I was killed on December 5, 1402. He was twenty-seven years old, born? I had been married for four years and had two children, a two-year-old daughter and a 5-month-old son. I was a resident of Qalqeleh village in the central part of Salas Babajani city in Kermanshah province. I love football and to provide for my family's livelihood, I had to work because I couldn't find another job. It was a Saturday night in December 5th, I and some other Kolbras went to the border area of Nausud Paveh city in Kermanshah province. We had not yet entered the border of Iraq and we had not even brought any goods, without the excuse of carrying goods or goods, we were suddenly shot by the border guards and from close range without prior warning. They shot me from behind with Kalashnikovs, I was seriously injured and I fell to the ground... They put me on their backs and quickly transferred me to Nosud hospital, but I died due to the severity of the injuries to my head.... My fellow countryman, I knew that kolberi is not a job, but I had no other way to meet living expenses and I had to risk my life, that too for an income and will not die. In the cold winter night, I was walking through the Zagros mountain range and passing through the mines that were still left in the ground since the Iran-Iraq war. I and hundreds of other colberts were killed and injured in these years and the water did not budge, we were hired workers of brokers who had to take or receive the cargo from a border point. The merchants took the profit without risk and we took the small salary with the risk of death, and this was while we were being introduced as smugglers! Yes, I died for bread and buried my dream of raising my children. For a better future for yourself and your children, fight against the rule of force and crime, and remember me and hundreds of oppressed people on the day you win.
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