples that are not the work of this text. What is there that can be emphasized is the possibilities that are created from limitations. As I said, the signs of individuality are removed from us. In prison, because of the blindfold, we forgot ourselves and our fears became us. But on the other hand, we have to remember ourselves. Everything we were and have done. So against that effort to make us equal, each of us strongly reclaimed our individuality. Under this blindfold, I understood who I was and what I had done. But in another direction. Those of us did not regret what we did, we returned home with a great achievement. We passed the difficult path of meeting our truth through a painful shortcut. We started life anew. We migrated or not. We came out of the previous work. We started a new work. The previous relationships ended and we found new friends. No matter what we did after this experience, we were never the same. I personally took this as a good omen. I was tired of the old me. I wanted to grow and I couldn’t. Maybe after this experience I shed the old skin and started rebuilding a new personality with new standards. The criterion for building a new building was „learning politeness from rude people“. Everything they do is forbidden for me. It was the same under that blindfolded darkness. The space was darkened to create fear. What could be seen in the blackness was a light of courage, rising from here and there of doubles.