05 Jan 2006

Sam is a 28-year-old homosexual man who fled from Iran due to his plentiful problems and difficulties.

He was born in a religious family and a religious city, an environment which was like other Iranian societies, homosexuality is sin and homosexuals are subjects of defamation, entitled to cruelty and condemned to DEATH. (We did not mention name of the city for the sake of security).

Sam was in a very bad mental and social condition and did not have contact to other people and this led him to suicidal thoughts, he committed suicide once, but it was not a successful one. He was always preoccupied with the fear of being arrested and tortured. But something bad happened to him, we’ll have it from Sam, himself:

Sometime in March 2005, I was chatting in an Iranian Gay Chat Room, there was a boy there constantly sending me messages saying he was looking for someone for sex, ready for everything. The boy said he was 22, handsome and sexy. So we made a date to meet in the street, he said he had place for sleeping together. It was 3 p.m. we met, he was good-looking, and we talked and decided to take a taxi to the place he said. There came a Paykan (a passenger car), someone was sitting beside the driver, and another at the back seat. When getting in I, at his demand, got in first and sat in the middle and he sat beside me, at the back seat. After about a minute, they   started beating me, then, by foul abusing words they closed my eyes by a band and by their slapping and blowing with fists, I faced my worst experience of life. They took me somewhere and opened my eyes; I think we did not get too far from the dating place, since we were only about 15 minutes driving. I was severely shocked, did not know what had happened. There I faced the worst insults and beatings. The place seemed to be a Besiege (The Islamic Public Military force) Base. It was like an old house or even part of a school. The people there were in casual clothes and carried wireless phones. Some of them were armed carrying guns. Most of them wore beards; some were very young about 17 or 18. All wore their shirts on their pants, and they did not have any uniforms to show which government force they belong to. Their head was a flabby bald man, just like a clergyman without the head covering and the cloak. After some hours of tormenting and torturing physically and mentally, they asked me to write an undertaking not to ever enter a chat room, and if I did, I would be entitled to the most severe punishments. They said I was lucky some other ones did not arrest me or when doing sex, and then I would be executed. They threatened that if I did such a thing again they would send me to the court and hang me. Then they told me to sign the paper and put my fingerprint, I refused and they started beating more severely with a lash and trampling followed. I saw death before my eyes, begged them to stop, but they went on and on. I knew they would not cease until they got the promise paper signed, so I yielded. The insults, banging and whippings continued until 8 o’clock at night the next day. Their insults and foul words were even worse than those 30 lashes. One of them said, “We will jail you faggots out so you do not do these fag deeds”.

I had spent the day there in a place, like a basement full of garbage and hideous smell. The night of the second day, about 8 o’clock, they again covered my eyes and with beatings and insulating they told me that they were going to  put me somewhere and that I could not open my blinkers until they had drove off  far, and if I opened them sooner, they would come back and start again as yesterday, we drove and drove. They stopped, threw me out. When they were far off, I opened my eyes, it was a deserted dust road, then I started walking until I reached the main road. I stopped a van, and asked the driver to take me to town. I did not let him know anything of what happened.

When I got home, I faced my family’s severe reaction; they inquired where I had been. Since they do not know of my homosexuality, and I didn’t want them to know anything,  I had to lie, and told  them that I had been at hospital attending a friend who had had an accident, they asked why  didn’t I call, and questioning followed and I could just lie and justify….

After two days from this incident, I went to a friend and asked him to take a photo of me (and my bruise and injures) he had a photographer friend who could help and take photos, few people do such a thing here (helping a prosecuted). I could not tell him the real cause of my bruises, so I told him that the lashes were because of drinking alcohol.

The same night, I e-mailed my brother of what happened. He is the only one who I could talk to, he is a homosexual, too and no one else knows of our sexual orientation.

To that time, I never thought of leaving my home country, but l could not tolerate more, I always saw the shadow of death and torture around and decided to run away for my life. About six month ago, I legally left the country and introduced myself to the United Nations High Commission for Refugees in Islamabad, Pakistan and am waiting for a reply.

This was the story. It is not new to us. This is what we‘ve all seen times to happen, and every time we have been told to keep quiet and suffer in silence. But now, our song will turn to a cry to break the silence and tell everyone what terrible lives gays are leading, and so the transsexuals and lesbians, having no voice no refuge and freedom, and to show what sorrowful destiny awaits us here.