Breaking....Khodayar buried in a pauper's grave

I was stunned to learn a few days ago that Khodayar Amini has been buried in secret.

His body has been with the Coroner for a few months and several people had been negotiating with the Coroner's office about getting his body released to the Hazara community in the Dandenong area so that he could be buried by his friends and supporters. I have spoken on the telephone to the Coroner's office about this.

And now we find out that they have given him a "pauper's funeral" against the wishes of the Hazara community and his other friends. This type of funeral - also sometimes called a "destitute funeral"- is reserved for those who die and who have no one who is willing to come forward and organise the funeral.

This is not the case with Khodayar.
He has many friends.
I have met with and spoken to some of them.
And others I know by the flowers and the cards that they leave at his final camp at Robert Reserve in Dandenong.

Khodayar Amini has many friends and is not forgotten.

I am still confused and distressed by the news of his secret burial.
As if his death was not horrible enough already.



(Below is a statement from the Hazara community of Melbourne)

Hazara community of melbourne have been disgusted, to have NOT been informed or consulted by corner & police for burial of Khudayar Amini body which has been buried few days early at this unknown crematory in far far away land fearing repressions.

Flowers of love and candles were laid in the memory of Khudayar Amini who have burned himself and lost his life in unjust manner! Where is justice for refugees may he R.I.P and bless his soul.

We, many community leaders and family friends have attended a symbolic funeral at Northern Memorial Park 56 Box forest road Glenroy in the Islamic Section at 3 today 21/02/2016

THANK YOU.

The ugly letter - number 17

Dear Khodayar, before the flames closed over you for the last time your mind had been broken. The death of your friend, Nasim Najafi, was particularly destabilising. That shock, after all the other things that had happened, took away the last resilience of your spirit. You no longer believed you could stay alive. You could not find hope in the future, only your own death – in pain and isolation.

I don't like to think about this, about the mental illness that made your suffering even more full of terror. I would prefer to see you as a hero than as a victim. But in the end it was hard for you to tell what was real and what was not. The false slogans of humanity that we buried you with had anguished your mind. It was not only your body that was hurt and imprisoned. We did this to your mind also. Until it was sick and broken and unsure and empty of imagination. I feel so low to write this. Love Stephen

18 February 2016

Sixteeth letter to Khodayar

Dear Khodayar, I hope this letter finds you well. I wish that you will live a long and happy life. I couldn’t wish you any less, but I fear it is not so and all hope for you is dead. My concern, my love for you has come too late. I can only stir the ashes where you died, I can not touch your hand.

I hope that even after you have been killed I will keep your name, your words and your story alive. I hope that in doing so I will cheat the killers of their victory. I hope that in so doing I can make the stain of your death a little smaller. I would prefer if your life had been less eventful. If you had a family and a home and work. I would prefer if you hadn’t had to make the hero’s journey into danger. If so I would have never heard about you, you wouldn’t have died in a bush camp on the edge of this city. I remember you Khodayar Amini, and your friends Nasim Najafi, Reza Rezayee and Ahmad Ali Jaffari. Immagination is memory. Love Stephen

Fifteenth letter to my friend Khodayar

Dear Khodayar, as humans we share things. You and I can be hurt, we can be beaten and tortured. You and I can be scared and we can be enslaved. You and I can be humilliated and we can be killed. These are things that can be done to us or to any other human. I know I have protections against these things happening that others don’t have. I have my maleness, my whiteness and my wealth. But these are still possibilities for all of us, for all the sisters and brothers of this world.

Khodayar, all these things were done to you. They were done by other humans. These are bad things, ugly things. Things that should never be done. I am terrified to change places with you, for these things to happen to me. You needed asylum but you ended up in the barrens. A place bereft of compassion and love, that runs on racist violence. All you knew were false humane slogans and harsh treatments. You knew such bitterness here in the barrens. Love Stephen

Fourteenth letter

Dear Khodayar, how far have you travelled in this warm rain? The scent of warm earth all around you. I know you haven’t brought much with you, the danger was too great and the journey was too long. Did you have to tell any lies to stay alive a bit longer? You made it to this island full of birds and then you were force fed on our lies. You got past the reefs that surround this place like teeth; behind which hides our insecutity.

This place is a harsh land. All lands are harsh. We all have blood on our hands. Now we have a bit more blood on our hands – your blood Khodayar. You were not able to stay alive any longer. The “friend of God” was abandoned by the people. You found no friendship here, only harsh treatment and false slogans of humanity. You and your sisters and brothers of the road have scorpions pressed into your hands. Hateful things, shameful things, behind the razor wire, inside the prison gates. The colour of your skin and your need are your only crimes. Love Stephen