Odi's Story - Learning to Stay Positive

This is the fifth instalment of Odi's courageous story of his 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.  This very personal account is representative of the horrors and challenges faced by so many asylum seekers around the world. 

From 2009 till now, all I heard from immigration organisations was that they thought I was a liar and didn’t believe me at all, just because I didn’t tell them I had any signs of tortures on my body.  And this made me very sad because we have lots of kinds of tortures – mental and physical – and I know my tortures will stay with me in my mind to the end of my life.  Sometimes your mind can’t recover or forget, even with the help of doctors and tablets.  But maybe the doctors at Helen Bamber can help me feel less about them, and help with nightmares and flashbacks.

In my three years in this country, I can’t remember ever sleeping well.  Every night I have nightmares and remember the Iranian Authority in prison when they hit me.  I cry all the time in my sleep and some nights I wake up suddenly, feeling like I’m shouting, and my pillow, face, neck and hands are all wet.  Many nights I’m not able to get to sleep until three or four o’clock, and after just 30 or 40 minutes the nightmares scare me a lot and make me angry and sad.

All the time I’m depressed.  I think a lot about my past, now, the future.  I’m scared about taking tablets because in Ireland, they gave me strong tablets, three times a day, and they didn’t work.  They made it hard to sleep at night, and it was hard to get up in the morning, and when I did, I was more depressed than before.  I didn’t want to go out or speak with anyone.  Sometimes they made me happy but it was for a short time.  I will have to explain to Helen Bamber that I’m really scared about taking tablets.  I hope they can help me without tablets, or maybe they can give me the correct tablets.

Some people tell me, “You are so fat, so you can eat well. You are fine. You don’t have any problems.”  It’s very interesting how people judge me this way.  When I’m nervous, I wake up in the morning and go to the fridge and eat everything.  It makes me feel better.  Smoking helps me too.  I know it damages my body, but when I’m smoking I’m more comfortable than before.  I’m trying to quit smoking but I can’t do that.  

And sometimes I can’t manage my anger.  For example, in Dublin, when I was eating and someone looked into my eyes, it made me feel very angry and I wanted to go fight with them.  I don’t like that anger.  And when I go to the crowded, busy streets in Central London, I get impatient because they are noisy and make my flashbacks start, and I have to leave the area as soon as possible.  And sometimes when I sit on buses or trains, some people speak very loudly and they make me very angry; I can’t say how much.  I just press the button to stop the bus and get off, sit at the bus stop, and take my head in my hands because I don’t want to fight with people.  I don’t want people to be scared of me, so I try to manage myself and my anger, and be patient. 

As a man, it’s very hard when you have a family and you’re not able to see them.  I can’t do anything for my family, and I’m suffering because of it, in addition to the other stuff.  Because of all that I have been through, sometimes I forget my address and the names of my wife and son.  I pray all the time for this nightmare to be over as soon as possible and for my son and wife to come here so we can continue our normal life without any worry or fear.

Just my GP and some of my friends know my story.  And when I talk about my suffering with people, some of them don’t like to listen because they say, “Our problems are enough for us. We don’t need extra.”  I give them that right.  I can’t force people to listen to me when they don’t want to, but I can’t forget the people who help me.  Some people listen to me and want to do more than listen to me.  Some of them, when I share with them about my tortures and I start crying, they start crying with me as well.  And they hug me and tell me all the time, “Don’t give up. You are a father and you are a husband. You should be strong for your family because when they come here, they shouldn’t see you as a mentally ill person.”  And I thank God for these friends.  When I talk about myself, they never judge me.  

When I was in Manchester I tried to kill myself two times because I was very tired from life, and you can’t imagine the state I was in.  The first time, my friend stopped me, and the second time I thought of my wife and son.  I was very lucky because the church helped me.  They talked to me a lot and said, “God doesn’t like it when you kill yourself.”  They gave me the address of a charity where I could go sit and eat and English people would come and speak with failed asylum seekers. 

After that, I tried to keep my brain busy and practice my English because when I was alone, I went crazy and had lots of flashbacks from my prison time and tortures.  I spent my time going to the shopping centre and watching people, and then I would go back to my spot on the street for the night.  I would practice my English by going into stores and asking for the price of things.  And I started going to the park and speaking with people, even though I couldn’t speak very well.  I ignored my fear and spoke with one man sitting on a bench.  I said, “What lovely weather today,” and he said, “It’s not lovely. It’s about to rain. What are you talking about 'lovely'?”  I started laughing and explained my situation to him.  We talked for more than three hours.  I never understood what he was saying but just nodded and said, “Yes, yes.”   He knew I didn’t know what he was saying and laughed in a kind way.

I started to read and write and listen to English at home and the library.  In London, I spent lots of time in the library from morning to evening.  I would wait for it to open each morning and was the last person to leave.  I would spend my time reading the newspaper because it’s free and you don’t need a library card.  I went to the Refugee Council and found that they had a Day Centre that was open for asylum seekers.  It is closed now because of a low budget.  But they served lunch, and if you were homeless, you could come shower and wash clothes for free.  My friend helped me with the travel costs.  In the last two years my friend has spent a lot of money on me.  I have a few friends now who really help me.  There is a limit to what they can do, but thank God for them.  I went to the Day Centre everyday and shared my refugee experience.  Some people were surprised when they heard my story and some started crying because they had been through a similar situation.