Haj Hossein Fathi’s Memories about Returning from Hajj

Selected by Faezeh Sasanikhah
Translated by Mandana Karimi

2025-7-17

In Shahrivar 1359 (September 1980), tensions had arisen on the Iran-Iraq border and were gradually escalating. Volunteers were needed to guard the Qasr-e Shirin border. I joined the line of volunteers, but the operations commander, knowing that I had an upcoming Hajj pilgrimage, took my hand and insisted I go to Mecca and pray for them. No matter how much I insisted, he wouldn’t agree. He knew I had been waiting since the previous year to visit the House of God (Al Kaaba).

I went to the market and prepared for Hajj. On Sunday, the 31st of Shahrivar (September 22), at 10:30 in the morning, we flew toward Jeddah. The plane had a capacity of 470, but our group had 488 people. So, it was decided that 18 people would come with the next flight. We waited in Jeddah; the flight was delayed, and we were worried. At 8 PM, Saudi radio announced that Iraq had attacked our country. There was a commotion among the Iranians. A wave of concern swept over the pilgrims. At midnight, we were certain the news was true and that our fellow travelers had been left behind in Tehran. Apparently, Tehran airport had been bombed and flights were canceled.

We sought guidance from the caravan's cleric. I told him, “Imam Hussein (AS) left Arafat for Karbala during Hajj. If needed, we are also ready to return to Iran.” He responded logically: “With this situation and this kind of news, we can't make a sound decision here. We’re in another country, in foreign land. Whatever plan comes up, we’ll act together.”

Finally, we went ahead and performed the Hajj rituals. That year, the “Disavowal of Polytheists” (Barā’at az Mushrekin) ceremony didn’t take place due to the small number of pilgrims, the concerns of Iranians, and strict Saudi surveillance. We were being watched closely. They disrupted the speeches of caravan clerics and arrested several of them. The Iranians were housed in Hotel No. 12. Everyone, distressed by the war and the lack of news from their families, spent more than six hours a day in long phone queues. Only 200 people could use the phones, but 2,000 would line up. When prayer time came, the line would break up and more time was wasted, with little result. Time passed slowly and under pressure.

Finally, on the 14th of Aban (November 5), we returned to Tehran. Near sunset, we got off the plane and headed home. Azadi Street was in total darkness. I asked the taxi driver, “Why are the city lights off?” He gave a bitter laugh and said, “Don’t you know? It’s war. All of Iran is in darkness.”

We got home. The face of the city had changed. It felt unfamiliar. As if we had stepped into a different city—a city in the dark. 

Source: Aghamirzaei, Mohammad Ali, Saray-e Soleiman Khan: Khaterat-e Haj Hossein Fathi, Pishkesvat-e Basij-e Asnaf-e Bazar (Haj Hoosein Fathi’s Memoires), Fatehan Publishing Co. 2012 Pp 96.