Da (Mother) 105

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

I cried myself to sleep and, again, was visited by the same nasty nightmares. Scenes of bedlam plagued my thoughts, and a horrible din in my ears. Terrified, when I tried to pry my eyes open, I imagined there was a bright light shining in them. I kept my eyelids shut. I wanted to scream but my voice got stuck in my throat.

Da (Mother) 104

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

I don’t know how long I had been sleeping when I was awakened by loud noises and realized we had reached Mahshahr Hospital. The van stopped before an old brick building. People brought a stretcher and placed me on it. Then two well-built men lifted the stretcher and whisked me off to the operating room. They made Zeynab and Leila wait outside the door.

Da (Mother) 103

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The girls took me under my arms, and we struggled to get up the front steps. They held up my legs, and I managed to get me inside. This was very embarrassing, but the joy of being back and staying in the city eased the embarrassment. I couldn’t stand—not even for a second. My legs were still shaking. Terrible pain shot through me, reaching my head.

Da (Mother) 102

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

She wanted to continue the conversation, but I didn’t have the patience for it. To be truthful, I wasn’t at all fond of her yammering. I told her several times, “Try to put up with it a little more; there are so many people here worse off than you and I. The doctors and nurses are all dead tired, and the wounded keep streaming in. All of them are on their backs, too.”

Da (Mother) 101

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Uncle Hoseyni had gone to Iran from Basra to raise a family when I was a year old. Sometimes he included pictures in the letters he sent to the grandparents. The stylish clothing he and his family wore seemed stunning to me. They weren’t dressed in the dishdashas we wore. Even at that early age I could tell that life in Iran was very different from life in Iraq.

Da (Mother) 100

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

He passed me without waiting for an answer, and, as soon as he took one step away from the sandbags and reached the tracks, he blew up. I was on my knees, and the shock wave flung me to the ground and made my head ring. Now everything I saw and heard seemed like a dream. The sounds I were plain enough:

Da (Mother) 99

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The three of us prayed, sheltering behind the materiel stacked in the corner. The others also prayed and began to eat bread and tinned fish. They offered some of the tins to us as we sat by the boxes of medical supplies. We politely declined. The commander said, “Eat. You’ll need your strength because you’re coming with us to the front.”

Da (Mother) 98

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

No one spoke along the way, but they signaled to one another to be careful so often it scared me to death. Worried my footsteps on the dry grass and leaves would make too much noise, I tiptoed as I moved with the column. At the head of each alley we reached, the soldiers would signal us to stop while scouts reconnoitered.

Da (Mother) 97

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Conditions had become so dangerous and the Iraqis had advanced so far there was no longer any need for me to beg to be taken to the front. Our front lines were falling one after another, and more and more of the central parts of the city were becoming battlegrounds. Because it was too hard to transport the wounded by car, aid workers who could ...

Da (Mother) 96

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

I was in a strange mood these days. I was lost to myself. Everywhere I went, whatever I was doing, father and Ali were always with me. More often than not it was Ali’s face that appeared before me. I didn’t know why. Maybe being more recent, the searing pain of his death was more vivid to me. I was beside myself missing him.
6
...
 
Reza in Revolution

Memoirs of Hujjat al-Islam Reza Motalebi

Hujjat al-Islam Reza Motalebi is a cleric from Isfahan. Before the revolution, he was the imam of the Fallah Mosque – which was later renamed Abuzar Mosque. By his presence and efforts, Abuzar Mosque soon became a base for supporters of the Imam and the revolution. After the victory of the revolution, he played a role in uniting forces and maintaining political vitality in southwest Tehran.

The Necessity of Receiving Feedback in Oral History

Whenever we engage in a task, we naturally seek ways to evaluate our performance — to correct shortcomings and enhance strengths. Such refinement is only possible through the feedback we receive from others. Consider, for instance, a basketball player whose shots are consistently accurate; should he begin shooting blindfolded, his success rate would rapidly decline, as he would be deprived of essential feedback from each attempt.
Book Review

Sir Saeed

The book “Sir Saeed” is a documentary [narrative] of the life of martyr Seyyed Mohammad Saeed Jafari, written by Mohammad Mehdi Hemmati and published by Rahiyar Publications. In March 2024, this book was recognized as one of the selected documentary biographies in the 21st edition of the Sacred Defense Book of the Year Award. The following text is a review on the mentioned book.

Morteza Tavakoli Narrates Student Activities

I am from Isfahan, born in 1336 (1957). I entered Mashhad University with a bag of fiery feelings and a desire for rights and freedom. Less than three months into the academic year, I was arrested in Azar 1355 (November 1976), or perhaps in 1354 (1975). I was detained for about 35 days. The reason for my arrest was that we gathered like-minded students in the Faculty of Literature on 16th of Azar ...