Seyyed of Quarters 15 (33)

Memories of Iranian Released POW, Seyyed Jamal Setarehdan

2017-6-12

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

One morning, when I moved from side to side in my bed, heard the voice of the muezzin for a moment. The morning sleep was pleasure and I wanted to sleep more. I felt that my grandfather has woke up. Opening my eyes, I saw he is groping his way toward yard to perform ablutions. I put my quilt aside and got up. I took his hand. "Do you wake up, Seyyed Jamal?" He said quietly.

I yawned and said, "Good morning, grandpa."

I pushed the door with my foot to open it. I fit together his slippers and took him next to the faucet at the foot of our small pond. My grandfather was eighty-three-years-old and had poor eyesight. We both performed ablutions. Returning to the room, we both performed our prayers. I was five or six years old and was jumping with joy when every week after Friday morning prayers went to the Hazrat Roqieh board with my grandfather. My mother caressed and told words of endearment to me, "well-done sweetheart; it will get you a divine reward."

We changed and went out of the house. I helped my grandfather and took his hand and headed to the house of Mr. Taleie slowly. The fresh air of morning pushed away drowsiness. My grandfather mumbled prayers. With bread and cream and cooked sheep’s head and trotters in their hands, a few people headed to their homes in the alley. Passing them, I smelled fresh bread and the steam of cooked sheep’s head and trotters. Every week, remembering ceremony of Hazrat Roqieh board was held in the house of one of members, but most days it was held at Taleie’s home.

The door of Taleie’s house was open. The shoes in the yard showed some ones have come sooner than us. Ayatollah Seyyed Ghany Ardabili had sat down in the upper part of room. Seeing my grandfather, he stood up and said: "dear Seyyed Yunus. Please come here."

He asked my grandfather to sit down next to himself. They had friendly relationships and sometimes discussed about religious edicts with each other. Seyyed Ghany was the Imam of Kheirabad mosque. The mosque was close to our house and my grandfather asked me to take him there. One day, after performing the noon prayers, they began to talk. My grandfather presented his own opinion, but accepted Seyyed Ghnay’s point of views unquestionably and preferred them to his. I listened to their words, but did not understand what they say. In the middle of their discussion, my grandfather stared at my face and said to Seyyed Ghany: "Don’t think he’s just a little kid. If you ask him about every prayers edicts, he’ll reply!"

My grandfather gathered his grandchildren every Thursday evening, recited Qur'an, and taught us religious edicts and how to perform prayers. My mother set to work and cooked steamed rice for dinner. During the week, we ate steamed rice only on Thursdays. It was not customary people ate steamed rice several days in a week, but most of the times they cooked it on Thursdays and feast days. He recited Yasin and asked us to repeat after him. For learning the prayers and religious edicts, he gave us a five Rial coin; and all the night we showed enthusiasm for being rewarded five Rial and eating steamed rice. Most of the time, I was looking forward for the weekend; I wanted it come earlier, so that I could get reward and eat steamed rice!

With a big smile, Seyyed Ghany asked me about prayers edicts. I answered. He liked and reached his hand and held a twenty Tomans bill toward me. I didn’t even dreamed a twenty Tomans bill have been belonged to me. I didn’t know to get it or not. I looked at my grandfather’s face. I was ashamed and afraid he said why I have gotten it. My grandfather stroked my head and said, "Take your prize, don’t reject Seyyed!"

I took the money and looked down. "Mashallah, well done, son." Seyyed Ghany said.

I walked on air. I put the money into my pocket. I was thinking what to buy and what to do with it.

Little by little, it was crowded. While smiling, many people putting their hand on the chest, and greeting, sat down side by side. That day, Seyyed Ghany explained about some religious edicts and after that remembering ceremony was held.  Mullah Hafiz, Zakertavasoli, Mullah Aba, SeyyedAgha, and Mullah Mirtaher were of the famous city's preachers. In turn, they read a few couples and then repeated names of God. After ceremony, Mr. Taleie asked his sons, Parviz and Kalamallah[1], to prepare breakfast. Parviz and Kalamallah got up and spread a long spread. Well-colored fragrant tea, fresh unleavened bread, cheese, local butter and date-palm, and bowls of sugar were arranged in the spread and all were busy eating.

Not only my grandfather, but many of the guests were regular customers of Seyyed Ghany. On the nights of vigil and prayer during the month of Ramadan and other ceremonies, Seyyed Ghany’s house became very crowded. A blind was drawn in the mosque and women sat down tightly close each other behind it. The noise of their children and hubbub was always loud. Mirza Bashir as usual coordinate the ceremony and each few minutes would tell women off: "Do not fuss!" but who cared. Seyyed Ghany preached from the pulpit gently and measured, and moved people to tears in good time. When it ended, Mirza Bashir gave the breakfast tray to me and said: "Take it for women. Be careful not to drop it."

While having breakfast, women’s hubbub somewhat stopped and only the cups and saucers clicked in the mosque.

I was brought out of my reverie and saw one of Kurds from Sanandaj has stood in front of me. He was about twenty-two years old and one of handsome army NCO. I had been familiarized with him in Jalula camp. He believed in and respected Seyyed people. He told he liked me. Sometimes, we walked together. He called me very respectfully.

Two Iraqi guardians came toward us. They forced us to stand face to face. Then they ordered us hit each other. The army NCO with his Kurdish accent said: "Where?"

One of the guardians showed my face grinning and said, "Here!"

• Where?

"Slap me. If you don’t, they’ll do. It is better you slap me than them." I said.

"I slap Seyyed? No, I don’t slap Seyyed." Helplessly he said.

I begged him but he didn’t slap me. The guardian shoved him and said: "step aside to show you how to slap!"

He slapped me in such a way my vision dimmed. I was dizzied and felt something rings in my head for a few minutes. The guardians walked off laughingly. The army NCO looked at me flabbergasted while crying.

From that day on, they forced friends to stand face to face and slap each other. Seeing the guardians, the army NCO gained distance from me. He didn’t want to slap a Seyyed’s face, but the guardian’s slap was enough for me. It hurt my tympanic membrane and still it hurts sometimes after many years.

To be continued…