Da (Mother) 88

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Translated from the Persian with an Introduction by Paul Sprachman

2024-3-10

Da (Mother) 88

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Translated from the Persian with an Introduction by Paul Sprachman

Persian Version (2008)

Sooreh Mehr Publishing House

English Version (2014)

Mazda Publishers

***

I felt really sorry for him. We waved and said goodbye. Somewhere along the way, the mosque boys got out, and Yaddi and his runner friends took us to the home of an old man and woman. They were very happy to see us. The old woman said, “You go and wash, while we get the food ready.”

We hurriedly doused ourselves with water and, emerging dripping wet from the bathroom, went to dry in the sun. After about a dozen days without showering, this was a real luxury. I could finally run the comb I had brought from home through my hair, which had been impossible before. The other the girls used the same comb.

They called us to lunch. The old woman put a small pot of lamb meat and split pea stew she had made for her and her husband on a tablecloth spread on the floor. The food was both a delight and a blessing for the dozen or so of us sitting around the cloth.

On the way back, still not dry, we began to shiver in the chilly wind. To take our minds off the cold someone suggested that we sing. Everyone began the song that went “Boy oh Boy! That night the Imam’s words were joy!” It was so uplifting. As soon as it was over, I sat in silence and thought about Abdollah’s kindness. How gracious and respectful he had been when he showed us to his aunt’s home, saving us from wandering around like refugees.

I also remembered the time his antics in the back of the truck had us all in stitches. I don’t recall the exact day, but I remember it was dusk on one of those days I was in the mosque. They hadn’t sounded the call to prayer yet. I was passing Ebrahimi when a skinny boy with an olive complexion said in a thick Arab accent, “There’s no sound coming from it. Nobody’s home, and we didn’t have the nerve to go in. You’re here. You go and get him.”

Ebrahimi said, “Who can I send this time of day? Wait till morning.”

This made me curious and I asked, “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” said Ebrahimi. “He says that there’s a body in Abareh and we should come and get it.”

I asked the boy, “Why didn’t you bring it yourself?

He said, “We weren’t up to entering the house. No one’s home. They’re all gone. The old man had been lying in bed sick, and now it’s been a while since we’ve heard a sound from him. We think he’s gone.”

I said. “So, what do you want us to do?”

“Nothing. I just came here for help. We have no way to get him out.”

“You mean,” I asked, “there’s no one who can help take him out?”

“No.”

“What do you think we should do?” I asked Ebrahimi.

“I don’t know. It’s too late now to do anything.”

“Too late? Just arrange for transport and we’ll go and get the body,”

I said.

“This time of night? Impossible. We don’t know whether he’s got it right. It’s dangerous. Besides, it’s a long way from here to Abareh.”

“If somebody will come with me,” I said, “I’ll go.”

Ebrahimi was against it. I called out to Hoseyn and Abdollah, who were in the mosque and explained the situation. Abdollah asked, “Is it really necessary that we go now, sister?”

“Well,” I said, “they say they haven’t heard a peep from him since morning. He’s definitely dead. We’ve got to get him out before he starts to rot or some animal happens by and eats him.”

They agreed to come. While we were waiting for transport, Zohreh and Sabah said they wanted to go also. Ebrahimi and a couple of the other boys were dead set against it. “It’s dark,” they said. “This kid may be lying. It could be a trap.”

I said, “Abareh is not in Iraqi hands. When there’s work to be done, it makes no difference what time it is. Besides, there are several of us now.”

Hoseyn and Abdollah found a pickup, and we all got in the back. The boy who originally brought the news sat next to the driver to direct him. He went from the Farmandari Circle to the Asha’er Circle. We passed the Pars Avan Company and left the road for the desert. The truck hit a number of bumps, slamming us against the sides. The farther we went into the desert, the more Ebrahimi’s words rang true in my mind. I was afraid it was a trap. The boys seem to feel the same. We looked at one another and mumbled some prayers. They removed the safety on their weapons to be ready to fire at the slightest sign of something out of the ordinary. After a while a remote village appeared on the horizon. The driver made his way through the alleys, passing the mud brick homes until the boy told us to stop in front of one. We jumped out. The boy pointed to a house next to the one we were standing in front of and said, “That’s our house.”

“Good,” I said. “Now open the door of this house from yours.”

“I’m scared,” he said.

“You’re a man. What are you afraid of?” said Hoseyn.

“I’m just afraid. If not, I wouldn’t have come all this way to get you people. I would have gotten him myself. I’m afraid his ghost will come after me at night.”

“Why are you talking nonsense? Go and open the door,” I said.

He refused. I said, “Okay, we’ll do it ourselves.”

Hoseyn and Abdollah said to me, “You shouldn’t come.”

“Remember, I’m a nurse. If he’s still alive and needs attention, I may be able to do something.”

Hoseyn climbed over the door to the compound. Abdollah and I went up the stairs of the boy’s house to get to the roof of the man’s house. Then we went down some stairs, which led to the entrance hallway. A door to a reception room opened onto the hallway. This was traditionally where nonfamily members would stay to keep them from intruding in the private part of the home. We went down the hallway and into the yard. Another door opened onto it. Hoseyn and Abdollah went to look at the rooms at the other end of the yard. I turned on my flashlight and, with a prayer, went to the other door of the reception room. I was gripped by fear in that pitch darkness, and scolded myself for not waiting outside the door. What if it was an ambush? What would I do then? The answer was obvious; it would have been unconscionable to let Hoseyn and Abdollah go in alone. If something happened to them, I would never have forgiven myself. Shining my light into the room, I saw that there was someone lying directly opposite me. I moved the light around and found no one else in the room but the old man. I called out to Hoseyn and Abdollah to come.

They came running. We entered the room. The old man’s mouth and eyes were open, seemingly frozen dry in the light. I put my hand on his carotid artery. There was no pulse. In the hope of finding a faint heartbeat, I bent down and put my ear to his chest. Nothing. It was as if his heart had never worked. I felt all around his teeth, which jutted out from his mouth because it had been ages since he had eaten. Even though I was used to handling bodies, this one affected me. I scanned the room with the flashlight. There was a bowl of water near the corpse, and a prayer mat with a set of rosary beads on a shelf.

Abdollah went to open the outside door and the others entered the compound. The driver removed the blanket from the old man and spread it on the floor. Then they lifted the body and placed it on the blanket. Seeing them carrying the body out of the house, the boy retreated. “Don’t be afraid. This miserable old corpse won’t eat you,” I said.

Drawn by the noises we were making, several of the neighbors emerged from their homes. “Where’s this old man’s family?” I asked.

They said, “All of them left. No matter how hard they tried to get him to leave, the old man refused. God bless him. He kept saying, ‘I’m not leaving my home.’ ”

“There’s no one else in this neighborhood?” I asked.

“Sure,” they said, “everybody’s around farther down.”

“You have to leave, also,” I said. “The Iraqis are coming from the Ring Road. In a few days, this place’ll be under fire.”

While the driver was turning the pickup around, more people from the neighborhood showed up. The boys urged all of them to leave the village. It was quite dark now, and on the trip back the truck landed in more ditches and hit more bumps than it had on the way there. We couldn’t help falling on the hapless corpse. Abdollah joked, “If anybody had doubts about it before, the old man’s sure as hell dead now, and we killed him!”

We delivered the corpse to Taleqani Hospital and returned to the mosque. I had barely set foot in the place when everybody started yelling at us. First it was Mahmud Farrokhi; then the rest of them joined the parade of blame. “Why did you go out there this time of night without permission? Without clearing it with anybody, you just up and left? What were you thinking? Are you saying that you’re not responsible to anyone? You can just act on your own?”

Mr. Mesbah and Haj Aqa Nuri also came down hard on us. Most of their anger was directed at me. I said, “Nothing happened. There actually was a body, and we went and got it.”

“What if,” they said, “there were Iraqis? Then what? What if Fifth Columnists had done something terrible to you?”

They really let us have it and said, “You’re not allowed to go out late at night. Don’t think you can do whatever you please. Remember!”

“Fine. From now on we’ll tell you. Whatever you say.”

End of Chapter Twenty

To be continued …