The Days without Mirror (Part 14)

2019-2-19

The Days without Mirror (Part 14)

Memoirs of Manijeh Lashgari; The wife of released pilot, Hossein Lashgari

Edited by: Golestan Jafarian

Translator: Zahra Hosseinian

Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company

‎2016 (Persian Version)‎

We had bought a beautiful cradle for Ali. I dressed him with colorful short-sleeve blouses and shorts; and an hour before Hossein came home, I placed the cradle behind the entrance door. I turned on the air conditioner in bedroom, but turned the one in the salon off, in order the baby did not get cold. All the windows and doors had a screen, because there were a lot of snakes and scorpions and lizards in Khuzestan. I opened the entrance door and when Hossein came, he was seen through the screen. Front door opened to a small stair; Hossein laid his foot on it and untied his boots’ laces. As soon as Hossein reached behind the door-screen, the baby moved his hands and legs so joyfully that charmed you. Hossein began expressing terms of endearment from behind the screen: ‘my sweetheart Ali...my brave son... how are you?’ Ali pricked up his ears, rose on his elbows in the cradle, laughed, and made cooing sounds. Then, Hossein entered and rushed straight to Ali’s cradle with his sweaty flight suits in the 50 degrees temperature of Khuzestan. ‘Hossein, honey, first take a shower...’ I ran toward him and said, ‘like this…you can’t even take Ali's finger!’

He listened to me, because our baby’s safety was very important to him. He took a shower, changed his clothes, and then hugged Ali. He began kissing and playing with baby. ‘Hossein, come, food’s getting cold.’ I kept saying, and he said: ‘Don’t say anything, Manijeh. Let me play with my baby to my heart’s content.’

One day Hossein came home with a big package. He then brought some boiling water and the baby dish next to Ali's cradle. I asked, ‘What do you want to do, Hossein?’

‘Finally, I found my son's formula. I want to feed him.’

‘Don’t do this. My mom’s told not to give him anything until six months old.’

‘If he ate, it’s clear that he liked it and we should give him.’

He prepared the formula, spooned very little of it, and then put it into Ali’s mouth. Ali ate the formula with such an appetite that seemed he’s liked it. Hossein was excited and said, ‘You see, my son wants food.’

During the night, Ali was awakened two or three times to suckle. We had placed Ali’s bed beside ours. Hossein always lay down on the side of our baby’s bed. ‘Let me wake up,’ he said, ‘whenever baby wakes up for suckling.’ And he really woke up, hugged Ali, and gave him to me. When suckling was over, I was so sleepy that Hossein had to hug Ali to belch; then he lay him down in his bed. It had been a permanent duty for Hossein to sleep adjacent Ali’s bed, and to sit next to me when I was suckling.

It was late August, when my mother phoned me and said, ‘you’ve been invited to your cousin’s wedding ceremony; come to Tehran.’ We had not met them about three months. Hossein wanted to go to Tehran, and we set out. From Tehran, Hossein traveled to Qazvin for two or three days to visit his father. During the same three days, we had several calls from the base; they wanted to speak with Hossein. I said that he is not here; until a letter was sent to my father's house by general staff. Hossein was called to introduce himself to the base by twenty-four hours.

Hossein returned from Qazvin quickly and packed his bags. ‘Hossein, now that you want to go,’ Haj Khanum said, ‘tell me what I cook for lunch?’

‘Thank you, I think Spanish rice is good. Of course, Manijeh stays here and I’ll go alone.’

I was dismayed as soon as he said Manijeh and Ali stay. ‘Why?’ I asked.

‘Bases have been in a mess,’ he said, ‘Iraqis are harassing in borders and shooting our forces.’ I suddenly burst into tears and said. ‘I miss you. Hossein, please take me with you!’

He kissed my hand and said, ‘don’t cry darling, I miss you and Ali too. Believe me, if you come, you will get into trouble. Borderlines are unsafe. I had to be in the base from morning to late at nights. I can’t be with you and our baby. Most pilots have sent their wife to Tehran. Now you have an opportunity to stay with your mother in Tehran. I’ll feel completely at ease when you stay here.’

He did not like goodbye moment. He got angry when sometimes people began talking by the door at goodbye moment. ‘Come on! Say goodbye and go’, he objected.

On Friday, September 11, 1980, Hossein hugged and kissed Ali, then kissed me. ‘Hossein, I miss you so much.’ I declared.

‘Whenever you missed me, look at our son.’

I kept crying and did not let Hossein to go out. My mother took Ali from Hossein's arms and directed me to a room. Through the window, I saw Haj Khanum was busy speaking with Hossein. She also burst into tears suddenly. ‘Why’s Haj Khanum crying?’ I asked my mother.

My mother, who did not know how to answer, said, ‘she’s very tender-hearted...nothing.’

On Saturday, Ali should be vaccinated for the first time. At that time, it was buttocks injection, not intramuscular. Hossein called at night and asked, ‘How’s the baby, Manijeh? Vaccination was done?’

I replied, ‘Yeah. Where’re you? Why haven’t called from morning? I rang home several times, why didn’t you answer?’

‘From morning till now, I’ve not taken my boots off. I was in the battalion all the time. You see, I told you that it’s better not to come here.’

Then he asked, ‘Ali's vaccinated? Isn’t he in a fever?’

I said, ‘he does. His body is hot from sunset?’

He began to recommend, ‘For the sake of God, take care of him. Tell Haj Khanum to give him a foot-bath and anti-febrile medication. If necessary, visit a doctor.’

He repeatedly recommended me how to take care of Ali. I said, ‘that’s ok! My mom and Haj Khanum know all you’re talking about. Don’t worry. Put your mind at ease about me and Ali.’

He no longer phoned during days. Only after 9:00 pm on, he phoned. Whenever I phoned to the base, they either said that he is flying or is in the flight room. I knew the flight room had tough rules. No line was connected to the flight room; even the worst news of his life, such as the death of his parents, was not given to him.

My family, brothers and sisters, loved me. But I did not have a good time. I looked blue. I was worried and anxious. On the 17^th of September, at Wednesday night, Hossein called: ‘I can’t speak much, I'm very busy. Are you okay? What about our baby?’

I said, ‘I’m fine, Ali’s fine too. He has no fever, but the injection site on his hip is hurting and makes him restless.’

Again, he began recommending, ‘Manijeh, honey, take care of him for the sake of God. When you put him in the bed, please lay him on the side not to be injected. Be careful, lest your hand hit his hip suddenly while you’re suckling him. Tell your mom to massage gently the injection site with warm water when bathe him.’

‘Ok... right, honey... tell me about yourself, how’s everything?’ I said.

‘We’re so busy that I don’t understand how the nights and days go on.’

‘I want to come there, Hossein.’

‘You can’t darling... in no way. I myself will come to you if things calm down, God willing. Now I have to go. Call you tomorrow night.’

To be continued…