I cry when I speak about what I have done. I know that nothing I can do would be enough for me to deserve forgiveness. I only hope that my willingness to confess my crimes is proof that I am truly repentant. I used to live in a body of a criminal. I was a beast. I had a damaged soul in which everything beautiful had been destroyed. I killed the mercy and love within my heart and left, in its place, hatred and injustice.
I grew up in difficult circumstances. My father worshiped liquor. He couldn’t live without it. He lost his mind whenever he got drunk and beat my mother. My two sisters and I would search for a place to hide. If he found us, he would tie us to a date palm and lash us with a leather whip. My mother would try to help us and he would beat her, leaving us tied to the tree. He would tear her clothes and whip her. We had scars on our bodies.
Then, my mother took us and ran away to her family’s home. My uncles disliked my mother because she arrived with three children. Their wives were cruel to us and treated my mother like a servant.
I grew up full of suffering and anger.
One day in 1977, Nazem, one of my mother’s relatives, asked me if I wanted to volunteer to work in the Security Directorate. With his help, I was appointed in a month.
I was very happy. I told my mother about my new job, saying, “We will rent a house and get out of here. I won’t let you work. From now on, you will have your own home. Then, no one will tell you what to do.”
I had so many dreams. I wanted to achieve them quickly, without considering the cost.
On my first day of work, Nazem took me to the Security Directorate. It was in a large building with long halls and many rooms. Before we entered the main office, Nazem warned me, “Don’t ask questions, Jasim. And, don’t object to anything. Do you understand?”
Nazem introduced me to Colonel Mohamed. He was a tall, well-built man with big eyes.
“This is Jasim, Sir. The one I told you about.”
“So, he’s just as you described him.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The officer looked at me.
“Since you’re tall and strong, I have decided to give you a proper job.”
I didn’t ask any questions.
Then, Colonel Mohamed spoke with Nazem, “The Operations Room seems like a good place for him. He looks like a torturer!”
I was shocked when I heard that word. I knew what it meant. I didn’t say anything. I was afraid I would lose the job and return empty handed to my mother, without fulfilling any of my promises.
We left the officer’s room.
I asked Nazem, “Can I refuse this job? Or, choose another one?”
“What are you saying? You should thank God. Others dream of this opportunity. You will be punishing the criminals who threaten our security and stability. Don’t ask questions! Do you understand?”
I was quiet.
Nazem took me to a small, windowless room with various instruments. There were blood stains on the walls. The floors were rough. The room was lit by a single, yellow bulb. Inside, was a tall, heavily built man with a dark complexion and a thick moustache. His nickname was Abu Husam.
Nazem said, “This is the new employee. Officer Mohamed has ordered that you train him for three days. Is that clear? I won’t repeat it.”
Then, he turned to me, “Jasim, you’ll stay here to learn. After three days, you’ll start working. You are not to leave this room until six p.m.”
Nazem left me with Abu Husam.
I was scared. I felt lost. I didn’t know what to do.
While I stood there thinking, two men brought a young man into the room. One of the men said, “Show no mercy until he confesses.”
Abu Husam beat the young man with heavy blows. He kicked him. Then, he started to undress him. He began to beat the man’s private parts with a cable. The man was screaming and begging Abu Husam to leave him alone. This only made Abu Husam increase the beating until the man’s skin broke and he started to bleed. The man fainted. Abu Husam left the young man on the floor and called the two guards. They came and carried him back to his cell.
Minutes later, they brought in another man who was in his thirties. Abu Husam started to torture him by hanging him by his legs from the ceiling and beating him with a cable until his shoulder was displaced and he fainted. Then, Abu Husam let him down to the floor.
I felt ill as I watched Abu Husam torturing these people.
It was hard for me to control myself.
A short while later, they brought in a woman who refused to inform on her husband, who was a member of the Dawa Party.
Abu Husam undressed her. He made her sit on a chair and tied her down. He connected electric wires to her hands, feet, and breasts. He began to shock her. She was shaking and screaming. She began to drool and then, she fainted. Abu Husam took her out of the chair, dressed her, and called the guards to take her away.
At that moment, I hated myself.
I knew that soon I would become like this man.
At the end of my training that day, Nazem came in and ordered me to go home. When he saw my condition, he took me home and we spoke.
“What happened to you, Jasim? This is only the first day. You were only watching. What would you be like if it were you that had been working?”
“What did those people do?” I asked.
“They did a terrible, unforgivable thing. They want to overthrow the government. They want to destabilize the country. If that happened, there would be chaos, terror, killing, and looting. Don’t believe that any of them are innocent! We are the innocent ones! You are an innocent man! You suffered tragic days with your evil father. You had to live dependent on your uncles. Forget what you’re thinking about. Prove that you’re capable in your new job. Don’t let yourself become weak before those traitors. Then, you’ll be able to settle down. Then, your mother who suffered for your sake for so long will finally rest.”
He dropped me home and left.
My mother saw that I was sad and asked, “Is there something wrong, son?”
I looked in her eyes, shining with happiness, seeing me return from my first day at work and filled with the hope that we would soon have a better, more settled life. I couldn’t tell her what happened that day.
“Nothing, mother, I am just not used to this new job.”
“Everybody finds things difficult at the beginning,” she said, “but they get used to it.”
I spent that night thinking about how I was supposed to hold the cable and beat people. I was filled with pain. Then, I remembered Nazem’s words, saying those people were criminals and traitors. I began to tell myself that they deserved what was happening to them because they had betrayed our nation. I convinced myself that they must be punished.
Soon, the three days of training were over and the day I was to start working had arrived. I didn’t sleep that night. I knew that from then on I would be a torturer.
In the morning, I went to the Security Directorate; Nazem was waiting for me. He said, “Don’t let me down. Do you understand?”
I went to the Operations Room and found Abu Husam waiting to supervise my work and assess me.
The first person I was to torture was a man in his forties who was accused of joining the Dawa Party. I held the cable, but my hand was trembling. How could I beat this man who was older than me and whose eyes were begging for mercy?
Abu Husam shouted at me, “Don’t let your hands shake! Don’t be a coward!”
I raised the cable to beat the man, but I couldn’t find the strength to hit him. Then, Abu Husam slapped me hard in the face.
An officer who was in the room said, “You’re a soldier here. Those who volunteer to work in the Security Directorate are the servants of the government. They follow orders. This time, I will have mercy on you. Your punishment will be minimal. If it wasn’t for Sergeant Nazem, who is dear to us, then I’d really hurt you.”
He turned to Abu Husam and said, “Carry out the orders!”
Abu Husam tied my hand down and hit it with a metal pipe until it broke. This was my punishment because I couldn’t carry out the orders. My hand was in a cast for three weeks.
After my hand healed, I returned to work. This time, the officer decided to supervise me personally. I was forced to torture a woman with electricity. I undressed her and connected her private parts to wires in the way Abu Husam had done. I shocked her until she fainted. I don’t know how my heart could be filled with such cruelty.
“Well done!” said the officer. “That’s the way to do it! Those people are a plague! They’re trying to destroy our country. You must show them no mercy!”
His words filled me with complicated feelings. I wanted to pull myself together. I wanted to have a merciless heart. After that day, I committed many violations as a torturer.
I began to fulfill my dreams and pursue my own needs. I rented a house for my family. I worked hard for the approval of the officers, and when they said, “good job!” it meant a lot to me.
One day, the officer ordered me to torture a man who was a member of the insurgents. The officer asked me to use electricity. I connected his penis to very high voltage. I was merciless. When he fainted, I disconnected the wires and he urinated. His urine was mixed with blood. Then, I broke one of his legs.
We had an arrangement with a lieutenant colonel that whenever a beautiful girl was sent to our department, I was to beat her for a little while with a cable or stick. Then, I would take her to his room to spend the night. When I took a prisoner to his room, I would stand next to the door after he locked it and listen to the woman screaming or begging him to leave her alone. I could hear how he would beat them. He raped so many women.
At this time, I drank heavily. I tried not to think about all the things I was doing. It was my job.
I once tortured a man who was held in an underground cell in solitary confinement. He was accused of being a Dawa Party activist. He was a very handsome man. I burned his skin with a hot metal bar and mutilated his body. Some of the officers ordered a group of homosexuals who worked at the Security Directorate to rape him. Later, he was taken to a remote, uninhabited area where there is nothing but open sky and stars and he was executed.
I continued to work. Then, God punished me by giving me a very beautiful wife. She was a very good woman with good manners, but I treated her badly. My job had affected my personality.
At that time, the security officers used to come to my house to drink and have a good time with their girlfriends, who were often dancers they met in nightclubs. My wife didn’t want the officers to visit our house. I beat her, and told her to shut up. I explained that our life depended on my obedience to the officers. I told her that it was impossible to refuse them, even if they asked for something terrible.
Still, I wouldn’t let these men see my wife.
One day, one of the officers went to the central market in Amara with Nazem. That day, my wife was also at the market. They passed by her and Nazem greeted her because we were relatives. She spoke with him.
The officer asked Nazem, “Who is that woman?”
“She is Jasim’s wife, Sir.”
“So, Jasim has such a beautiful wife, and he doesn’t tell me?!” he said. “I’m going to punish that shit!”
Nazem came quickly to tell me about this. He warned me of the officer’s cruelty. When I finished work, I went straight home and beat my wife. Then, I sent her off to her family’s home, and asked her not to come back.
That day, I destroyed my life and lost my children.
The officer called me back to the Security Directorate. When I arrived, he met me in his private office. He was drunk.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your wife, Jasim?”
“What wife?”
“Do you have more than one wife?”
“No, Sir. I have only one wife, sir. She is at her family’s house. I divorced her at the cleric’s office.”
“You shit! You divorced her?! Why did you do that? Why didn’t you leave her for me?!”
“You are of a higher level, much better than this woman. She gave me a very hard time. It is not worth spending a moment of your time with her.”
“I want you to bring me the official divorce documents.”
Then, I was forced to go and formally divorce my wife. I thought this would help me save her.
When the officer saw the official divorce documents, he asked me, “Now, how can I get her?”
“I don’t think that’s possible, sir. She has cancer. That was why I divorced her. You shouldn’t get near her.”
“What a pity that this beauty carries such a terrible disease.”
One day, I was torturing a detainee by removing his fingernails. He had been accused of smuggling arms to the opposition in the marshes. Even though he was tied down, he was screaming and fighting back. Without realizing it, I scratched my hand with the metal instrument I used to remove prisoners’ fingernails.
Gradually, the wound became worse. I went to a well-known surgeon. He conducted some tests and found out that I had become diabetic. I had gangrene due to my high blood sugar and he said that it would affect my entire body unless they removed the infected part, which was my right hand.
This came as a terrible shock.
Yet, I knew that it was God’s punishment since I used my right hand to hold the torture instruments.
My hand was amputated. I became useless to the Security Directorate and retired in 2001.
Slowly, I began to look back at those bitter times and to think about the crimes I committed.
My mother passed away. My sisters got married.
I became very lonely. When I was alone, I faced my thoughts, sorrows, and past crimes. They began to haunt me. It made me almost crazy to remember the voices of all the people I had tortured, screaming and begging. I spent my nights crying for what I did and for the injustice I committed by harming so many people. I saw myself as a monster.
I went to the imam of Al-Hussein District Mosque to ask him for advice on how I could atone for my crimes. The imam told me to declare my true repentance to God. He said that only God was capable of forgiving my sins.
So, that is what I did.
I began to ask God to forgive me for having done wrong and making so many people suffer. I believed that God’s will was stronger than man’s will and that God was punishing me for what I had done.
I saw that I had become addicted to violence. My heart began to see clearly. I tried to cast away the darkness and seek truth as the way to salvation. The reason I am confessing all of this today is out of the hope that God will forgive me.
I decided to return to my former wife and children. I told her that I had declared my repentance. I explained that I had become a completely new person and that if she returned to me it would help me pass through my crisis.
She returned, but I discovered that my children could not accept me. To this day, they treat me with cruelty and hatred and act as if I am a stranger who means nothing to them.
After the regime change, I was frequently harassed, despite the fact that the Sheikh talked to the community and explained that I had declared my repentance two years before the government fell. Still I saw contempt and hatred in their eyes, as if they were saying, “This is the one who tortured innocent people. This is one of the Security Directorate’s loyal servants!”
I decided to move far from the main city.
I now spend most of my time at home, trying to be closer to God. I ask God to forgive me for my sins, to have mercy upon me, and to free my conscience from its suffering.
For God is forgiving and merciful.