Da (Mother) 126
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Translated from the Persian with an Introduction by Paul Sprachman
2024-12-1
Da (Mother) 126
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
***
Thirty-Two: Run-in with the Hypocrites
The political situation in Tehran was unsettled. Every day the Hypocrites appeared at some new location to spread their propaganda, hold meetings, agitate, and debate their opponents. Unable to defend their views with logic, they used force and smacked their opponents’ silly. Laleh Park was one of their regular meeting places. After the meetings, fights would ordinarily break out. I tried to take part in the debates, but it was no use debating them with words; they would run roughshod over anyone who tried.
During this time the Hypocrites would ambush the revolutionary kids in deserted alleyways and try to beat them to death. They thought they were—to use their words—“undermining the enemy.”
On March 5, 1981, I attended a speech by Banisadr, which Hypocrites disrupted with their shouts and chanting. As I walked home, I sensed three very weird-looking figures—two girls and one boy—were following me. I told myself they weren’t after me, but one of the girls, wearing Adidas sneakers, raced up and kicked me hard in the back of the leg. I was no match for them; there were three of them and they were armed with probably more than just a box-cutter. I started to run and disappeared into the crowd when I reached the avenue, where they didn’t dare show themselves.
There was a revolutionary committee stationed on Ferdowsi Avenue. They asked the guards at the Kushk Building give them the names of trustworthy women to work with them. The guards recommended Leila and me, but because I wasn’t going to be in Tehran much longer, I gave them Sabah Vatankhah’s name. She was living in the building with her family at the time, and we renewed our friendship, which had started with the war, there.
Whenever the brothers on the committee caught a female Hypocrite fighting or planting a bomb, they would send for us to do a body search of them. These types tried to get rid of a lot of their paraphernalia before they were taken before the committee. But sometimes they failed. They seemed a very strange lot to me. Sometimes, searching them, we found salt or pepper in their pockets, and I would ask them why they carried such things. They didn’t plan on cooking, did they?
Some were brazen enough to admit, “To rub in your wounds.”
“So making us feel worse would make you feel better. Is that it?” we asked.
“Yeah. Why not?”
End of Chapter Thirty-two
To be continued …
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