Odi's Story - Journey from Iran

Odi, from Iran, courageously shares with us his story of political imprisonment in Iran, his difficult voyage to London, and his struggle towards asylum and a new life for himself and his family in the UK.  We are publishing his account in instalments, starting with how his journey began.  This is a very personal account but one that is representative of the horrors and challenges faced by so many asylum seekers around the world. 

When I was in Iran, I was working for the Education Department, teaching computer science to 16 and 17-year-old boys.  During the breaks, I would speak about history because the boys were hungry for real history that wasn’t in books.  Because I was working for the state, it was a problem that I spoke about history and also that I resisted going to Friday prayer.  In Iran, religion is inherited and has more to do with your identity than your faith.  I went to the mosque when I was a boy because my father hit me, but I never understood why I had to be scared of God or why I had to pray in Arabic and not in my own language, Farsi.  

I was eventually arrested, I stopped receiving wages and insurance, and I was told that I wasn’t allowed to work.  I wasn’t fired, but I didn’t know what I could do.  I had a wife and young son to support, so I started teaching privately from home, but we had an awful life with no money.

I found another job as a civil servant working in IT.  I was a supporter of the Reformist political group of Khatami, who was in power before Ahmadinejad.  The current regime tortures and kills people in the name of Islam, but Khatami stood for democracy and cooperation among countries.  I continued to support Khatami after Ahmadinejad came to power and started speaking to my colleagues about the group.  

The Iranian Authority began to secretly monitor me and, after two years, arrested me without any warning.  At four o’clock in the morning, members of the Iranian Authority pushed in the door and attacked my house like they were arresting a killer.  They searched the house and collected our documents, pictures, notebooks and reading material, even outdated newspapers from the bin.  My son was crying, and they told my wife to sit down and shut up.

They told me to put on some clothes and then they covered my eyes and put me in a van.  I didn’t know what I had done and worried for my wife and son.  I asked them what my crime was and they just told me to shut up and let them do their job.

We got to where we were going after an hour or two, and when they were moving me from the van, they hit me with whatever they had.  It was 2 or 3 minutes, but for me it was 2 or 3 years.