TOlessia Piperno, since her return to Italy after her imprisonment in Iran, had not written anything about hers Instagram profileused by travel blogger just like travel notebook on which to tell day by day what happened to her in each new goal she reached.
Alessia Piperno returns to write about Iran
And she had also done so when she was in Tehran, up until the moment she was arrested it is still unknown for whatif not for his alleged participation in the freedom protests that erupted in the country afterwards the death of Mahsa Aminathe young woman killed for a lock of hair that protruded from the veil.
For the traveller, obviously, now is the time to put black and white some of his reflections on those dramatic moments lived, in a flow of words with which to share states and emotions experienced when she was completely alone in one of the toughest prisons in all of Iran.
Alesia Piperno has returned to writing on her Instagram profile. She hadn’t done it again
A past still too present
And so Piperno recounts some details of his experiencein a mix of recent and past memories, current affairs and history.
«In the first days of September, I went to visit a prison in Tehran for the first time in my life. It was the prison of Ebrat, which has now become a museum, but was once used by the Savak secret police to torture detainees. “The screams of the prisoners could be heard throughout the prison,” my guide told me. “Are there still such prisons in Iran?”. I asked. He sighed. “Sadly yes, Evin Prisonwhich is located right in the northern part of Tehran”.
I felt shivers run all over my body, without remotely imagining that 21 days later, I too would have been a prisoner, right in that prison».
The captivity and the terror of never going out again
Instead, the girl stays in that prison for 45 days, an eternity of time and terror due to the uncertainty of what could have happened and which fortunately didn’t happen.
“We had done nothing to deserve to be locked up within those walls, e I can’t deny that those were the hardest days of my life. I have seen, experienced and heard things, which I will never forget, and which will one day give me the strength to fight alongside the Iranian people.
At the time, I hadn’t participated in the protests, because it had been advised against us, and the sound of gunfire scared me. It’s different now. I’m at home, among my family and friends, free yes, but physically. It’s my mind that isn’tbecause my cellmates and thousands of other Iranians are still locked up in that corner of hell».
The memories that haunt Alessia Piperno
Experiences of this kind leave a marked mark and Piperno tells it as best he can: «I have returned to a normal life, I go out, sometimes I laugh, I make plans for my future, and I sleep in a bed. Today is Monday, today in prison we take a shower. Tomorrow is Tuesday, there are 5 minutes of air. My mind now lives a bit like this, between smiles, in a soft bed, a plate of pasta and between white walls where the screams never stop and where the air is breathed for 5 minutes, twice a week».
The cellmate who never came back from the infirmary
The posts published are two and the second is dedicated to his cell mate for 34 days, Fahimeh Karimi, sentenced to death for kicking a pasdaran. This story too it’s a punch in the stomach for those who watch what happens over there from their sofa at home, separated from that violence and suffering by miles and a TV screen.
«You are as white as that wall, it will be that by dint of looking at it, it ate your breaths. We’re hidden in a blind spot here, your screams are like the silence, you slam the door and step on your own tears. “AZADI! AZADI!” I sing you Bella bye, and you start crying, other times you clap my hands. I would like to tell you more, but what can I tell you? I’m scared, too.“Fatimah, Athena, Mohammed”. You keep yelling your children’s namesDid they hear your echo or does love not travel through bars?
They open that door because you make too much noise, but we are lifeless flesh, and they crush us like dry leaves, listen, they have no heart. You throw yourself on the ground with your head in your hands, press your fingers against your temples, you want to tear your thoughts away from your ears, they’re quicksand, I know it well. Tomorrow is a new day, maybe we’ll be free, even if yes, you’re right, I told you yesterday too. Here comes the pill that will sing us a lullaby, I take your hand, that’s the little I can do, put my head under the blanket, at least the lights are off there, look at the sky, can you see the stars too? Good night Fahimeh».
Fahimeh was Piperno’s cellmate for 34 days. One day she left the cell to go to the infirmary, and never came back.
What is the use of fighting, what is the use of all this?
“We didn’t have great conversations since I didn’t speak Farsi and she didn’t speak English. But we were united by the same pain and fears. I’ve been looking up her name every day since I got back, to see if they’d released her too. Instead I was faced with an article with her face saying “sentenced to death”. What does it take to stop all this? What the fuck is it for?”
This is the question that haunts the girl pervaded by that sense of defeat and resignation that all Iranian protesters must experience every day on their way home, along with the hope of not being killed the next day.
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