Farah keeps her phone nearby with the ringtone turned up at all hours, waiting for the rare calls that might come from her family in Iran.
Using only her first name out of fear for her family’s safety, she says the calls have become even more precious as war and unrest grip the country.
With an internet blackout and phone calls into Iran shut down by the regime, Farah can only learn how her family is doing when they are able to call her – and even those connections are unreliable.
“I hardly have news from my relatives. My parents can call me sometimes. I know my city was bombed as well and it was very stressful for me. You know, if anyone was hurt or died. My family is okay but three civilians have been hurt unfortunately.”
Her family’s calls carry risks for them, so Farah carefully avoids any political discussion on the phone in case authorities are monitoring.
“Sometimes my parents call me at 1am and I just want to make sure I am able to pick the phone. I am so glad my job is so flexible, and I’ve got amazing co-workers with me that are really understanding if I need to be on the phone.”
Farah, who has lived in Christchurch since 2014, is Kurdish and says her family has long experienced oppression under the Iranian regime.
Her distrust of the government hardened when she was a teenager after her older brother was imprisoned and tortured. He had travelled to Turkey as a young man and began military training with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, commonly known as the PKK.
The PKK is a controversial guerrilla group fighting for an independent Kurdistan and is considered a terrorist organisation by Iran, Turkey, Australia, the European Union, the United States, and New Zealand.
“He did not do any fighting, just training, but when he returned they put him in jail for several weeks.
“He came out with scars and they burnt his body in many different places, and he was hanged upside down. He was hurt a lot. It was a deep punishment to make sure he’d never forget,” Farah said.
In what was the toughest time for the family, Farah’s father begged local authorities not to execute his son, pleading he had been a naive young man who did not know any better.
Seeing the effects of torture on her brother shaped Farah’s views of the regime.
Despite the uncertainty of what comes next in Iran, she feels a sense of hope for her people after the death of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei in a US-Israeli strike.
“It was like a very mixed emotion. I still remember I was happy but I wanted to cry at the same time. It was hard for me to believe. He was exactly like a dragon to his own people, and the dragon had to go.”
But the violence has also come at a heavy cost.
The bombing campaigns have struck close to home, with civilians injured in the city where Farah grew up.
Several weeks ago, during the crackdown on anti-government protests, her best friend’s brother was shot dead by security forces – among an estimated more than 30,000 killed.
“He was only doing Kurdish dance in the street, just seeking freedom. He had a little son, a very beautiful family, a very happy life.”
Although her parents are against enforced hijab, she remembers they always made sure she wore it in public, otherwise she could have been questioned by police or even arrested.
“Being Kurdish, we don’t wear hijab at home or in our culture, but we always had to wear it and cover up when on the street, at schools or at universities. It makes you unhappy as a girl. You want to live freely.”
Moving to Christchurch was, she says, a breath of fresh air.
“One of the first places I saw was Hagley Park and the lovely scenery there. Christchurch actually reminds me a bit of home because of the Port Hills and the type of buildings.”
The early years were lonely.
“I had no choice but to adjust. Kiwis have always been amazing to me, very open-minded people.
“I honestly don’t have a single bad experience of living in New Zealand and I had been paid back for working very hard for Kiwis.”
