Human Beings Are Not Members of Each Other
in front of my eyes, an Iranian police officer said to a fifty-seven-year-old Afghan man, “Scavenger Afghani, get up quickly and sit on the seat so we take you back to Afghanistan.”
By Hossein Barlas
Yesterday, at 8:30 AM, I arrived in Tehran. I went straight to the Bureau of Foreign Nationals/Kefalat Office to extend my visa. I showed my document to the officer standing at the gate. He said, “Sir! Your appointment is at 12:35; you have to wait.” Despite my efforts to hand him the paper, it was useless. I had to wait until the time written on the document. I sat a few meters away from the gate, texting one of my friends on my mobile. Suddenly, a hand reached down and snatched my phone while another tapped my shoulder. It was a police officer. I stood up.
He said, “Come on, let’s go to Kabul!” I responded, “I have documents—passport and visa.” He replied, “Don’t talk. Come along; we’ll check your documents at the camp.” Quietly, I went with him. As we approached the car, I saw four other Afghans inside, sitting with tired and distressed faces. The five of us crammed into the back seat, heading toward the police station. As soon as we arrived, they tied our hands with plastic handcuffs, like the ones used in poultry slaughterhouses, the kind you can see in pictures, and took our phones away.
My left hand was cuffed to the right hand of another Afghan. Fourteen people cuffed in pairs. After an hour, another officer came and said, “You’re going to Varamin camp. There, we’ll see who gets released and who gets sent back to Afghanistan.” I asked, “Excuse me, do those of us who have documents also need to go?” With a harsh tone and a scowling face, he snapped, “Yes, do you want to stay here, and we’ll cook lunch for you? Insolent Afghani!” I remained silent and sat down. Moments later, another officer with a grim face and a voice like a cow came over and said, “Boys, let’s go to Germany to work! This place isn’t for you; you need to go somewhere where you’ll earn more money.” I knew they were mocking and belittling us. We didn’t say a word. The fourteen of us, cuffed in pairs, were led outside and boarded a bus. Inside, there were about fifty of us.
We headed toward Askarabad Camp. During the ride, the officer in charge of transporting us hurled the filthiest insults at us, with no regard for anyone—whether they were young, old, or elderly. If someone spoke loudly, he would yell, “KusKash Afghan (Pimp Afghan), do you think this is Afghanistan that you can shout here? Don’t you know how to speak quietly, you cow?” If someone spoke quietly, he’d mock, “Are you mute, or do you have a stutter, calf?” He was looking for any excuse to humiliate and degrade us.
The two and a half hours on that bus felt like two and a half years to me. It was the first time I had ever been handcuffed and the first time I experienced the crushing weight of humiliation, insult, and emotional abuse. It felt as though we were criminals, drug dealers, kidnappers, and traffickers. When we reached the camp, they lined us up like prisoners being transferred from one jail to another. They read out the numbers written on the backs of our hands. When your number was called, you went inside a cell. My number was twelve. The officer grumbled and growled at everyone, calling out, “Those with documents form one line; those without form another.” We formed two lines. After fingerprinting, those of us with passports and visas were released, while those without any valid documents were taken inside with threats and orders from the police to move quickly.
Let me tell you, with all due respect, that the humiliation, insults, and torment we Afghans endure at the hands of the Iranian police have no place in any law, custom, or tradition. We do not deserve this treatment, and we will not forget it. From the moment I got into the police car until the moment I was released from the camp, and even now, as I write these words, I still don’t feel well. Every time I walk, sit, eat, or sleep, I remember that moment when, right in front of my eyes, an Iranian police officer said to a fifty-seven-year-old Afghan man, “Scavenger Afghani, get up quickly and sit on the seat so we take you back to Afghanistan.”
