Seyyed of Quarters 15 (23)

Memories of Iranian Released POW, Seyyed Jamal Setarehdan

2017-4-3

Seyyed of Quarters 15

Memories of Iranian Released POW, Seyyed Jamal Setarehdan

Edited and Compiled by: Sassan Nateq

Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company

‎2016 (Persian Version)‎

Translated by: Zahra Hosseinian

Mansour Mollahzade was one of the members of the base. His father had granted us one of his shops which was near the local base. We used it as the center of our Islamic Association and hold our Quran-reciting meetings there. At sunset, along with neighborhood people, whether the young or the teenagers, we gathered in front of the base and all together went to the mosque for performing congregational prayer. Our presence and collective movement, as well as shouting a slogan and singing songs was new for many of people. We ourselves liked it and got lots of energy. At sunsets, we saw Barat has sat down in front of door when we passed his house. He laughed as heard our voice. We had made a friendly relationship. As soon as he hear my voice, said: "this is you, Seyyed Jamal?"

Sometimes, I went to his house. It had just a bed-room, living-room and a small yard. I sat down beside Barat and we talked and I read poetry, the Quran and the Sūrah Yāʾ-Sīn for him. He liked them and asked me to read again. Some days, I asked his mother’s permission to take him outdoors with myself. And we wandered around the neighborhood and then came back home. One day, he said, "Seyyed Jamal!"

• Yeah dear.
• Let's promise each other that anyone who go to the Heaven first, intercede on the other one behalf.

That day when I was singing a dirge for Barat, his mother brought us tea. I sat down beside Barat for a while and then left their house.

Recalling those days was pleasant to me, but the Iraqis did not allow us to have collective mourning, and if they saw such things, hurt us. I could not be indifferent. I sang dirges which were about Hazrat Abolfazl (AS), when I walked with Turkish-speaking prisoners. In Turkish, I sang the dirge of ‘we have a helper like Hazrat Abolfazl (AS), when we are in trouble’ and they murmured after me.

I murmured dirges and poems which I had memorized them and wept for the innocence of Imam Hussein (AS), when I was alone. At nights, when Iraqis finished counting us, our group sat in a circle and leaned our head on together and recited Ziyarat Ashura. If the guardians saw us, they thought that we were busy talking or playing handy-dandy. Again I could not bear up and in Turkish sang the dirge of ‘at the time of sunset, the orphan is divested of rest and calm.’ for them and we all wept quietly.

Four or five days after the beginning of Muharram, the prisoner who had danced that day, suffered from dysentery; so that, he had no energy. That night, after performing the evening prayers, I went to visit him. He had lain down and his face skin was almost yellow. He got up and sat down when saw me. "Seyyed! That day I didn’t listen to you. Well… God put me in such a state in which I'm dying. Please pray for me, I’ll really repent."

Realizing he has learned his mistake, I consoled him and said, "God is very forgiveness and surely has ignored your sin. I hope you get better and compensate."

Along with other members of our group, we began taking care of him from the next day. We were keeping a part of our meal to give him to eat, until he recovered little by little.

In the morning of Tasu'a, I related events of Ashura morning for prisoners and compared our state with the status of companions of Imam Hussein (AS). At the Ashura day, one of the guardians came into the quarters and said, ‘go out’. A few soldiers were waiting me outside and held cable and baton in their hands. One of them said: "Now you lecture for prisoners?"

They rushed to me. My body became numb with the first hit. It was really strange to me; I did not feel any pain. I said to myself: "Oh, God! I’m getting beaten up on the day when the family of Imam became homeless and got beaten up."

At the noon of Ashura day, the Iraqis played recitation of the Qur'an about one hour through loudspeakers of camp and then kept playing the songs again. On that day, it was our quarters’ turn to receive TV set from camp-15. The Iraqis continued their normal programs without having a special program. On this day, passion play (Ta'zieh) was held in neighborhoods and squares of Ardabil; and when you passed the alleys and streets, you saw all people distributed votive foods. But here, the innocence of the Imam and his family was reminded me any time.

There was no snow in the winter season of Tikrit, but the cold weather penetrated into our bones. We walked under the pale rays of the sun to feel less cold, but the guardians came and shouted, "Go sit down in the shade."

They had their own explanations for everything; for instance, in the summer they explained that the doctor has recommended it is good for us. When we had to sit down in the shade, the cold and biting wind hit our head and face like whip. Our hands and face went red; we put our hands in front of our mouth and blew warm air and then put them under our armpits. We had no warm clothes and woolen socks and when I sat down in the shade, did not feel my toes anymore. I prayed continuously the time of taking fresh air in outdoors to be finished and we go into the quarters. The only thing, which warmed the quarters, was an Aladdin Heater by which the prisoners boiled water in turn and drank it to warm them. The dry winter in Tikrit was as cold as snow and blizzard in Ardabil.

The winter of 1978 in Ardabil was too cold and buying bread and oil was really hard. Snow and coldness caused long queues formed in front of kerosene distribution stations. The oil tanker trucks came late and we became red and blue because of cold weather. People became bored and a least word made them to scold each other. Sometimes, they lost their temper, collared each other, and it was led to fight. One day, after several hours of waiting, the man who was in the charge of oil shop, said: "Don’t wait here for nothing; the oil will be delivered tomorrow!"  

My throat got dry. Everyone said something growlingly, but we had no choice. If we wanted to have a warm house, should tolerate everything. It was darkening and the cold and biting wind increased more and more. Some of the adolescents came to conclusion that to give a few Tomans to three or four ones to watch gallons of oil and the shop during the night and the rest go home. It was a good idea. I gave the money they had asked and then went home. The next day, when I reached in front of the shop, saw the ashes of the fire which had been made by watchers the night before. A few of people were crying, "Now what the hell we can do?"

The night before, apparently, the watchers had rowed and as a result, the plastic oil containers fell on the fire and some of them had been burned or punctured. The watchers did not have anything to say. When the oil tanker truck arrived, people were bustled. We moved forward slowly in the queue. Along with Seyyed Hojat, I filled the gallons and went home pantingly. Those who were at the end of the line, look at us with envy. They stretched their necks and peeped the beginning of the line. They all were afraid lest the oil run out and had to spend another day in the cold.

To be continued…