Kidnapped and tortured by Hezbollah
On December 28, 2019, around 2:27 AM near Bab Al-Sharji in Baghdad (Iraq), I was abducted by armed men in black military uniforms bearing the insignia of Hezbollah I had been living and sleeping in the alleyways of Al-Tahrir Square with fellow protesters, using my artistic voice to resist repression that day I was resting when a Nissan pickup truck pulled up they swarmed me I tried to run one of them struck the back of my head with a wooden bat embedded with razors. The pain was instant. I collapsed. The last thing I saw before blacking out was the bloodied bat gleaming with flesh I woke bound and blindfolded my hands and feet were tied with coarse ropes that bit into my skin I was interrogated violently when I didn’t answer quickly I was punched repeatedly until I felt my nose shatter Blood flooded my mouth they beat me for my tribe name they accused me of cursing Iran and Khomeini when I denied it they took a brick and shattered the bones in my hands twenty times or more until my fingers were limp, swollen and unrecognizable I screamed until I passed out.
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I awoke to the sound of a woman being tortured in a nearby room Her screams pleading for mercy tore through me more deeply than the beatings my mind broke when they returned they threatened to “electrify Allah” out of me they strapped wires to my chest and legs and shocked me over and over with every jolt I felt my flesh sear by the ninth time, I couldn’t move not my hands not my feet not even my head I lay in a pool of my own sweat, blood, and fear.
They hung me upside down until I nearly lost consciousness. They slashed my fingers with a knife while forcing me to “hold” something they stabbed and cut open the arch of my foot one of them said, “Let’s just kill him,” but another replied, “Wait for the sheikh.” Eventually they threw my body into a vehicle and dumped me where they found me. Strangers carried me to the hospital. I stayed two days no police came no report was filed the staff looked through me like I didn’t exist I begged a nurse to remove my IVs and monitoring equipment. I had to leave before they came back to finish what they started.
Since then, I’ve lived in the shadows. The scars on my hands are permanent. My nervous system is damaged. I suffer daily from PTSD panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks. I wake up screaming, trapped in that same room again. My only crime was using my art and voice to protest injustice. For that, I was nearly killed.
