Chapter III · 1975–1976بەشی سێیەم · ١٩٧٥–١٩٧٦
The Shieldقەڵغان
When the revolution collapsed, he had one strategy left, and he spent it on the lives of others.
The Algiers Agreement broke the 1974 revolution, and the regime turned on Komalla's exposed network. Hundreds of thousands crossed into Iran. The leadership tried to reach the Syrian embassy in Tehran and, on the pretext of an illegal border crossing, were seized and jailed for three months in Saqz. Then Iran handed them to Baghdad.
In Abu Ghraib, under interrogation and torture, he made his calculated move. He summoned the interrogators and told them the young men knew nothing; he alone was responsible. He drilled three lines into every comrade before their interrogations: we are not an organization, we held no meetings, we paid no fees. Whatever blame there is, he told the torturers, bring it to me.
There is only one of me. It is better for one to die than thirty.
His family fought for his neck. Nazanin Khan went to Saddam Hussein's own uncle; George Habash raised the case with Saddam directly; intermediaries offered a deal: publicly recant, and the sentence might be reduced. His fury at the suggestion never cooled. Recanting would have handed the regime the one victory torture could not take.
Do you want an uncle you are proud of, or an uncle you are ashamed of all your life?
I did not ask to be born; my parents decided that. But I will decide how I go.
While the sentence was still undecided, families crowded a small prison garden for a visit. His niece Runak whispered the question no one dared ask: could it be death? He answered that even so, nothing would change: there were sons and daughters young and full of fire who would carry the torch. When she wept, he put his hand on her back: I always considered you my lion. How is it I see you crying now?
21 November 1976 · dawn٢١ی تشرینی دووەمی ١٩٧٦ · بەرەبەیان
They argued over who would go firstملمالنێیان دەکرد کێ یەکەم جار بڕوات
On the 20th, word came that it would be the 21st. Comrades and family protested in the corridor for hours until two were allowed in to say goodbye; they found the condemned men reassuring their visitors instead of the other way around, and were greeted with chants so strong that a guard, shaken, stepped away and said: for a moment, you are free.
At sunrise, Shahab Sheikh Nuri, Jaafar Abdul Wahid and Anwar Zorab walked to the gallows chanting for the martyrs and the nation. Kak Jaafar asked to go first; he could not bear to watch Shahab die. The answer was final.
By rank or by age, it is my right to go first.
He was 44. Kak Jaafar was 34. They found rest in the soil of Seywan hill in Slemani, where thousands upon thousands defied the regime's threats to carry them home.