His name is Abolfazl. He had three brothers, and both he and one of his brothers worked in the Madanjo mine. Now, that brother (Mohammadjavad Beheshtizadeh) has perished alongside 51 other miners, while Abolfazl survived. At first, he refuses to be interviewed. For several hours, he avoids the conversation with various excuses. Finally, he agrees and responds to our call. He only finished middle school and doesn’t know what level of education his late brother had. He has been working ever since he can remember. His responses are short, very short, much like a casual chat between two friends on a late autumn night, where one tries to unburden themselves. I find myself asking more questions to get fuller answers. In his sweet, distinctive Tabasi accent, he sometimes speaks with excitement but is careful not to offend anyone. Clearly, he doesn’t want to say anything that might worry him later. So, what follows isn’t an interview for the media but a conversation between two compatriots, still in shock over what happened—one of the darkest days in the country, when due to failures in management and oversight, 52 breadwinners for 52 Iranian families lost their lives in the darkest depths of the earth. The only difference between the two of us is that one of us is a survivor of this tragedy.

Below is the full interview with this surviving miner from the Tabas mine, conducted by Peace Mark Monthly Magazine.

Please introduce yourself.

My brother, the late Mohammadjavad Beheshtizadeh, and I—my name is Abolfazl.

Were you together on the day of the incident?

Yes. We were on the same shift, but in different blocks. My brother was in Block C when it happened, and I was in Block B. When I got the news that there had been an explosion in Block C, I rushed to the transport vehicle and came up.

How old was he?

He was thirty-three.

Do you have a wife and children?

Yes, both of us have two children.

Did you know that an explosion was a possibility? Did you anticipate it from the beginning?

No one expected an explosion, but perhaps there was negligence. It’s unclear whether it was due to electrical issues or something else. I don’t know. But there was a gas buildup.

Did the gas leak detectors in the mine not work? Were you aware of the possibility of an explosion? Was there any detection system at all?

I don’t think there were any detectors.

In any of the blocks?

No, none. Only the safety team had gas detectors to check whether there was gas or not, which led to the explosion.

Does the gas detector work continuously, or does it have to be checked at intervals?

The handheld gas detector they have sounds an alarm automatically if there’s gas present. But I wasn’t there at the time—I was on the other side.

Did anyone working in that area survive?

When the explosion happened, no one who was in the area where it occurred came out alive.

So, everyone in Block C was killed?

Yes, when the explosion happened, I was there. In our block, those working in other horizons managed to get out.

It’s said that the person responsible for gas detection also died, correct?

Yes, the gas detector operator died there too.

So, in truth, the gas detection system wasn’t working, and no one knew there was a leak?

There was no gas detection system at all.

So, there were safety deficiencies and no safety equipment?

Yes, we don’t have safety equipment.

Did you receive any training before starting work, and what safety gear were you given when you started?

They only gave us a “self-rescue” device.

What is that?

It’s something you strap to your waist, and it needs to be checked periodically (I’m not sure if it’s weekly or monthly).

Was it being checked?

I don’t know. It depends on whether the “lamp house” checks them and ensures they’re working. When an accident happens, you’re supposed to strap it to your waist, put it on your nose, and walk slowly with long strides, because if you move too fast and it malfunctions or overheats, it can burn your chest.

Do you know what equipment you’re supposed to have when you enter the mine, and what was either provided or not provided to you?

If the gas detectors are installed and functioning properly, there’s no need for other safety equipment. We didn’t have gas detectors, and we never saw how they worked. But they say if they were installed and functioning, they would cut off the power in case of a gas leak, preventing an accident.

Can I ask how much you earn?

It depends on experience. A newcomer earns a minimum of 12 to 13 million tomans, and someone with more experience can earn up to 20 million tomans. Of course, they have to work extra shifts too.

How deep do you work?

We take a transport vehicle down to 1,500 meters to get to our work site, and after that, we might walk up to 2,000 meters to reach our work area, where everyone works on their own horizon. Where we work is on Horizon 14, and we have to descend another 1,100 to 1,400 meters and then walk to our work site.

How many hours a day do you work?

We work in shifts. My late brother worked from 6 a.m. to 1 p.m., and then he’d go back from 6 p.m. to midnight. So, he had to work two shifts every day. My work was contractual and single-shift. Every day, I had to load 27 or 28 trucks of soil and take 5 or 6 loads of coal. We do everything by hand—everything is loaded manually.

It’s said that two weeks before the accident, the workers had protested about unsafe conditions and gas leaks. Is that true?

I’m not sure, but I’ve heard that the shift before us had raised concerns about gas. They were worried. Gas has no smell or taste, but the workers can sense it. Their eyes burn, and they get dizzy. They had mentioned this, but apparently, it was taken as a joke, and they were told nothing would happen.

It’s said that they were told, “This is how it is! If you don’t want to work, go to accounting and settle your pay!” Did that happen?

Maybe it was said. A foreman or team leader might have said it. That’s always the way things are. You either have to be submissive or keep your head down and say, “Yes, yes, yes,” just to keep working. Not just us, but everyone is forced to say yes, yes—for what? To be able to provide for their kids, pay rent, cover living expenses, and meet their needs, so they can raise their children properly. Even if someone insults me at work, I’m forced to say, “Yes, you’re right! Please forgive me!” Even if I wasn’t wrong, I have to say, “You’re right.” Now we’ve heard they’re planning to improve safety, and they’re working on it.

It’s said the mine has reopened. Do you know about that?

I don’t know, because since my brother’s death, I haven’t gone back to work. I’m not in the mood. I’m only speaking with you now so I can talk about these issues.

Have any officials contacted you—either from the national or provincial level? It’s been announced that among those who died, those who didn’t own homes will be given one. Have you heard about this?

No one has contacted us, but we’ve heard something about it.

I saw a photo of one of the miners being carried out after the explosion, and his boot was torn. Why was that?

They only give us work clothes and equipment twice a year.

So, the tear was due to the boots being old?

Regardless of the quality of the boots, good or bad, we have to make do with them for six months.

So, if your boots tear, you don’t get new ones?

They say you have to wait six months to receive the next pair with the work clothes.

Are the boots they give you standard, or are they just regular boots from the market?

They’re regular boots. They should give us steel-toe boots, but they don’t. They just give us the regular boots you find in the market.

Is there anything left unsaid that you’d like to share?

They should improve mine safety so that when we go into the mine, we can go in with peace of mind, knowing that our families won’t have to worry about us. We don’t know any other work. We’re just simple laborers who sit when told to sit and stand when told to stand. That’s all I ask for now. I didn’t want to talk much, but you insisted, so I agreed. But I want to say that if they do this for us, it would be very good.

Thank you for taking the time to speak with Peace Mark Monthly Magazine during this difficult time.