SABAH (24)

Memoirs of Sabah Vatankhah

Interviewed and Compiled by Fatemeh Doustkami
Translated by Natalie Haghverdian

2020-8-25

SABAH (24)

Memoirs of Sabah Vatankhah

Interviewed and Compiled by Fatemeh Doustkami

Translated by Natalie Haghverdian

Published by Soore Mehr Publishing Co.

Persian Version 2019

Chapter Six

Jameh mosque was very crowded. Families, holding their wraps of clothing in hand were sitting anxiously and terrified in a corner of the yard and seraglio of the mosque. Most of them were poor families. There was a strange humming in the mosque. People, confused and terrified, were looking for a solution to save themselves of this disaster. Neither the mosque nor the houses were safe anymore. We did not know how long this situation would last. Crying babies have made their mothers restless. These poor souls had every right to be so restless. Fear and anxiety could be detected in the faces of their parents, let alone them. Some were hungry and some thirsty. Many were barefoot. Many were standing at the gate of the mosque to find a transport to escape the city.

AbdolReza Samei, Governor of Khorramshahr, had sent three large vehicles to transport people out of the city. People were not supposed to carry any furniture and could only get into the vehicles and leave the city. At the same time, a truck brought ice from Ahwaz. In the blink of an eye, the ice was de-loaded and people filled in the truck. Men, women, and children mounted in the truck. Some of them were even dangling from the truck. I was looking at those shocked the helpless people who clanged to the truck to get into it and were begging each other. Those who were rich and had relatives outside the city had escaped the city in one or two day. Most people had stayed in the city to defend their land and could not leave easily.

In the mosque, men and women were mixed together. I did not know what they wanted to do with these people. However, one thing was obvious; the mosque does not have the capacity to accommodate all these war-stricken people and eventually they had to come up with another solution for this ever increasing crowd. Most of those who had lost their loved ones in these one or two days were restless, crying, and moaning. I saw my schoolmates and active members from Jihad and the demonstrations, such as Mahnaz Khaksar, Khadijeh Bazoun and Abbasi family.

Mom and Shahnaz came to mosque with Fouziyeh and Nahid. They told us that they had tried to convince my father to come along, but he disagreed. My mom had insisted that the district is empty and there is no security, but my father had not accepted and said: “I will not present my house and living to the enemy in a silver platter. I will stay here and fight.” Shahnaz said: “I tried to convince father saying that they are attacking the city with cannonball and mortar bombs, how will you stand against them with an M1!” he did not listern. My father had said: “how can I leave my house among all these Arab Public and hypocrite neighbors?” Shahnaz said: “the only thing I could persuade him to do was to convince him to go to stadium or Shalamcheh and be with other forces. He should not stay home alone and should only check our house every once in a while. He apparently had agreed.”

Auntie Maryam told my mom about the cannonball that hit the doctor’s house. They both cried a lot. Then she told that the Corps has ordered us to leave the houses and go to Jameh mosque.

Fouziyeh and Nahid had fried the remaining fishes from lunch and brought them to the mosque for dinner. Kids were hungry but I could barely eat one of two bites. I wasn’t hungry at all.

We said our evening and night prayers in the mosque. After the prayers, a few trusted men like Mahmoud Farokhi and his father Haj Ali Farokhi, Mr. Sabouni, Mohammad the ministrant of the mosque and Abdollah Mohammadi known as “Abd Mohammadi” who was brother of Younes Mohammadi, started to separate men and women. It was to preserve the sanctity of the mosque and separate the married couples and strange men and women from one another. We directed women to a corner with the help of Rana Najar, Elaheh, Shahnaz and Fouziyeh. Then we helped them to arrange their suitcases and beddings and belongings. We took women inside the mosque and men stayed in the yard. The Iraqi attacks were less after ten at night. There were less commotion and fuss in the mosque compared to the beginning of the night. From time to time, we could hear the crying and moaning voice of a grieving person.

We went to the seraglio to sleep. Mona was clinging to my mom and asking for my father. My mom was impatient and could not comfort her. One minute, she wanted water and the next she had to go to the bathroom and the next she was hungry! We were all together except for my father, Saleheh and Ali; Abbas, Mohsen, Mona, Shahnaz, Fouziyeh and I. The space was tight and we had to sleep in that tiny space. Auntie Maryam and her children were with us too. Elaheh lied next to me. We were both silent. We had a lot to talk about but we couldn’t. I moved from one side to another a few times. I closed my eyes to force myself to sleep. I did not know what tomorrow had for us but the grieve experience of the past two days was telling me that there were worst days to come. 

Early in the morning, prior to the prayer, my mom woke me up. I waited long in the queue of the toilet for ablution. The facilities and toilets of the mosque were not enough for a crowd that big. The sound of the prayer was heard in the mosque. Everybody woke up for the prayer. People said their prayers individually. It was daylight. Auntie Maryam told us to go to Mr. Galeh Dari’s place. He was one of the relatives of Amoo Hejab. Amoo Hejab had stayed in his own place last night. Mr. Galeh Dari had come to take my auntie and her family to their place for breakfast but Amoo Hejab had told him that the children have gone to the mosque. He had come after auntie Maryam and her children.

I went with my auntie and her family to Mr. Galeh Dari’s place which was close to the mosque. We did not know from where he had been able to buy Halim[1] in this messy situation. We sat down to eat. We had barely put the first bite in our mouth that the Iraqis started their attacks. At the beginning, the explosions were far but then they started getting closer and closer.

After a few seconds, the house started shaking with a loud explosion and we heard the sound of quivers and pieces of bricks hitting the wall in the yard. We jumped to the middle of the street. Somebody was barefoot and the other had one shoe on and the other in hand. We were shivering. The sound of the explosion was so close that we thought that the mortar bomb has hit the middle of our yard whereas it had hit the house next door.

Thanks God that the house was empty and there were no casualties. The place was not safe anymore. We returned to the mosque without even touching our royal breakfast. Mr. Galeh Dari’s family also accompanied us. Mom had bought cream from Safa Bazar, which was in the back of the mosque. She had also turned on the Samovar in the mosque and prepared tea. They were having breakfast that we arrived. We told them about the explosion. We had breakfast with them.

That day, Amoo Hejab decided to send auntie and her children to Sar Bandar to stay with his nephew. He believed that they could not stay there more. Elaheh was the only one objecting to the decision. She didn’t want to leave Khorramshahr. When she found out that we do not intend to leave Khorramshahr as well, she became more confident and pleaded auntie and Amoo Hejab to let her stay. She insisted so much that her father agreed. They decided that she stays with us temporarily until Amoo Hejab takes auntie and his children to Sar Bandar and return to collect Elaheh. Amoo Hejab, auntie and children set out for Sar Bandar with Najar family except for Rana and her younger sister – whose name was Fariba I guess – and her two brothers. Najar family had paternal relativity to Amoo Hejab.

The radio was on in the mosque twenty-four seven and we could hear the voice from the speaker. The radio in Abadan stopped its programs every fifteen minutes and broadcasted alarm siren. Again when the attack thread was gone, the program would stop and the siren would be broadcasted. All of a sudden the radio anchor said: “dear brothers and sisters! From this moment on the situation will be red and considering the current situation, there will be no white situation!”

Since yesterday, meaning second day of autumn, people were gathered and transferred to the mosque with the efforts of the Corps forces. After breakfast, we were talking with Elaheh and Mahnaz Khaksar who was my classmate when we heard the sound of a mortar bomb explosion next to the mosque. Three of us went out and ran towards the explosion location to help. When the dust and smog disappeared, we noticed that the house is empty and nobody is hurt. We returned to the mosque. At the entrance of the mosque, a young man around thirty years of age approached us asking if anybody is injured and we said no.

We went inside the mosque. We saw that the same young man, whom his friends called Khalili, placed a bed and a curtain in the corner of the court next to the women’s seraglio. The appearance and style of Khalili, which we later found out that his full name if Khalil Najar, was not like the revolutionary members. He was a tall brunet with black and thick mustache and curly long hair. He was more like youngsters before the revolution. A young girl called Keshvar was beside him. She pushed a small table on wheels, which we later learnt is called trolley, besides the bed and the curtain. There were a few small steel containers on the table. Some of these containers, which they called gallipot, had caps and the rest didn’t. In the containers with caps, they had placed alcohol swabs and in the rest, there were some scissors and a small forceps. I went to the girl. We greeted.  I introduced myself and asked: “why have you brought these here?” she said: “Khalili has brought these items from a physician’s office in which he had been a secretary, to treat outpatients.”

I liked the idea. As we were standing in the yard of the mosque chatting, I noticed four or five women without cover (hejab) and three or four small children coming to the mosque covered in soil and blood and they were barefoot. They came shouting and screaming. It was obvious that their house had been targeted and they had been able to drag themselves out of the rubbles.  They only had a few light wounds but they were shouting and screaming out of terror. We sat them in a corner. Somebody brought water and helped them wash their faces and drink a bit. Then we took a few scarves from other women in the seraglio and gave them to wear. Khalil Najar treated the light scratches on their hands and faces. It took them half an hour to calm down.

No vehicle left the city empty. All vehicles including pickups and heavy vehicles were full of people and their primary living assets. Some of them who could not find transportation, walked towards Abadan on foot with the hope of finding a vehicle to mount. I witnessed bitter scenes. A city, which was full of life until a few days ago, had lost its attractions overnight. Everywhere I looked; there was a ruined house or people who were escaping.

Nobody knew what would happen within the next hour. It was not clear if those who had left their houses, leaving and running away in haste would make it to a safe place or not! Heavy smog was covering the city. The smog was a sign that the refinery and its oil tanks were set on fire.

I was with Elaheh in the seraglio that a few people came running covered in dirt. Among them was a garbled man covered in dust who was about fifty years old. He held the hand of a girl who was about ten twelve years old pale in fear. Mahnaz ran towards them and screamed: “what has happened?!”

That man was Mahnaz’s father and the little girl was her sister. Mahnaz had come to the mosque from the second day and her father and younger sister were home. Their mother had died a few years ago. Mahnaz’s father said: “there was a blast near our house and we came here for refuge.”

To be Continued…