My name is Maysoon Majidi, I was born on the 29th of July 1996. This is my voice! I have a degree in theatre and a master's degree, I am a political activist and a member of the human rights organisation 'Hana', I participate in the coordination of Kurds in the Diaspora, I am an activist for women's rights and the rights of oppressed nations. As for refugee rights, I have always been involved in various activities, such as organising the UN demonstrations in Erbil (Iraq) after the death of Behzad Mahmoudi, a political refugee. I have carried out many other activities. I have been participating in the struggles of the Kurdish people for seven years.
In 2019, I had to flee Iran with my brother and worked in television in Iraqi Kurdistan. For the last two years I have been working as a reporter and freelance journalist. During the revolution for 'Jina-Mahsa Amini' I organised the first performance in front of the UN headquarters in Erbil and set up the channel 'Ack news' to publish real time news. Both my brother and I received threatening messages from the Iranian regime, so we had to leave Iraq because the UN avoided any support, help or protection. In August 2023, together with other activists, we paid five thousand euros to enter Turkey as refugees. We had to walk through the mountains. In Turkey we stayed with an old lady for two days, then we went to Van and after five days we got our fake passports. From there we went to Istanbul by various means and cars (as a year had passed, I do not remember all the details). There were 15 of us in Istanbul and we were cheated (...). They robbed us of the money we had paid to come to Italy, they threatened us, bullied us and insulted us all the time.
We were left in Turkey for five months (August to December). During this time we asked our family and relatives for financial help (...). My brother and I had to wait until December to get the money to come to Italy (almost 50,000 euros). My family had to sell the car and the house to get this money. On 25 December we went to the Aksara Hotel in Istanbul to leave for Italy the next day. There were many other passengers. (...) Finally, on 26 December, at 6pm, we were transferred to the port of Izmir with another 30 or 40 people. On 27 December, together with passengers from another lorry, we arrived at the beach and walked for hours through the mountains. At 12 noon, after being searched and leaving our mobile phones behind, we were divided into small groups, carrying only one backpack, and transferred to a boat with steamers. Each of us had a black rucksack with only the essentials. The boat had three small rooms and a lounge. The women and children were in one room and one cabin was for the family (...). The men, most of them Afghans, stayed in the hall. There were three toilets, one for us which broke on the first day and was out of order; (...) In the urgency to go to the toilet we had to use plastic bags and then throw them out. We vomited a lot because of the terrible situation. The boat's engine kept breaking down (...). The pump also broke and water came into the boat; the boys had to empty it with the baskets they threw out.
My body was getting weaker and weaker from seasickness. My head was spinning. I realised I was menstruating. I went to the toilet to check. It was true, but I couldn't find my rucksack to get the pad. I went back up to look for it and saw that a man had sat down in my place. I tried everything, even arguing, but he wouldn't move. I felt sick and couldn't breathe. A woman who had been on top all the time, abusing everyone, started to scold me. I responded with words. Slowly everyone started to shout. A man tried to calm me down and asked me to sit on a piece of wood at the bottom of the boat, saying that the other passengers could also go up to breathe (...) On 30 December I stayed in the last room next to the women and children. The smell from the bathroom was so strong that you could smell it from upstairs. On 31 December they told us that we were in the open sea and that there was no longer any risk of being seen by the police, so we could go upstairs without any problems. (...)
Everyone left their real names and Instagram contacts. The journey was over and the Italian coast was in sight. On a foggy December morning, they lowered the dinghy into the water. Everyone was happy and started filming and sending messages to let people know they were safe. Even I, sitting on the wood, sent a message and selfies with my brother to the family. My tongue was trembling because of the cold and I had to repeat my voice message several times. (...) Five minutes after sending the video, they said that five people had to come down because we went up at the beginning! My brother and I were named (...).
I thought everything was going well, I started taking pictures of the mushrooms growing on the ground, the trees, nature, and then we took some selfies. A Kurdish man was carrying my rucksack because I was bleeding. We had not gone far when I heard a noise from behind! I saw a shadow behind the trees! As soon as I called the others, the policemen came out, I was scared when I saw them because I thought they were going to beat us (like the Bulgarian policemen) and that's why I immediately said we were refugees: 'Help us! There were many of them. First they asked us to show them what we had in our backpacks, and then they searched us. One of them opened the hotspot on his mobile phone for me to access the internet, so I could look up my name online and show him some photos of my activities. I then managed to communicate with them through a digital translator. I explained that we were political activists and that the person with me was my brother: 'We are Iranians and we don't want to stay in Italy. We are going to Germany'. He wrote to me on the digital translator that I had to stay calm. And that they would transfer us to a camp, just to let us rest and help ourselves. Then they would let us go. I thanked them.
We were then taken to an open-air car park. We joined the other passengers who had arrived before us. We lined up to have our photographs taken and our sensitive details recorded. Water and biscuits were handed out. My brother and I sat in a corner. The policeman and the mediator asked me who was driving the boat. I replied: 'I don't know'. (...) The mediator repeated the question: 'Who was in charge on the boat?' (...) I answered: 'I don't know'. They left. A short time later they asked us to get into a white bus. (...) My feet were swollen and my shoes were dirty and wet. I took them off and washed them. Then I went outside and sat down. (...) That's when they came to arrest me. I still don't understand why.
