Among us you were, and without us you left;
Like the scent of a flower. Where did you go to?

In the absence of our Shirin, on the night of Saturday we spent the most bitter moments of our captivity – a dark and scary night, with every second lasting as long as centuries, for the rest of us, who so desperately longed to see Shirin again.
The phones at women’s ward were cut on Saturday afternoon, adding to our concerns. We were all sitting in the room that belonged to us; and Shirin, who had tasted the pain of captivity longer than any of us, was the most enthusiastic about the separation of rooms. But the first to be released from this room was going to be Shirin and her belongings. That night, those who once, many years ago, had spent time in Evin, were talking about their memories; about the loved-ones who used to suddenly disappear in the dark of the night to join the eternal light of freedom. We spent some hours listening to their bitter memories of friends with whom they had parted in disbelief before their walks to the gallows and their eternal freedom. We admired the iron resolve of these women who so bravely stood up under the weight of the dusk of lost friendships and now absent friends, hoping for better days for future generations.

Alas, the circle of injustice continues, and it was not long before our patience was called to task when Shirin was abruptly separated from us without having time to say goodbye; as if the noose was calling her name, hoping to see a glimmer of fear in her eagle eyes.  But I know well that Shirin’s courage was ridiculing that stark Evin night and the harshness of the noose.
Seconds were passing with pain, keeping us waiting for news of Shirin. When they took her away at 9:50 pm 10 minutes before the blackout  (they said it was to correct a mistake about her father’s name), it did not occur to us even for a second that this was the last time we would see her. Her passion for life, her progress and her efforts to learn made her look like someone who had just been arrested and would be released soon.
Oh the long night we lived through!
The prisoner count during the next morning felt like a heavy weight on our shoulders, as we were sure that, once again, a fighter, a lioness from the land of Kurdistan whose resistance defied the mountains, had been lost to the noose. Yet, it was all too hard to believe, even impossible. Then we heard the 2 pm news, and came to believe that Shirin would never come back. We, who had only heard through other people’s memories and accounts how one feels about losing a friend, felt the pain of losing our Shirin. That night that summed up all the nights of our lives, we hoped for something that some 20 years ago our cellmates had yearned for over and over: that one day the injustice will end, and never again will the future generations have to experience the same feeling.
4 days have passed since the tragedy. A scarf as black as our days, is laid on her bed as a sign of our mourning. I, who sleep on the floor in the room of political ones despite the insistence of others, do not want to take the place of my pottery teacher, a place that will always remain empty.

Mahdieh Golroo

Evin Prison

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