A long journey
We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love each other.
1 John 3:14 NIV
I was born into a large family of Azari ethnicity, the youngest of eight siblings. My parents were from the Ardabil Province of northwestern Iran, close to the border with Azerbaijan, and I grew up speaking the Azari language at home with my mother. Although I was subjected to an Islamic education at school, my family was far from devout, and I never had the sense that my parents were really Muslim. I believe my father held his own private beliefs, which he kept to himself, never imposing any religious observances on us within the home. We never attended mosque, and I was never encouraged to read the Quran. Privately, we did not observe Ramadan. I grew up, therefore, considering myself free from the bonds of religion that I saw in the culture around me, yet without feeling any peace in that freedom. I was always the type to experience stress from circumstances, and I frequently had feelings of anger and aggression towards other people. I would not say that I was an atheist. I believed in God, but I did not know how to communicate with Him, or how to have any kind of relationship with Him.
I studied information technology at university, and after graduation, I managed to get a job in a computer hardware store in Tehran. We lived in a rural area close to the capital city, so I had a long commute to and from work every day. Because of the particular field I was working in, and because there were many tourists and visitors to the city, I decided to try to continue studying English. I began attending lessons once a week and became very interested in one of the girls in my class, called Sada. I started to offer her a lift to class, and soon we were going out on dates together, usually on Friday afternoons after our lessons finished. Life felt good, and it was a happy time for me.
A few months into this relationship, however, there came a sudden change. Sada began to say that she wanted to go straight home after class, and no longer seemed to want to spend time with me. The first time this happened I accepted it, but when she expressed the same reluctance to go out with me for the second and third time, I began to get angry with her. I felt that she was hiding something from me. We argued, and then did not speak to each other for a week. I did not give her a lift to the English class, but left her to take a taxi by herself that Friday.
Continuing to see each other in class each week, my coldness towards Sada soon began to thaw. I had really come to love her, and I could not let go so easily. After about two weeks of keeping our distance, I approached her one day after class and insisted on at least giving her a lift back to her home. Sada told me that my attitudes and behaviour towards her had been very wrong. I told her I wanted to change, and that I would even go to see a psychologist if that would help save our relationship. She replied that I needed to change, but that it would not be through a psychologist, and she took a book out of her bag and gave it to me. The title of the book was Complete Salvation. This seemed to me a very strange title, andI could not imagine what the book was about.I drove her home, and during the week that followed I began to read.
I was shocked to find that the book spoke about a man called Jesus who died for our salvation, and I realised that it was a book about Christianity. This frightened me, and I soon put it down and out of sight and tried not to think about it. I began to feel anxious about what Sada might have got herself into, but the following week I could not bear to distance myself from her, so I again offered to take her home from class. During our journey she asked me what I had thought of the book. I told her it was about Christianity; it was about someone who died, so it had nothing to do with me. I could get no psychology lesson from that book. There was nothing in it that could possibly help me in any way. Sada seemed really disappointed with my answer, and before she left she gave me another book and begged me to read it. I took the book, but again, I felt the same uneasiness and anxiety and I had no interest in finding out what it had to say.
A few weeks later, there was a national holiday, so I asked Sada to come out with me and she agreed. Again, she asked me what I thought of the books she had given me. I replied to her they were about Christianity and asked her why she wanted me to read them. Sada then told me that she had been going to a secret Christian church, and she invited me to go with her. The meeting would take place on Friday after our English class. I began to understand what had been going wrong in our relationship. I felt really frightened at the thought of going to the house church. I knew that we could get into a lot of trouble if we were discovered to be involved in something like that. But I was equally afraid of losing Sada, and I was encouraged that she had trusted me enough to tell me about her new and dangerous interest. I truly wanted to show a concern to understand what was important to her, so I decided to give the church a try.
The church meeting was not like anything I had experienced before. It took place in a small room in a house. A simple prayer was said at the beginning; we then read a portion of the Bible together, and discussed its meaning, and we ended the meeting by very quietly singing a Christian hymn. The prayer, the Bible reading, the hymn – all were new to me, and all were about this Jesus. The passage we read from the Bible was from Matthew 5. Jesus was teaching His followers and said to them:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I tell you not to resist an evil person. But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also. If anyone wants to sue you and take away your tunic, let him have your cloak also. And whoever compels you to go one mile, go with him two. Give to him who asks you, and from him who wants to borrow from you do not turn away.”
Matthew 5:38-42 NKJV
I had heard before the phrase, ‘an eye for an eye’, as it is also in the Quran. It had always made sense to me. I was a person with a naturally quick temper, and up to that point in my life I had believed that the best thing to do when someone wronged me was to find a way of getting revenge that would really hurt them and teach them a lesson. I thought that was a logical way to live. We should stand up for ourselves, or we would be destroyed by other people. In the same passage, Jesus continued,
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.”
Matthew 5:43-45 NKJV
When I heard those words for the first time, I was shocked. I could not imagine how any man could say something so radical and contrary to natural human instinct. As the passage was discussed, I learned that Jesus claimed to be God Himself, come to live on earth as a human being. These were not the words of a mere man. They were the words of God, and He was a God who loved us even though we were His enemies. If we wanted to be “sons of our Father in heaven”, as Jesus said, this was the kind of radical living that was required of us. If everyone lived in this way, showing love, forgiveness, kindness, generosity and a total lack of vengefulness, there would be peace in this world. But it is impossible for us to live like this. We have sin deeply rooted in our hearts, and we cannot imitate the love of God, no matter how hard we try.
Listening to the simple sermon that day, I was just beginning my journey of understanding the gospel of Christ, but I now understand that it is for this reason that God came Himself as a man to Earth. He came in the form of Jesus, to live this perfect life in our place. He died a terrible death to take the punishment of God that should be ours for our sin. The story did not end there. After three days, Jesus returned to life and appeared to His followers, and He told them that He was going back to heaven, but He was leaving them His Spirit. The Holy Spirit would help them to obey the rules that Jesus taught them, and to spread His message to everyone they met.
As I sat in the meeting and listened to the teaching, these ideas seemed strange to me. I do not know what I had been expecting, but I had never imagined the message of Christianity to be like this. I could not fully understand or take it all in, but there was such a peace and calm in that room that told me that these people were not crazy. Everyone spoke with a quiet assurance. There was no agitation or excitement. They just seemed to sincerely believe what they were saying, and to have such confidence in this message that they would risk everything to follow Jesus. Despite my fears, I was sure that I would go back to that church again.
At the second meeting I attended I was given a Bible in Farsi. I took it home with me, and began reading from Genesis, the very first book, and found that it was an account of the creation of the world. I had very little time to read, however. I was working long hours, and had a long commute to work every day. As we were a large family, and there were always visitors in the house, I had almost no privacy. I kept the Bible hidden in my room, but I knew that I would arouse suspicion if I started hiding myself away alone to read. I continued to attend the house church with Sada, and continued to learn more about the Christian faith there each week.
About two months after I had started attending the church, Sada brought two new friends, Soraya and Shirin, along with her one Friday. They had expressed an interest in learning about Christianity. The following day, Sada called me and asked me if I could give these girls the two books that she had originally given to me. I had kept the books, but the girls were really keen to know more, and Sada thought they would help them. We agreed that I would meet Soraya and Shirin at a certain time at a certain metro station on my way into work the next day, and I would pass the books to them there.
The next day was Sunday, and I took the books with me and met the girls as planned. We had a brief chat at the station, and I gave Shirin my company business card, with my name and phone number on it. I told her that if she had any trouble understanding anything she read, she could call me and I could try to explain it to her. She slipped the card inside one of the books and put it in her bag. We said goodbye, and I continued my journey to work.
Later that morning, as I was working in the shop, Sada called me. She told me in a panicked voice that Shirin had been picked up by the police for not observing the dress code properly. She had probably been seen wearing her hijab too loosely. I knew how easily this could happen. I had once been arrested myself after getting a new haircut! After Shirin’s arrest, Soraya had immediately run to Sada to tell her what had happened, and to warn her, because Shirin still had the two books in her bag. Sada asked me if there was any way that the books could be connected to me, and I realised with horror that my business card was inside. Not only would it tell the police my name and my phone number, but they would know exactly where to find me.
I knew that I needed to get away and find somewhere to hide immediately. I was sure that the police would be on their way to find me before long. Not only was I afraid of the beatings and torture that would come if I was arrested, but I feared I might reveal names and information about the house church if I was interrogated in that way. I turned off my phone, knowing that it could be used to trace me, and went to my manager. I told him that I had received terrible news about a family situation, and I had to go home. He allowed me to leave, and I went straight to a clothes shop in the city where a cousin of mine worked. I explained to my cousin, Omid, that I was in trouble and begged him to give me the key to his home so that I could go there to hide out. He was angry with me, but gave me the key, and I went to his house and waited for him to return home from work in the evening. I did not tell Omid everything that had happened because I did not know how he would respond, but he allowed me to stay in his house for another day.
When he returned from work on Monday evening, I asked Omid if I could use his phone to call Sada to find out if she had heard any news. I hoped that I might be mistaken in my fears. Perhaps my card had not been found inside the book. Perhaps it had fallen out, or Shirin had thought better of leaving it there. When I called, I found that her phone was turned off, and this only increased my worries. Omid saw how anxious I was and said that he would go to my home the next day to find out what was going on.
Shortly after arriving at my parents’ house, Omid called me on his landline, and confirmed to me all my worst fears. He told me to stay where I was and not to leave the house on any account. Then my father took the phone from him and began shouting at me. He told me I had brought shame on the family by choosing a new religion. The police had come to the house on Sunday and turned it upside down. They had searched my room and found my Bible, and they had taken some notebooks and a flash drive. They told my parents that I would be given a death sentence for apostasy when they found me. My mother then came on the phone, crying and wailing; Omid took back the phone and told me that he had to go to work, but that he would think of what he could do to help me. He thought he could find a solution.
Omid had a colleague who was involved in importing clothing illegally from Turkey, and they thought they could use his contacts to get me out of the country. So later that day, after returning from work, they took me to the border and handed me over to a guide who would take me across into Turkey. That night will remain forever in my memory. It was a terrifying experience. I had to leave behind everyone I knew, and I never saw Sada again. We went as a small group of three or four people, the guide and his donkey, on foot across the mountains. I was sure I would be shot by border police. It was so dark that we could barely see or keep up with the guide in front of us, and we walked for almost thirteen hours. That was just the beginning of my terrible eleven-month journey to the UK.
For almost a year my life was under the control of the people traffickers I had been handed over to. I was always in a small group with a leader, but we were never told anything about where we were or where we were going. We sometimes travelled by bus, and at one point I was put on a small boat, but mostly we walked, generally sleeping outdoors, or sometimes in cold warehouses, washing ourselves in rivers when we could. We were occasionally brought a change of clothes, though these were always old and not in the right sizes to fit us well. I believe that the agents knew they would be paid a lot more money if they could succeed in delivering us to the UK, rather than to any other European country, so for that reason we were kept moving. Eventually there came a day when the leader of our group told us that he had found a lorry to put us into to take us on the next stage of our journey. He took us to the lorry and I saw that it was transporting grapes. I realised that once the engine started, the refrigeration mechanism would be turned on and I had no idea how long we would have to stay inside. I felt sure that I would die in that lorry if I got in. I told the leader that I would not get inside. At this, he hit me over the head with an iron bar that he always carried to threaten us with, and pushed me inside. I was in such terrible pain that I couldn’t fight back any longer.
After nineteen hours in the back of that lorry, with only a short stop, we were feeling really unwell, and feared we could not go on much longer. We started to bang on the sides of the lorry to alert the driver to our presence. I made up my mind to leave the rest of the group as soon as the doors were opened. Now that we no longer had a threatening leader with us, I wanted to get away and seek help alone. I set off as soon as I could and was walking for perhaps around three hours before I found myself in a busy city. By this time, not only did I have no idea of where I was, but I had almost lost sense of who I was. It was nighttime again, and I was freezing cold, and desperately hungry.
I saw a police car coming down the road towards me, so I raised my arms and began waving at it wildly. The car stopped and I tried to tell the police in English that I had just come out of a lorry, and I did not know where I was. I told them I had nothing – no phone, no money – and I needed their help. They put me in the back of the car and took me to a police station. They asked me what language I spoke, and then connected three phone lines so that I could speak to a solicitor through a Farsi interpreter.
I told the solicitor my story. I told her everything about how I had been travelling for eleven months, living outdoors and under the control of the traffickers. I told her that it had not been like living in this world, but like some kind of bad dream. The solicitor spoke to me in a kind and reassuring voice. She told me that I was in England now, and that I was safe. No one was following me and no one would try to hurt me. I would be taken to a safe place and I would be looked after. The conversation left me feeling calmer, and I hoped that I would soon be able to meet the person with the gentle soothing voice at the end of the phone line.
But things did not turn out so well for me. About two days after my arrival at the police station, I was moved to the Verne immigration removal centre, on the Isle of Portland in Dorset. This centre was previously a prison, and the majority of men held there had been convicted of crimes and served prison sentences, and were awaiting deportation. I was escorted to the room allocated to me by a female police officer. On entering the room, I burst into tears, and asked her why I was there as I had not committed any crime. She told me that she did not know anything about my case, and asked if I had claimed asylum in the UK. She promised to go and check my documents, and make sure that my application was processed. She said she was sure that I would only be there for a couple of days. Again, I felt reassured by kind words. I am glad that I did not know from the very beginning just how long I would be there. In the end it was fifty days in total.
During my stay at the Verne, I was in constant fear of being deported. I saw many deportations, mainly of eastern Europeans and Africans, who were taken away in handcuffs to be escorted onto planes. I was given a room on a landing with twenty occupants, with just two showers and two toilets between us. The doors of the landing were locked at eight o’clock every evening, and not opened again until eight o’clock the next morning. After the ordeal of my journey, I felt I was now in prison. No one explained anything to me, and I had no idea what my future would be. It was only by persistently asking for help and advice that things ever moved forwards.
After the first few days of my stay, I learnt that every Monday it was possible to go to the library and ask for an appointment with a solicitor. On the first Monday, there were no appointments left available by the time I arrived, so I resolved to go as early as possible the following week. I discovered that there was a chapel in the centre, so when Sunday came around, I thought I would go to see what the service was like. I sat in the back row, because I was not even sure if I was allowed to be there, and I thought that if anyone questioned my presence, I could quickly escape. The church was led by a Christian minister, and to my relief, the people were kind and welcoming. They told me that a small group would be visiting the centre every Wednesday for tea and biscuits and informal conversation, and that every Thursday, a pastor came to lead a Bible study. These visitors became a lifeline for me, and reminded me of why I had been in trouble in my own country, and why I had been forced to flee.
It had been so long since I had read the Bible or prayed with believers in Jesus. I explored the library, and to my delight, I found a Bible in Farsi. I began to spend hours reading it every day. I met another Iranian who was expecting deportation after getting into a fight and spending three years in prison in the UK. He told me that he had now given his life to Jesus, and we spent a lot of time reading and studying the Bible together.
Eventually, a solicitor was found who agreed to help me, though it was not, as I had hoped, the kind lady I had spoken to on that first night in the police station. My case seemed to be moving very slowly, and I settled into life in the centre. At first, I took on the responsibility of cleaning our landing, and then I was asked to help in the packaging department. Later, I was asked to help in the barbers’ shop. We were paid five pounds a day for any work that we did, which was put onto a card that we could use in the centre shop. I still had three days of the week completely free, and I would spend most of that time with my Christian friend or reading the Bible alone. I had achieved some kind of routine and my mental health began to improve.
After more than six weeks in the Verne, my solicitor had made no progress with my case. I went to the pastor who visited on Thursdays and asked him if he could do anything to help me. I told him my whole story. He listened carefully and allowed me to speak, but when I finished he expressed his anger at the situation I was in. He said that I should never have been brought to the Verne, and promised to see what he could do to help me. He told me that he would like to baptise me, but that he would need to know more about my conversion first. He asked me a lot of questions about the Bible and about Christian teachings. I answered as well as I could. When he had finished questioning me, the pastor told me that he could not believe how well I knew the Bible after attending a house church for such a short time in Iran, and then spending eleven months travelling and never going near a church.
I was baptised the following Sunday and given photographs and a book and other gifts. The pastor then gave me a letter to testify that I was a Christian, telling my story of how I had changed my religion and attended an illegal house church in Iran. The letter was passed to my solicitor, and it was this that finally secured my release. I am so grateful for everything that the pastor did to help me, and I would like to express my thanks, but unfortunately, I have not been able to get in contact with him again.
On release I was sent to a city where I settled quickly into an evangelical church. A large group of Iranian refugees attended the church, and there was Farsi interpretation at two services every Sunday, as well as a Farsi Bible study. I got involved in a lot of other activities too. I was able to work as a volunteer in the coffee shop run by the church, and I attended an English conversation class and activities organized for international students. At these events in particular, spending time with other young people my age, believers and unbelievers from all over the world, I saw how faith in Jesus Christ our Saviour enables us to have fellowship across any barriers of culture, upbringing, and even language.
There was a lady at the church who was married to an older Iranian Christian, and she showed me a lot of kindness. She wrote a letter for me to take to my court hearing, as did two of the elders of the church, who also attended the hearing with me. I understood that it was not their job to support me in my asylum application, and they had really known me only a very short time before they expressed their willingness to help. I had never been shown kindness like this in my life before, and I was seeing a demonstration of John’s encouragement when he wrote,
My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth.
1 John 3:18 NKJV
I felt at times like the woman who was healed when she reached out and touched the edge of Jesus’s cloak. She felt, like me, that she was an outsider who did not belong. She, like me, had no strength left to carry on with life. She was desperate and afraid of being turned away. All she could do was stretch out her arm for help. But the Lord knew she was there and gave her all His attention. He healed her and encouraged her faith, and sent her on her way.
The time I spent in that city and in that church was one of healing for me too. The kindness and the welcome I was shown changed my view of the world after those first difficult experiences in the UK. Being given help when it was undeserved has made me want to give help to others if I possibly can. It is a very different attitude to the one I saw demonstrated by all around me growing up in Iran. There, any charitable deed or gift was done or given with the hope of receiving recognition and praise. I know now that though my praise may be from God alone, that is more than enough for me. Jesus told His disciples that we should not let our left hand know what our right hand is doing. I have found that thankfulness for the gifts of grace, mercy and love in Christ is enough motivation for me.
My life has changed in many ways over the last few years. I have had to move to a bigger city to find work after receiving my leave to remain in the UK. I work long hours and I do not earn a lot of money. I do not have a large circle of family members around me. Life is not easy. But it has changed in a way that is indescribably wonderful. It is not so much that my life has changed, but that I have a new life. I have real life for the first time because I know Jesus!
Persian Voices 