The 371st Night of Memories – 2

Compiled by: Iranian Oral History Website
Translated by: Fazel Shirzad

2025-10-14

Note: The 371st Night of Memories was held on August 28, 2025, at the Sooreh Hall of the Arts Centers. In this program, Ahmad Saqafi, Mohammadreza Golshani, and Vahid Faraji shared their memories. Davood Salehi hosted the session.

The second narrator of this Night of Memories, Mohammadreza Golshani, was born in Tehran and raised in the Narmak neighborhood. He entered the workforce at the age of nine and experienced various jobs, ranging from tailoring to marine technician. His path to the military was also full of ups and downs; he initially went to the police station but left due to his father’s objection. Later, he joined the newly formed Revolutionary Guards, but again his father’s dissatisfaction prevented him from continuing. Finally, at the age of 18, coinciding with his birthday on December 25, he chose the path of the army. Later, he realized that he had been exempted for two reasons, but divine destiny had placed him on the path of war and the Sacred Defense. After seven months on the frontlines, he was captured and spent ten of the best years of his life in Iraqi camps.

The host introduced him as a wounded combatant, cheerful, and artistic, and said he would talk about the “world of art and sports in captivity.”

At the beginning of his speech, the narrator, referring to the special place of sports and art in captivity, said: the late Hajj Aboutorabi had strong recommendations regarding these two matters; sports to strengthen the body and art to elevate the soul. In Mosul 4 camp, which was known as the saboteurs’ camp, we faced many restrictions. Our free sports activities were limited to football, volleyball, and basketball on the cement floor, but sports such as Taekwondo, wrestling, judo, and Aikido were forbidden, and we practiced them secretly in the barracks so the Iraqis wouldn’t notice.

He then pointed to a moral point from the late Aboutorabi and said: he even considered escaping the camp forbidden because of the consequences of torture for the remaining 1,400 prisoners, and he used to say: “Spend your time strengthening your body, mind, and soul; Iran will need you after liberation.”

The narrator continued, speaking about the amazing combination of these two fields, sports and art, and added: during captivity, we broke down martial arts films that only showed a few display techniques and, for the first time in the world, performed a “symbolic religious martial theater” under extreme limitations and deprivation. This performance was called “The Ambush of Sacrifice,” and the actors had to truly perform martial techniques.

The writer and director of this work was the martyr Mohammadreza Herati. During captivity, we were injected with vaccines that later turned out to contain chemical substances affecting Herati’s heart. Years later, when a donor heart was prepared for him, he refused it and said to give it to a younger person in greater need. In response to this act of sacrifice, he recited a ghazal, and hence the performance was named “The Ambush of Sacrifice.”

Each theater role represented one of the inner powers of humans; the boxer played the role of “hand,” the Taekwondo practitioner the role of “foot,” and the samurai the role of “tongue.” The “commanding self” ordered: go strike, hit, and so on; but “reason” stood against it. Meanwhile, “divine justice” or “God’s judgment” acted as the referee and law overseeing this battle. For the samurai roles, we creatively wove wigs from torn blanket pieces and tied them to our heads with elastic!

The theater performance had a unique feature: the fights were performed in slow-motion style. In the end, the main battle scene took place between two prominent masters, Mohammadreza Varsideh (student of Mirzaei) and Reza Bayadi (master of boxing, gymnastics, and yoga), and the performance concluded with the prayer of Imam Ali (pbuh) in the Kumayl prayer:

« قُوْ عَلَى خِدْمَتِکَ جَوَارِحِی»

»It means, both sports and art must serve human elevation«.

In another part of speech, the narrator lamented the neglect of the works of freed prisoners: we presented our theater and film projects, but in the end, when films like “The Outcasts” were made, not a single role was given to real free guys. He, in contrast, praised the true artists of the captivity era; he considered Baqer Abbasi’s humor better than many of today’s celebrities and introduced Masoumeh Abad as a liberated lady whose worship and faith in solitary confinement were so awe-inspiring that the Iraqis did not dare offend her.

He continued, criticizing the disregard for freed prisoners and their values, and spoke of their silent services to the country, sharing a memory of Ahmad Rouzbehani, one of the commanders of the National Security Police in the 2000s: despite being offered an 8-billion-toman bribe to overlook a corruption case, he not only rejected it but also pursued the approval of a law to increase the punishment for distributing private films in parliament. These people are the true children of the revolution, serving quietly.

In conclusion, the narrator said: I am in contact with many freed prisoners and, in a way, act as their public relations officer in the country. The reason I stand here today and take your time is out of a sense of duty; my responsibility is to explain the services and struggles of these dear ones to today’s generation.

To be continued...