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Ten Soldiers with Dogs and in Heavy Boots Break into the Doors Searching for Ghassan Dhaif «2-4»

2012-12-01 - 3:56 p



(Bahrain Mirror (Exclusive


 The Daif Family was a special case. Three medics from the same family were in detention: Ghassan, his wife Zahraa Al-Sammak, and Ghassan’s elder brother Bassem Dhaif. All three stood for trial before a court-martial. Ghassan and Zahraa’s three children, brought up in affluence and comfort, were now living an experience of pain and hardship that was far beyond their imagination: more than three weeks without both parents around, over five months without their father, going through a horrifying experience at the Criminal Investigation Department and the stressful uncertainty and anticipation of the fate awaiting their parents. The children suddenly grew up. Many, many things were broken in their hearts, except for their sense of pride for what their parents did and stood for, a feeling that kept growing inside them every day.
Where does the story begin? How did Ghassan and Zahraa live the events of February 14th? How were they arrested? What was their experience in prison? How did their trial episodes go? This is what we are trying to put before our readers.

Day of Cleansing

Wednesday, March 17th was the “Day of Cleansing”. That was the phrase used in the 3rd statement, broadcast by
   
 Ministry of Defense spokesman on BTV, to describe the day: “The Security Forces and National Guards, aided by the Bahrain Defense Force began today, Wednesday, March 17th 2011, the process of cleansing the GCC Roundabout, the Financial Harbor area, the Salmaniya Hospital and their surroundings”. The term ‘cleansing’ here meant no less than genocide. Under that sphere of action, was the call for the forces of Peninsula Shield, and under that sphere of action was the declaration of the Emergency Law, with scandalous disregard to laws stipulated in the human rights treaties and the international agreements ratified by the Bahraini Government. In the process of‘cleansing’, only acts of violation and law of the jungle would be seen.

Before 6 o’clock that morning, Zahraa left to Salmaniya Hospital and Ghassan stayed at home. “There was no one
 in the hospital surroundings. When I parked my car, the Apaches were hovering very low over my head. I had never seen war before, but what I saw at that moment was nothing but war. I felt melancholic and heavy-hearted. I hurried to the operation theatre. The nurses there told me that the Roundabout was attacked in the early morning hours. They started preparing the operation room for taking casualties and I went down to the Emergency Department to get ready for incoming cases. The doctors at the Emergency were in a deplorable state of fatigue and exhaustion. They told me about the cases they treated as a result of the military attack on Sitra the night before. Some of them said: ‘Had we not been here, the death toll would have been in dozens’. The doctors were not able to leave hospital that night and so they had to stay there until the next morning. In effect, they were not allowed to leave hospital for three more days. It was like death.”

Cleansing of Salmaniya

Zahraa continues her story. “We remained waiting for casualties. None arrived. We asked about the ambulances and were told that four of them had their tires punctured by snipers’ bullets, and the ones that went to the Roundabout were not allowed anywhere near. Gradually, we began seeing the military forces surrounding the hospital. They burst into the courtyard and emergency parking area and attacked the people who were gathering there since last night. They smashed and destroyed everything in their way, even the medical tent erected two days ago and fully equipped for receiving and treating casualties. They smashed all the cars parked in the hospital parking and even the cars parked in the hospital surroundings. They closed all hospital gates to prevent anyone from coming in or going out of the hospital. People suffocating from heavy tear gas shelling fled into Emergency. We watched all of this madness through the glass windows looking outside in all directions and on all Salmaniya hospital floors. We saw the military planting arms and guns in cars and filming their fabrications. Everyone watched with surprise and terror. What we saw could never be anything but a cleansing war. Indeed, cleansing of any sign or feature of humanity.”

Besieged and Beaten

The hospital was besieged from all directions and the gates were closed. No one could come in nor go out. The
   
 military forces wreaked havoc in the emergency parking areas, breaking and smashing anything coming in their way. No move, no breathing, nothing was allowed. We received distress calls from all directions: Health Centers, private hospitals, but no ambulance was allowed out through any of the gates. We received calls from Health Centers reporting critical cases which needed more sophisticated procedures and facilities. They had cases of bleeding and needed blood; there were deaths and corpuses; Dr. Khuloud Al-Durazi called from Budaiya Health Centre asking for equipment necessary for a woman in labor. No one was allowed in or out. At the time, Dr. Nazar Al-Baharna was Minister of Health. We heard that he had met with the Head of Security Forces to request permission for ambulances to leave to bring in the emergencies and critical cases.”

Zahraa goes on, “At 12 noon, and after many exhausting attempts on the part of the Health Minister, a number of doctors were allowed to leave for the aid of those cases, however, on the condition that they left only in the ambulances of the Military Hospital. We were apprehensive of a deception. The male doctors told us to stay and that only men should go. Indeed, there was a deception. The doctors were beaten and profanely insulted at the gate on their way out. One of the doctors had a broken finger. Then they were allowed to exit after one of the military forces said they had permission to get out. The first ambulance that was allowed to leave brought in 5 casualties from Budaiya Health Centre.

Let Us Leave!

Zahraa has more to add. “The first case I received was from Ibn-al-Nafis private hospital. The patient was in a very bad state. He had a cut in the artery. He had lost so much blood and his haemoglobin was down to level 3. We rushed him to the operating theatre to save his life. The second case was a corpus, also from Ibn-al-Nafis. We began following on critical cases that needed immediate operations. One case was a bullet in the abdomen, in the intestines area. We treated the coming cases with terror surrounding us and the Apaches roaring above our heads. It was a desolate and suffocating morning. I remained in the operation theatre with other doctors, nurses and anesthesia staff. Most of the anesthesia staff was expatriates.”

“After duty hours, we tried to go home. My family and relatives were extremely worried about me. However, we heard that anyone who attempted to leave the hospital was beaten. An announcement came through the hospital paging system that no one should leave the hospital, and that the Administration would take no responsibility for the safety of anyone attempting to leave. That night I had to stay at Salmaniya Hospital. The next morning, at 8 o’clock, I decided to go home no matter what. I saw the military searching everyone trying to leave. They asked for their ID’s, asked them about their job positions, and wrote down their names before they let them out. Only one gate was open as an exit, the rest were closed. This was how I got out.”

Zahraa continues. “The first thing I said to Ghassan when I got home was: ‘What I saw at the hospital today is far beyond my endurance. We cannot stay. Let us leave the country until everything calms down.’ I was too scared for Ghassan, especially after hearing of the arrest of Dr. Ali Al-Ekri. He was taken from the operating room after being targeted by the infamous ‘Al-Rasid’ programme on Bahrain TV.”

“Next, It Would Be Me.”

How did Ghassan go through those stressful moments? “I was so worried for my wife and my colleagues. I died a hundred times each day because I couldn’t reach the injured or help the wounded. At the same time, I knew I was only a few steps from being arrested. My photo was shown on TV with Dr. Ali Al-Ekri. Next, it would be me. We never expected that a doctor or a professional would be arrested for performing their duties, but it happened. I learnt from someone that the military were searching for me in the operation rooms, in the pharmacy, and in the stores. One told me that ten soldiers in heavy boots were breaking into doors with their dogs and weapons looking for Ghassan Dhaif.”

Zahraa adds, “Dr. Ali Al-Ekri was arrested on Thursday, Dr. Nada Dhaif on Friday at dawn. No one knew in what direction things were going. Amidst the declared cleansing war, everyone lived the terror of the unknown. We made a quick decision: to leave the country on Saturday, March 19th. We didn’t tell anyone, not even our closest relatives, except for Bassem, Ghassan’s brother, who lived next door. We told him so that he would make the necessary arrangements for the maids. Bassem bid his brother farewell and cried a lot. He felt that something awaited his brother.”

Zahraa continues. “We arrived at the airport and checked our luggage in. At the Immigration, the officer asked, ‘Are you Ghassan Dhaif?’ Ghassan responded, ‘Yes.’ They took his passport to one office. Ghassan tried to calm us down saying that those were routine procedures, but I knew deep down in my heart that it was not over. They called him to the office, and I held my children close to me. After a while, they came to us and took our mobile phones and laptops. Half an hour later, one of them came to me and said, ‘You can leave with the children. Ghassan will stay with us.’ I told him I wasn’t leaving without my husband, and asked what had happened to him? He shouted in my face, ‘Forget about Ghassan.’ I screamed back, ‘I don’t want to leave. I want to go back home.’ He said, ‘We’ll take you back home.’ They gave us back our phones and laptops and led us through a back door out of the airport. We were surprised to see so many cars and so many masked men holding their rifles and guns. Some masked men with their weapons accompanied us in a civilian car.”

“You Live in a Palace Yet You Oppose the Government?”

Zahraa continues her story. “As she was getting into the car, my daughter, Fatima, had a glimpse of her father. He
   
 had his head covered and was pushed into another car behind us. She didn’t tell me until much later on, for we were not allowed to talk then. My children are: Fatima 17, Mohammad 13, and Yusuf 9. They were trembling. I thought they would pass out of fear. They had never imagined they would live such an experience one day.

We were not taken home as they promised. They took us to the Criminal Investigation Department, close to the Women Police. When we got there, they opened a door to a closed room and let us in. The room was dark. In the corner we saw the petite figure of a lady or a young girl. Blindfolded, she lay on a wooden bench. I didn’t know who the girl was. After 5 minutes they came back and took us out of the room, ‘It’s too dark in here come and sit outside.’ Later on, they came to take me alone to go with them to do a house search. I told them I couldn’t leave my children alone; they were too scared. They said, ‘Don’t worry, they’ll be safe with the women police.’”

“First they took me to Isa Town Police Centre to get additional forces. When we got to the house, I didn’t have the key as we had left it with Bassem. They said, ‘If you don’t open we’ll break the door.’ I told them the key was with Ghassan’s brother and that he was our next door neighbor. They knocked at Bassem’s door, but when he saw them from the window he didn’t answer because he thought they were coming after him.”

“They broke into our house. There were around twenty masked soldiers and police cars surrounding the place. They went directly to our bedroom. They ordered me to open the safe and took away everything that was inside it: money, documents and deeds. They also took away all our computers, phones, cameras. They went downstairs to the ground floor. They smashed everything they could lay their hands on: decorations, pieces of art, glassware, you name it. Two of them took me to the study and began calling me names and hurled insults at me. One of them interrogated me: ‘Why are you opposing the government? You live in a palace yet you oppose the government? Where did you study? Who paid for your studies?’ I told him I was a high achiever at school, and that it was only natural that I got a scholarship. ‘What about your husband?’ I said, ‘and my husband, too.’ He said, ‘All of this and you oppose the government? And you go out demonstrating against the government?’”

“I’ll Put out the Cigarette in Your Eye”

“Then, as if he had just realized it, he asked me about Bassem, my brother-in-law. ‘Your husband’s brother, what does he do?’ I said, ‘A doctor.’ That was it. He made a phone call, ‘May be he’s one of the wanted. Shall we take him as well?’ And this was exactly what happened.”

The story goes on. “They took away our cars, all five of them. They did the same with Bassem’s. I didn’t know what happened to Bassem. I only saw them going towards his house and taking all their cars away. Then they put me in one of their vehicles. There, I told them I was so worried about my children and didn’t know what might have happened to them. One of the soldiers yelled at me, ‘Shut up or I’ll put out the cigarette in your eye.’ When we got back to the CID building I asked anxiously about my children. They told me that they took them back to the house. I screamed, ‘But, there was no one at home!’ They said, ‘Your daughter is old enough, and knows what to do.’”

Does the story end at this point? Zahraa has more to say. “They took me for a second interrogation. I told them everything I knew. My interrogator kept threatening to beat me. Being a doctor and a consultant, I couldn’t grasp what it meant to be beaten. I couldn’t grasp the fact that I was detained, or that any doctor could be detained, let alone to be beaten, or sworn at or insulted.”

“Two men came in and began interrogating me again. He said, ‘Your husband has confessed about you. There’s no need to hide anything.’ They said that before they began asking me impudent questions: ‘Did you go to the Roundabout? Did you enjoy love at the Roundabout? Did your husband enjoy love at the Roundabout? How many times did you go to Iran?’ I felt sick and disgusted of the mentality that would pose such lowly questions.”
“When I became totally exhausted, they told me they would take me home. I said to them I would not get into a car with male officers. I wanted female officers. Two police women got in the car with me. When I got home, our door was smashed, and widely open. I went straight to Bassem’s house. The family had gathered there. Everyone was in a hysteric state: Ghassan’s parents, his brothers and Bassem’s wife. At last! I took my children in my arms.”

Fatima

“Spirits were low, and morals shattered, while I tried to maintain a façade of strength and bravery before the children. It wasn’t easy to have two brothers in detention. Ghassan and Bassem’s parents were on the verge of collapse. Fatima came to tell me what had happened to them during my absence. ‘Mom,’ Fatima said, ‘Do you remember the girl we saw laying blindfolded on a wooden bench in that dark room? They took her out and beat her in front of us. They beat her so hard that she passed out. It was men who beat her. If that little girl got so much beating, I wonder what could happen to our Dad.”

How did Fatima and her two little brothers live those horrifying moments? Fatima says, “As time passed, the feeling of shock was building up within us. I couldn’t believe what was happening in front of me. I held my little brother’s hand tightly. He was trembling when we entered the CID building at Adliya. Going into the building made us feel confused and disoriented. We were not criminals. They took my mother away while I sat there with my brothers for almost two hours. I could see their facial expressions changing from worry to anxiety, to fear and terror. I had to hold myself together for their sake.” Fatima continues, “I couldn’t sleep that night. I was so sure that my father and uncle would both be back like my mother did. We kept waiting for them day after day. We jumped towards the door every time the doorbell rang.”

“We’re Fine”

For more than a week the family had no news of Bassem or Ghassan. The second week, each one of them made a terse phone call to his wife: “We’re fine.” The call ended. That call was necessary. Just to assure the families the men were still alive. No more.

Zahraa adds, “My father-in-law, Maha, Bassem’s wife, and I had a meeting with one of the officers in the Military Judicial Authorities. We wanted to be assured about their well-being and take them some clean clothes. He told us that they didn’t need them as everything was already available. He began assuring my father-in-law that his sons had everything they needed and that there was no torture. We never thought professionals like doctors would be subjected to torture, but that was a delusion. Everything one thought to be beyond imagination had actually happened in Bahrain. Just soon afterwards, stories of torture began seeping through all kinds of sources.”
“Two weeks passed by before I, too, got arrested in the third week. All the time, from March 19 till April 11, I never expected to be arrested. And so, for three whole weeks, our children had to live alone without their parents.

Zahraa’s Arrest

“I was in the operation room when I got a call to go to the office of the Head of Medics” Zahraa says. “I expected to be interrogated, as interrogation committees had already begun. On my way I saw Dr. Abdul Shahid Fadhl. He was also summoned to the same office. We entered the Admin Building at Salmaniya hospital, which by then had turned into a military barrack; soldiers at every door and in every corridor. Three masked soldiers came out to call my name and the names of four of my colleagues. Among them were Drs. Abdul Shahid Fadhl and Nabeel Tammam. They took away our mobile phones saying, ‘We’ll take you for questioning for half an hour and then you’ll be back.’ ‘How are we going?’ we asked. ‘Take your cars,’ they said. I didn’t have a car because it had already been taken away with all of our cars. I rode with Dr. Nabeel Tammam. On our way out we were stopped at three check-points. One of the soldiers standing at the gate spit in our faces and cursed, ‘Damn you and damn your faces.’”

“We went into the CID building. They called my name. I heard one of them say, ‘We’ve got the order.’ Immediately, one female officer blindfolded me and pulled me to a car. In the car the officer kept pushing my head down so that people would not see the blindfolded lady inside it. I heard them say they were taking me to the Police Fort Clinic. I couldn’t understand why the clinic. There, the nurse checked my blood pressure and said, ‘She has a high temperature and needs to be put on the drip and to take medication for three hours.’ In reality, there was nothing wrong with me. Did the nurse feel sorry for me and wanted to keep me in the clinic so that I wouldn’t be tortured? I didn’t know.”

Shaikha Noora

Zahraa continues her story. “At the clinic, I was profanely insulted in every manner. ‘You don’t deserve to be doctors. You are traitors. You don’t deserve your medical certificates, you Safavids, you Magi.’ One of them said in mockery, ‘Why is the drip in the aorta? Let’s take it out, put it in her mouth and suffocate her. That’s faster. We hadn’t yet done anything to her and she became ill? May Allah help her.’”

“I didn’t know why they did all those medical check-ups. Perhaps that was because of those who died under torture. Probably now they physically examined detainees before torture. In interrogation, I was beaten by Shaikha Noora Al Khalifa. She started beating me the moment she entered the room, even before asking any questions. She asked me how many casualties did I treat, and I answered with honesty and spontaneity. I described to her the cases we treated, including bullet casualties. She kept denouncing our procedure of treating casualties in the operation rooms. She accused us of doing that on purpose; to claim that the injuries were serious, or to let the world know that the government beat and killed those people. 

Then she mentioned Martyr Abdul Redha and said that his wounds were deliberately enlarged, and that he had an unnecessary operation. I was in a state of shock and surprise: Was it possible that there were people with such evil mentality? People who would say that a doctor would act in such unprofessional manner? She continued beating me saying, ‘You don’t seem to be cooperating with us. I’ll take you to someone who will teach you how to confess.’”

Drivel of Ignorance

“
 
They took me to another room upstairs. I heard voices of men chatting and laughing. Suddenly one of them
 shouted at me, ‘You’re Zahraa, Ghassan’s wife?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He began cursing and swearing at Ghassan. I couldn’t repeat his profane words. Then he said, ‘We’re here 24 hours. We have all the time and have no problem. You know very well what can happen to you if you don’t confess. You are accused of stealing medicines from the operation theatre and taking them to the Roundabout.’ I said to him, ‘That’s impossible. The medicines in the operation theatre are for anesthesia only. They medicines cannot be used anywhere else because they can kill the patient, especially when used without a respiratory system.’ He realized that his accusation was no more than drivel, and that he had exposed his utter ignorance. He ordered the police officer, ‘That’s enough. Take her.’”

“The police officer left me standing in the corridor for a very long time before she took me to another office. I heard two men talking. I was feeling dizzy and one of them sat me down. The office shouted at him, ‘Why do you let her sit down? She doesn’t deserve to sit down.’ They made me stand up again and took me back to the offices of women police. There, I was interrogated once more. I was made to sign papers. I wasn’t allowed to see anything except where I was supposed to sign. The officer would pull up the blindfold a bit, point to the signature place, and there I would sign.”

“The next day they took me to the Military Prosecution office, as I was told, for further interrogation. Interrogations usually lasted between 2 and 5 hours. I was made to stand most of the time. They wanted me to prove some charges against Ghassan. In the minutes they wrote the opposite of the statements I made. I heard one of them dictate what was to be written in the minutes. I heard him dictate that I had confessed that Ghassan was in charge of the hospital media; that we treated protesters who were calling for the fall of the regime by orders from Dr. Ali Al-Ekri. There wasn’t anything I could do. At the end of the interrogation, the officer asked, ‘Is there anything else you wish to add?’ I said, ‘I only want to contact my children.’ He said, ‘Fine.’ When the officer took me back I asked her to let me call them, but she replied, ‘We have no orders.’”

Royal Pardon

I was delighted when the police officer said to me, ‘Hurry up, take your bag and other belongings.’ Zahraa says. “I thought I was going back to my home and children. I said to the officer, ‘I have many things here: mobile phones, computers, cars.’ The officer laughed and said, ‘Never mind, never mind.’ Nurse Dhiya Ja’far was with me. They took us to Isa Town Police Station. I felt so optimistic.”

She continues. “I hadn’t heard from my children for ten days. That was when we heard about the visit of Catherine Ashton to Bahrain. The officers began visiting us in our cells and chatting with us. We were allowed to call our families. I wasn’t able to know anything about Ghassan and I was so worried about him. I remained in detention for 25 days before I was set free.”

“On the day of my release, I had another interrogation session with Mubarak bin Hwail. He said to me, ‘This is a royal pardon. If it were for me, I would never release you. You should be jailed for you misdeeds.’ That was how we got out. We thought everything was over by then. However, on June 5th we received a subpoena to the Court-Martial.

Children with Broken Hearts

During my detention, my mother moved in with my children. They also had their uncle’s family and grandparents around them all the time. My children wrote me letters, which I received after they had been opened and read. My children kept assuring me that they were strong; that they missed me and missed their father; they said, ‘We’re proud of you. We know that you didn’t do anything other than responding to the call of your duty and your profession.’ The family took them in care, tenderness and love. Nevertheless, children remain broken-hearted in the absence of their parents. I remember my first call to them. Mohammad cried bitterly asking, ‘Mom, where are you? What has happened to you?’ I nearly collapsed with every phone call. I would return to my cell in a deplorable state. I was so sure that they had everything they needed. But I felt pain when I thought of how much they were worried
about us.

Fatima’s Support

Fatima, the eldest child, tells how she grew up very fast, but not by her choice. I came home from school one day three weeks later to find my grandmother sitting outside, my mother hadn’t come home yet. I refused to believe she had been taken, too. I hoped desperately that she only had been working on an emergency case or was just late back from the hospital. Her phone was turned off and after calling a few people we found out she had been taken for questioning at the hospital and nobody had seen her after that. The police station told us they didn’t know anything about her. (continue reading)

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