All language subtitles for Jostoju AKA The Search (Amir Naderi, 1980)

The Search

Written and Directed by:
Amir Naderi

Death to the Shah!

The missing persons from October 9, 1978
to February 11, 1979.

The missing martyrs.

The missing ones from
the Revolution.

Produced by the Radio and TV department
of the Islamic Republic of Iran.

Black Friday

17, Shahrivar Ave.
(October 9)

Waiting for a missing one

Missing

Find my son.

Missing

We are waiting for you.

My father, my brother.

My sister has been desperate
for 9 months already,

she is never at home.

She walks around like she is crazy.

She goes to the Radio Square.

She says: My child
is in this building.

She always passes by there. She cries.

She says: They walled him in.

I tell her:
No, there are no more corpses.

And she says: If that's true,
he would be a martyr.

I would have prepared
a funeral service for him.

I'm ready to die
and to become a martyr.

I don't know what happened to him.

My kid is 5 months old.

They all went, him as well.

And I hope each one
had their own reasons.

I tell my mother
that he will come back.

But me, I believe that...

If until now...

He was 30 years old.

His hand was wounded.

No one said anything to his mom.

They bandaged his hands.

And he left with his brother
and others...

They came back... he didn't.

Someone said,

a soldier was seen shooting him.

Everyone says something different.

He left on November, 6.

My son... he went away.

Find my son, dead or alive.

So that all this wait is over.

So I can finally die...

It's been one year already.

Missing

My kids and I, we are deeply worried.

He left on December 31, 1978.

My bride told me:
"Your son didn't come back home.

We were looking for him in vain."

We don't have any news.

As soon as someone knocks
at the door, I open it,

hoping it's him.

In every hospital,

at the Evin Prison,

at the Behesht Zahra cemetery,

at the morgue. Photos
of the martyrs are everywhere.

At the hospitals, people show rings,

keys and handkerchiefs,

but there was nothing from him there.

We looked for him all over
Behesht Zahra cemetery.

At morgue no one has news of him.

Even at the tombstones...

nothing.

A zillion times
we looked at the pictures.

After the big massacre...

one couldn't see the corpses.

We saw only the photos.

I couldn't find my son among them.

I'm Fatemeh, wife
of a missing person,

Davoud Safai-Nejad.
I have a 6 year old kid...

another one 2 months old,
born after his disappearance.

We could see the dead bodies,
the clothes, the watches,

the ID cards, but nothing from him.

His wife was pregnant, when I lost him.

His kid was born, after he disappeared.

He disappeared
on the day of the Revolution.

I don't think he will come back.

Because he was a truck driver,

We are always checking...

all truck drivers.

I saw people who

looked a lot like him from behind.

But looking at the front,

I saw I was wrong.

One evening, I was dreaming that
my kid sat next to me and asked me:

Mom, are you crying? And I say, "Yes".

"Look at my back" he said.

His back was black.

He told me: don't cry anymore.

I fell asleep,

I saw my son lying on the ground,
his head was bleeding.

He told me:
When you cry, they beat me.

Three days later,
he was dressed in black.

He told me: Now I'm fine.

I know nothing anymore.

I looked for him at the Bazar
and in the park.

Nothing.

I can't cry anymore.

We don't know
if he is dead or alive.

We believe that they killed him.

There is no sign of him.

At the Behesht Zahra cemetery
they told us:

Take one from
an unidentified grave

and put a tombstone on it
with his name.

We haven't done that.
We still wait for his return.

I made an announcement to see if anyone
saw him getting killed,

I'm not a weeping father,

but I really want peace.

The house was empty.
I took my book.

And I saw the picture of my brother.

I couldn't contain myself.

A beautiful memory of him.

Every evening
he measured himself and said:

Father, now I'm ready to wrestle you.

My mother believes
we will still find him.

We distributed kerosene to the poor.

He was a benefactor.

And the rememberance I have from him
are the empty oil peats.

I still believe I will meet him.

I scream: Jafar!
He answers: Dear aunt!

One day, he came from the
hairdresser's and said:

Look, auntie,
how beautiful I am...

My father went away during
the Revolution.

He didn't come back.

One the evening before Moharam,

we heard shootings.

My brother went out,
never came back.

The Revolution was on January 28.

I lost my brother.

My father went outside
during the Revolution.

My mother and I look for him.

We've never found him again.

My brother is sick.

Death (certificate)

My husband's hand was wounded.

Our neighbour took care of it
in the courtyard.

One night, he went outside.

In the morning,
his clothes were wet.

He went to his mother.

When he came back, he slept a bit.

After breakfast, he left again.

He said my brother told me
he had a weapon.

He stayed and they
seized the weapon arsenal.

He didn't come back.

I'd never have thought that.

The guards attacked
the Air force square.

The night after that,

my son left with a weapon.

I came, deeply worried,
to comfort his mother.

I went to my house
and came back again.

It's 10 months ago,
that he went away.

I told my mother
that he'd still come back.

I'm still hoping for it.

We are waiting for his return.

My name is Orang Fararouni,
son of Shahriar,

residing in Tehran.

In January of 79,

my son, Mehrdad Fararouni,

left the house to
watch the protestors,

who were going to Farah-Abad.

He didn't come back home
in the evening...

neither in the next day.

We looked for him everywhere.

We went to see his friend.

But he also hadn't seen him.

I thought he went on a trip.

Before he went out he didn't
take any IDs with him,

only a jacket,

he went and said he will be back.

We were worried,

until on May 1st, worker's day,

in the year 79.

It was May day and worker's celebration

there was a documentary about
the Revolution on TV...

showing the brawls
at the Air force Square.

Until it got to Farah-Abad square,

I saw my son,
covered with a cloth...

but his head was showing.

I had doubts.
I called the TV station.

They told me to come tomorrow
at 10 to watch it again.

Me and his small brother,

went to the TV station.

To see the film once more.

They paused the video.

It was my son.

We went back home
and were really sad.

To find out where he is buried...

we looked everywhere.

In the morgue, in the hospitals,

the Behesht Zahra cemetery.

We didn't find his grave,

not a single trace of it.

Now we don't know,
what we should do.

Born in Kashan on 1941.

For 22 years I've been

taking photographs at the morgue.

Institute of Legal Medicine

My child has disappeared.

My father, my sister
and my husband have disappeared.

Find him... Show me his grave...

My son is missing
my sister is missing.

They haven't found his body.

They say he is a martyr.

I want my brother.

He's a martyr
but I couldn't find his body.

My mother is dying, she wants her son.

Autopsy Room

Cold Chamber

We tirelessly looked for him
under the graves.

He's been missing for 272 days.

I beg you to find my child.

Even if not for my sake,
for the sake of his children.

My son is missing.
My husband is missing.

I'm sure he's a martyr.

We know the number of corpses
that were given to us,

but I can say it roughly,

there are a lot of missing corpses.

Considering the number of clients.

Find his body.

Many come here
in order to find their Martyr,

and we couldn't find them either.

More than 5000 came here
looking for their missing ones.

I didn't see his body,

I didn't see his dead body.

I also dislike anybody
saying he's dead.

During the Revolution
people would come,

looking for their family members.

They examined the photos
in the Cold Chamber.

Everyday it was a different group.

He left and didn't come back,

we are still waiting for him.

The exact number of people killed,

registered at the morgue,

is the same as the Army has given.

He has disappeared, that's for sure.

People came looking
for their missing ones.

They couldn't all enter
the Cold Chamber.

They were looking under the corpses.

The number of inquiries
for their missing ones

was higher than the number of corpses.

This young man is missing.

What does that mean: "missing people"?

They disappeared
as the shootings started.

Because people mention the exact date...

which coincided with the shootings.

I can take that as an indication,

because the number
of delivered bodies...

is significantly smaller than

the number of missing persons.

People who come here

and don't obtain any information,

they leave in despair and
there's nothing we can do about it.

I went to the morgue
for days on end.

I looked at every body.

I still haven't found
two of my friend.

Starting October 9, a certain number

of bodies was brought
here, to the morgue.

Those who were identified

were given back to their families.

Those not identified were photographed

so they can be identified later.

Hospitals sent some of them directly
to the Behesht Zahra cemetery

and, identified or not,
they were buried.

People came here everyday,
asking about those who are missing.

They said, their child disappeared,

without any trace.

2835 unidentified. 78.10.10.

They were looking
for their family members.

They came in groups.

They were looking for the graves.

But they didn't find them.

If they had wanted to bury
all the young people who died,

Behesht Zahra cemetery
would be too small.

People are looking
for their lost family.

Between 7 to 8 thousand bodies...
as far as we know.

6000 bodies were not found.

What happened to them?

Between 5 and 6 thousand
have disappeared.

They said: We can't find the bodies.

Where were they taken to?

Around 4 thousand persons
were looking for the dead.

A captain gave the order to fire.

Nobody was allowed to take the bodies.

They loaded them onto a truck.

They cleaned off the blood
with a water truck.

I saw the loaders that
took the corpses away.

The army used trucks to get rid of
all those bodies.

The ones that people got hold of
were taken to the hospital.

I saw it all with my own eyes.

Loaders took the corpses away.

The wounded, the dead
and the living ones,

were loaded up at night,

in garbage crushers,
and trucks of the City council...

and taken away.

The army let...

the corpses be taken away with trucks.

They threw the corpses

into the garbage truck,

and took them outside of Tehran.

Dead or alive, they were

stuffed into the garbage crushers.

They took them out,
behind the brick oven,

and threw in the graves.

Before and during the Revolution,

they threw them in salt lake.

I transport bricks to and from Tehran.

On the road to Afsarieh,
I saw corpses.

They were on an army truck,

heading to the brick oven.

They buried the living and the dead.

The driver of a bulldozer,

who buried them,
has committed suicide.

The road to Khorasan stank.

I asked people why was that.

They said:
That's the smell of corpses.

On the top of the trash,
near Shooting Range

the driver went crazy.

They wanted to bury them.

He said: No!
The officer wanted to shoot him.

He went crazy.

One of our comrades...

didn't want to bury them.
They killed him.

They dragged the corpses
onto garbage trucks...

of the garbage collection at
the road going to Abali.

I'm Nasser Pourbakhsh, truck driver.

On October 9, I have friend who is
a loader driver in the City council.

He told me:
"The bodies they drove away,

in order to throw them
on the garbage heap,

on the road to Djadjeroud,

the army took me during nighttime,

to bury the corpses under the trash."

Shooting Range

They told my friend,

he should put trash
on top of the bodies.

"But I didn't want to do that.

They threatened me
in order to force me to do it."

Between 500 and 600
dead were buried here.

One month after they were buried,

he got sick for some days.

He wasn't himself anymore.
Then, he went missing.

We never heard anything
from him anymore.

Dead and wounded,

they were all thrown in the graves,

and were buried.

They filled up the graves.

Many were buried.

They were brought in trucks,

and were thrown onto the trash pile.

I still remember my friend's name.

But because of his family,
I'd rather not mention his name.

When the shootings started,
my son went away.

We didn't hear anything from him.

They were thrown in the ditches

close to the cement factory.

I rummage around
from daylight till dawn...

hoping that I'll find something.

To find the body of my son.

What happened to our son?

Have they killed him?
Buried him?

His mother has lost her mind.

It's been one year
that they killed my son.

He was nowhere to be found,
neither hospital nor Behesht Zahra.

He is buried here, they say,
close to the cement factory.

After the slaughtering
of October 9th,

the bodies were taken in trucks,

here to Messgar Abbad...

and buried with loaders.

City council: Behesht Zahra

They ordered me to use plaster.

The bodies were thrown in here.

I buried them under the lime.

They brought those murdered
and threw them in here.

The army brought the bodies

to bury them here in Hassan-Abbad.

Most of those killed
from Sarchechmeh...

are buried here.

They threw them in the valley.

The army bulldozers
shoveled the soil on them.

My brother has disappeared.

My mum has died because of this.
My dad is sick.

I've searched here
in vain, the whole summer.

They say that they are buried here.

I've searched here
summer, winter and fall.

During the Revolution
my brother left and never came back.

I think they buried him alive.

I don't know, if he was wounded
or if he is dead.

I looked for him at the morgue,
and everywhere else.

At the cemetery, at the hospitals.

I was told he was buried here.

My mother has died because of this.

They told me I should just take
a grave without name.

But I didn't accept that.
I wanted my brother.

I was searching around the lake,

at 4 in the afternoon,

With one of my friends
named "Omrani",

the day after October 9th,

two helicopters,
I saw with my own eyes...

throwing two 'packages' in the lake,

before disappearing again.

This white stain in the swamp.

The helicopters were flying low,

released the 'packages' there
and disappeared again.

Airplanes at night
were dropping corpses from the sky.

Specially on moonlit nights
it was clearly visible.

They tied stones to their feet,

and let them fall into the lake.

They brought
the bodies in helicopters...

and threw them in the lake.

And because this lake is salty,

it decomposes the bodies
without leaving any trace.

We didn't find his body.

If we've found his body
we wouldn't be worried.

My child is not the only one missing.

I go to Behesht Zahra and look around...

and say to myself where can I find you.

I lost two people.
I don't know where they are.

It's almost a year now.

They aren't dead.
I'm waiting for them.

He was 27 years old.

It's been 9 months since
I've last seen Jafar.

My only wish is to see his grave.

We couldn't even find his body.

Everyday I searched
and I couldn't find him.

My brother is missing.
My Father is missing.

My Husband is also missing.

It's been almost a year he's missing.

They went and never came back.

His daughter is constantly
thinking about him.

His child is missing her so much.

Ali is missing,

We don't know if he's dead or alive.

My child is missing.
I beg you to find my child.