A Letter to a Former Friend

On the second day of Operation Valfajr 10 (also known as Operation Dawn 10), as fresh fighters came to replace those who had fought for 48 hours straight, the air above the Khormal road was full of smoke, preventing the Sokho fighter planes from attacking us. Our faces either blackened from soot or made so deliberately, but we Basijis could still recognize one another at night. Most of us still teenagers, we were exhausted from days of fighting the Iraqis. Resting beside the road, we waited for the truck to come and pick us up.

I turned to the fighter next to me and asked if he had water. He gave me his gourd to drink from. As I got the water, I noticed his lips, chapped raw from thirst. I asked him: "What about you?" He said he was not thirsty and that I should drink the water. I asked him what his name was. Mojtaba, he replied. He said he was from Tehran.

I didn’t see him again until the war was over and we had returned to Tehran. From the war, despite the smoke and darkness, no one forgot a face. Several years later, I recognized the man who had given me his water; he was Mojtaba Khamenei, the son of then president Ali Khamenei, who is now known as the leader! Here’s a letter I’d like to send him today.

Greetings, Mojtaba! I know you haven’t forgotten me. We were close friends. I still recall the trips we made together. You were simple and cordial and it is awfully difficult for me to believe what I hear, that you stand behind Iran’s recent massacres and murders. I can’t accept that you, a person who would willingly sacrifice his life for his country, are the one behind a coup d’état and sedition that has shed dozens of Iranians’ blood on the streets.

Mojtaba! Is this really you? Life takes rather unexpected turns! I accept that these days, we differ greatly from one another, but we can’t deny the past. We have a similar history, one that we take pride in. We have defended our country, rifle in hands, and have killed to save our country from deterioration. We took pride in standing against the Baath army when it was supported by the whole world, while our country and nation stood alone. In those days, neither you nor I ever imagined standing against our own people, unlike what seems to be your cup of tea these days.

Perhaps you have heard of the recent killings, seen photos, and watched the video of Neda getting shot. When I saw the photographs of this innocent young woman dying in the street, arms and eyes open, it reminded me of one of our martyred friends from the war, laying lifeless on the ground for their country.

Mojtaba! Your pride should lie in having been a Basiji and a war hero, not in being the son of the leader. Don’t you see how the nation is being crushed? Don’t you see the blood in the streets? You are the same person who was ready to sacrifice his life for his country. You are that person with the raw, thirsty lips who gave his gourd to me to drink. Why are you silent? I can’t believe you may be behind all these crimes against humanity. I don’t accuse you, but how can you watch and not speak a word of protest? Could it be that you take pride in your father’s regime and follow his lead so that his rule can continue?

I have kept and treasured my uniform, covered with dirt and blood from the war, and maybe you have done the same. If you have, I want to ask you as a former friend, fellow fighter, countryman, and fellow human being to look at it and question where you stand today. Ask yourself where all those martyrs would have been standing today had they been alive. Would you and your supporters be pointing your smoking guns at our friends Hemmat, Broujerdi, Bakeri, and Khanjani?

Mojtaba! It will not be long before every Iranian cries to reclaim his or her rightful place, and the nightly calls of Allaho Akbar (God is Great) on the rooftops are a testimony to that. It will happen whether you or your father want it or not. The future belongs to those who are heirs to the innocents whose blood is being spilled in the streets. You watch all this, but like a sleepwalker pass through without seeing. Shame on the one who is not asleep but pretends to be!

Wake up, Mojtaba…

Your former friend,
Amir Farshad Ebrahimi