Daughter of Sheena (35)

Behnaz Zarrabizadeh

Daughter of Sheena-35
Memories of Qadamkheyr Mohammadi Kanaan
Wife of Sardar Shaheed Haj Sattar Ebrahimi Hajir
Memory writer: Behnaz Zarrabizadeh
Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company, 2011 (Persian Version)
Translated by Zahra Hosseinian

Babies had come to the room and been surprised to see me in new clothes. “I’m sorry,” taking my hand, Samad said, “I’m the guilty person. Forgive me. If I became angry, I couldn’t help it. I know that I went to extremes, but forgive me. You know you're the dearest one for me in all over the world. So far, I have not loved anyone in this world like you. Sometimes I think that lest loving you make me far from God; but when I come to think of it, I see that I’m closer to God by loving you. Every day I thank God hundred thousand times that finally we married. I thought big but the war happened. If you knew what occurred in the front; If you knew what Saddam does to the women and children; If you were there and saw all the suffering and bloodshed, you would understand that I’m right. Qadamkheyr! Don’t be upset. Please understand me. Really, it’s hard. Accept that we do not have any celebration for a long while yet. Go to the Kashani(1) Street and see how hard this war-torn people’s lives. Haven’t they had house and life? They really wish to return to their cities and live in their own houses properly.”
Recovering my senses, I said: “You tell the truth. You are right. I'm sorry.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and said: “Thanks God this issue was cleared for both of us. But another thing I wish to say for a long time is about my own. This is true that now war is a part of our lives. Every time I come home, I say myself this is the last time that I see you and my babies. God knows better that maybe there will be no other time. I’ve requested my friends to give my salary to you. I’ve asked Shamsollah and Teymoor and Sattar to do some other things, so that you won’t be bothered so much.”
I burst into tears and said: “Stop Samad. What do you say? I do not want to hear. Enough is enough.”
With his index finger he wiped my tears and said: “Don’t cry darling. Babies get upset. These are realities. You should practice at the present until you can tolerate them on its time.” He paused and then continued: “This time I go too, don’t expect I come back soon. It may take three or four months. Take care of babies and be patient.”
And I tolerated and was patient. A few days later Samad went and came back home three or four months later. He stayed a week and again went to the front. Sometimes he phoned, sometimes asked his friends, who was on leave, come to us and informed us about his state. His brothers, Mr. Shamsollah, Teymoor and Sattar, also dropped in on us now and then.
My father was always worried about me. Sometimes he would come alone to our house and sometimes he and Sheena would come both. They would stay before us a few days and then go. Sometimes we would go to Qayesh. But I would miss my home when I was there. I would think Samad may return Hamadan at any moment. I would make excuse and was like a cat on hot bricks; until I would reach Hamedan. Our house would always smelled Samad. His clothes, shoes and prayer rug encouraged me.
I had been accustomed to this life. All the joy in my life was that he is alive and healthy. That was enough for me.
Now the war had been drawn to the cities. Sometimes the state of red alert would occur several times at day. Iraqi aircrafts were seen in the sky of city and would bombard residential areas. After all, our lives went on and two years of the war passed.
In 1361(2) , I was pregnant for the third time. I was worried. I thought how I can give birth to another child in these circumstances and brought him or her up. I was sad and Samad was happy. He would use of any opportunity to come to Hamadan and see us. He would do anything for me; had wanted all family to take care of me. He would say: “Please look after Qadamkheyr, when I‘m not here.”
Returning home he would say: “Qadamkheyr! What have you done to me? You stick in my mind. Every moment you are with me.”
But nevertheless, both of us knew that he would find fighting preferable to me. All the family was concerned about us whenever Hamedan was bombarded. His brothers would come and take us to Qayesh monthly. Sometimes they would come to our house with their wife and children and stay some days. They would go when the dust would settle down.
The existence of third child had increased Samad’s life expectancy. He had thought of buying a house and enrolled for it with a lot of debts. One day I saw he came home happily and said: “I’m a weight off my mind about you and our kids. I’ve bought you a house. You won’t be a tenant anymore. We’ll go to our house in summer.”

To be continued…