Here is an excerpt from a poignant personal reflection by Naeim Tavakkoli, the full text of which you can find here:
“…I remember the time when I was involved in a hi-rise construction project which had a good view of Evin prison. As the building was going up, higher and higher, I was able to obtain a better view of that scary place. That is why today I can clearly remember the asymmetrical outline of Evin. It is the image I go to sleep with at night and wake up with in the morning, trying to picture my father inside it. I know what it looks like…
I remember nine months ago after that morning raid on my parents’ home, I was talking to my mother and I could feel she was shaking on the other side of the line as she was telling me about her conversation with one of the intelligence agents. She was packing a warm sweater for my father as they were taking him away, but the agent refused to allow my father to take that package, saying ‘he is not going to need clothing anymore, only a live person does!’
Now it has been more than nine months that my father has been in jail. It has been more than nine months that I have been working on that picture in my head, imagining my father’s situation. Once I had to paint him in solitary confinement, and in interrogation rooms. I have tried to picture him in a room sitting on a wooden stool for over 20 hours facing two intelligence agents filled with blind religious prejudice. I have moved my father in this picture from solitary confinement to the general ward. Then I moved him back to a small cell with no bed, not enough blankets, sleeping on a cold cement floor in Tehran’s cold winter with his four cell-mates. Now I am working on another corner of this big mental canvas. I am drawing a court. I cannot see a lawyer though. Probably they won’t have access to their lawyers.
Will I have to draw my father and his friends back into the prison after this court case? Will I have to move him around Evin prison in my imaginary drawing one more time? From solitary cells, to interrogation rooms, to torture benches, to larger cells with his friends with him?
When I look more carefully at this big unpleasant picture there is another section in this prison which I can see, with wooden posts or steel posts. And steel rafters. And hand-operated cranes. And hoisting machines. And ropes!
My mind won’t let me move my father and his friends to that corner.”
Please contact your elected officials and help raise awareness amongst your own friends and family members. Hopefully our collective action can assist Naeim’s father and his friends.




