Ahmad Ahmad Memoirs (59)

Edited by Mohsen Kazemi

Ahmad Ahmad Memoirs (59)
Edited by Mohsen Kazemi
Soureh Mehr Publishing Company
(Original Text in Persian, 2000)
Translated by Mohammad Karimi

Neglecting the Kids

MKO had occupied our time and life completely. We had forgotten many affairs of our personal life. One of them was neglecting our kids’ rights. Neither my wife nor I noticed the natural rights of our kids. I was drowned in organization’s affair, trainings, rendezvous, and copying the statements & pamphlets; and Fatima was busy with trainings inside groups and studying different books. We could not be good parents for Maryam and Zahra and fulfill them with necessary love of a mother and father.
For taking care of Maryam and Zahra we had a program. One of them had to be kept at my mother-in-law’s house and the other with ourselves. We would change their place with each other periodically. Whenever they were sick we would keep them there to be cured and healthy.
As I told before my twins also would serve MKO activities despite beings only small kids. The students would take Maryam or Zahra in their arms as a sign of being married when they wanted to find a house to rent.
One day my wife and I were at home sitting in a room. I was reading newspaper and Fatima a book. My one year old daughter, Maryam, was creeping this side and that side. She even came to us several times but we did not care and continued our job. After some minutes she went to a corner. I was looking at her over the newspaper’s margin. I saw that she was going to do something. She kneeled and looked at her left and right; then, little by little stood on her feet. I could hardly breathe. It was like a miracle because none of us had done any exercise with her; kids mostly begin walking with the help of parents. This small innocent kid could stand on her feet just by using her own ability and intelligence. I threw the paper somewhere and ran toward her. I hugged her and cried. Her mother also joined us. We took her hands and helped her toddling.

Praying, the Last Reply

One day, Iraj had made an appointment for me to visit Habib and give him The Ideology Change pamphlets. I accepted to go there to visit him. After greetings I asked him: “Habib! What happened to all those struggles, escapes and challenges? What has happened to you? You were with us; we all were Muslims; we would say our prayers together. Now, they say you are a Marxist too!” He said: “Shapour! I was Marxist from the beginning.” I said: “But you would pray with us, interpret Koran and Nahj-ul-Balagheh!” He said: “My praying was a political one. I was a Marxist since 1973.” Hearing these sentences would smash me harder and harder. I felt sorry for my wife and myself and all the ones who their steps in this path frankly; the ones who fell apart from their home and family and drowned in MKO’s whirlpool of hoax and trickery.
They did not stop trying to change my mind by different tricks. The visit and discussion with Shahram, Habib and Iraj had no effect on me and it was hard for them. They began stigmatizing. They wanted to trigger me. Shahram would say: “You are a right-winged opportunist who pretends to be leftist.” When Iraj could not convince me, he would say: “You are a dogmatic zealous reactionary religious man who is blind by religion. You can see and understand the truth just when you put away this dogmatism.” He believed my praying was a sign of this dogmatism. One day he said: “As a test, stop praying for five days and then let’s begin discussing; then you will see Marxism is the only way to victory. If you accept what we say after these five days, that’s ok; and if you could not, you have not lost anything; say your prayers again and remain benighted.”
Iraj’s temptations affected me. One day, when all the others were present, I decided to do what he said. I, the one who would always say his prayers on time, decided not to pray for some time. The moments were passing by; we were reaching to the noon’s call for prayers. I was drowned in thoughts. The call finished; despite having ablutions I did not stood up to pray; moments by moment my nervousness would increase. After an hour I was fed up with worry and nervousness. The hands of the clock would move fast. I felt that I was falling in hell. My worries were more and more serious. I asked myself how I could tolerate not saying my prayers for day when I cannot handle this worry and nervousness of an hour!? My nervousness reached to climax. I felt that I was losing my child. My body was burning.
Team-members became worried about me. They were watching me astoundingly. They did not know what to do. I was disturbed. I would walk the room’s width and length by fast steps. My face was sweating. It was a strange feeling. I reviewed all my political life in those hours and brought all the scenes of being tortured, imprisoned, and exiled from my family to my mind. The hands of the clock speed would seem deadly to me. I wished them to be stopped. My feeling in those hours is indescribable.
It was after 5 o’clock. I became a lunatic. My heart was burning and my eyes were thundering. Like a dove in cage I was hitting to iron walls around. Maybe all these were just because of my ablutions. I watched the clock; there was not much time left to pray the noon prayers. Suddenly the hands of the clock stopped. I put away all my delusive thoughts and began praying while weeping; “Allahu Akbar…!” I thought not only the house but all the earth and time were trembling. I was weeping and praying: “…It is “You” we worship…, Guide us to the straight path…, not of those against whom there is anger, nor of those who are misguided…” (1)
My eyes were weeping like a spring rain. All those fire extinguished. I got cold and began trembling of coldness. I was lamenting, mourning: “Allah is glorious”. The tears were cleaning me: “Praise to Almighty God who is the Highest and I am worshiping Him.”
Oh Lord! What had happened and where I had been connected to? I felt myself so close to God; I was touching him. I almost forget that I was praying and I did not notice when I finished it. (2) I was prostrating when Parviz called me. I saw it was wet all under my feet. I found myself and stood up. I remembered what had happened and thanked God that saved me again. I looked at the others. Iraj, Parviz, Khosrow, and Shapourzadeh were all gazing at me; none would speak a word. It was only Parviz who was massaging my shoulders. Iraj was upset; it seemed he felt sorry about his suggestion. He had observed how great the effect of few hours delay in saying my prayers was and understood his suggestion had a reverse effect. This pray was my last riposte to all their ludicrous statements. I blinded the hopes. The “Allahu Akbar” in my prayers was the most official and clearest position that I could take to respond them. This pray was a complete interpretation of this verse: “those who struggle in our cause, we will surely guide them to our ways; and Allah is with those who do good.”(3)

1. Parts of Al-Fatihah Chapter in Koran which is used several times in Muslim’s daily prayer.
2. Mr. Ahmad showed the same feelings when narrating these beautiful memories by weeping steadily.
3. Koran, Chapter 29: AL-ANKABOOT (THE SPIDER), Verse 69.