SABAH (55)

Memoirs of Sabah Vatankhah

Interviewed and Compiled by Fatemeh Doustkami
Translated by Natalie Haghverdian

2021-4-13


SABAH (55)

Memoirs of Sabah Vatankhah

Interviewed and Compiled by Fatemeh Doustkami

Translated by Natalie Haghverdian

Published by Soore Mehr Publishing Co.

Persian Version 2019

 


 

In the afternoon, Shahnaz and I went to Taleghani hospital to visit our father but the nurses informed us that he has been transferred to Opidey hospital. We went there. We saw Reza Alboughabish in the hospital. He was one of those fighters who commuted to mosque from the first days of the war. Ever since Sheikh Sharif had come to Khorramshahr, Reza was his driver and full-time companion. He was a known face among the Khorramshahr team members. I had heard that he a few other soldiers have been wounded in the shooting of last time and I was happy to see him alive. Reza Alboughabish was fully bandaged but he could speak. I asked him about the happening. He said that two three other cars which was commuting from Governor’s office to Chehel Metri street had been captured by Iraqis.

He said: “When they saw that there is a clergy man among us, they became very happy. They started feasting and dancing. They said we have captured a Khomeini. Sheikh Sharif read his martyrdom verse and turned to Iraqis saying we are all Muslims and only Saddam is not a Muslim and has turned us against each other. They attacked Sheikh brutally and started hitting and insulting him. After they hit his thin and small body fully, they volleyed him. They started shooting him in the feet first and then moved to the upper part of the body. During the shooting, Sheikh Sharif said God is Great and there in nothing else than God. Around ten individuals had surrounded Sheikh, some of them hit him and others danced around him. At the same time one of the Iraqis hit the turban with a bayonet and dropped it on the ground. They were all shouting. We have captured Khomeini.  Sheikh was saying in Arabic: Khomeini is the Hossein of our time and Saddam is the Yazid of our era. Walk out of Yazid flag and come to Imam Hossein flag.

The commander of Iraqis got angry since he could not mute Sheikh Sharif. He pushed his bayonet into Sheikh’s temple and swirled it around. Sheikh moaned saying we are from God and we return to him and God is great. The barbarian commander cut the skull of Sheikh up his eyebrows and dropped on the ground; one could see the brain of Sheikh. The Iraqis were dancing and when they saw the skull, they started passing it to each other, dancing and saying: we killed Khomeini.

After dragging his body on the ground and hitting him, they took his turban and turned it around his neck and hung him from the second floor of a building.[1]

Reza Alboughabish could not continue any more. When he was narrating the happening, we were all crying. I could not believe how disrespectful that have behaved with him. My heart was pounding fast and burning. What hard moments this martyred clergy has had.

Mosadegh was crying quietly. He had been wounded yesterday and was hospitalized. I could see Sheikh Sharif’s face with his sky-blue long garment in front of my eyes. I could not believe how much disrespect has been done towards his being.

Until eight and nine o’clock at night, Abdolreza Alboughabish, Mosadegh, Mozhgan Ambashi and other injured individuals, rescuers and drivers of the cars, were lying half unconscious and wounded on the ground. The Iraqis left them there since they thought that they are all dead. Around nine o’clock at night, the soldiers have regained their strength and re-capture the area that Alboughabish and other soldiers are lying on the ground and transfer them to the hospital.

The nurses did not let us stay more. They said that the soldiers need rest. We bid farewell and came out of the hospital.

In the storage of Hotel Karevansara which was actually the basement of the hotel, there were a few cloth rolls. Black, grey and … clothes. My dress was in a very bad condition. In the last few days, I had worn the same dress and it was soaked and covered in blood and soil and seemed worn out. I had no money to buy a dress from Abadan bazar therefore I decided to take a few meters of that clothes and make a manteaux for myself. There were needles, threads, scissors and all sewing items in the storage. I took the scissors and cut around two meters of the grey cloth and made a long and loose manteaux for myself with the help from Shahnaz. Despite my minimum facilities, it turned out to be a good and very useful manteaux.

On the twenty sixth day of first month of autumn, the kitchen team also moved from Electricity Organization building to Hotel Karevansara. The building was unsafe. The member said that a few hours after they left, a mortar bomb has hit near the building and Isa has been martyred on the spot.

One day when we were sitting in the yard of the hotel, we heard shouting and screaming from the door and a few individuals started fighting together. We went to see what is happening. It was as if Mr. Hashemi forces have asked a soldier from Khorramshahr, who wanted to enter the hotel, where he was going and with whom he wants to meet, and he has lost control suddenly saying that this is our house and you, who have come from one thousand kilometers away, are questioning us to commute in our city!

The fighters in Khorramshahr had become very sensitive and irritable. It was as if we had all spent our stock of patience and mood during the war. Our tolerance had decreased significantly.

As soon as they saw us, they felt shy and stopped their action. I went to Mr. Hashemi and said: “Brother, we have lost everything. We have no living and no family left. There is nothing left from our city. Please tell your soldiers to be more tolerant with the Khorramshahr soldiers. These poor human beings do not have proper nerves at the moment. How come you expect them to consider everything? They are not their own self right now.”

Mr. Hashemi nodded approving my words and said: “I will talk to my soldiers to be more tolerant with Khorramshahr soldiers as of now.”

A few moment later, without Mr. Hashemi saying anything to anybody, I saw that the young soldier who had talked improperly to the Khorramshahr soldier, went and kissed his face and said: “brother, I am very young and still have not grown full mustache but we now dignity and honor. I truly apologize.”

The group said Salavat and they went their own ways.

Kitchen team made a kitchen in the corner of the yard of the hotel. Hotel had tanker of water and was fully supported by foodstuff and almost everything could be found in its store room including rice and beans to tomato sauce and meat.

In the evening of twenty sixth day, I went to hospital again. Although I had been there yesterday, but I felt like going there again. I went to see Reza Alboughabish and other soldiers. I asked about their wellbeing and came out of hospital. At the gate, I saw Zahra Sharre. She asked: “Where are you going?” I said: “I am going to Karevansara hotel, our team is there.” She asked: “Can I come with you?” I said: “No problem, let’s go.”

We went towards the hotel. We were at the beginning of the route that a car in which a few commandoes were riding, stopped and one of them asked: “Sisters where are you going?”

Due to our volume of commutes in Khorramshahr, our faces were familiar for most of the military personnel and commandoes. Maybe because of this acquaintance, they stopped and asked where we were going. I wanted to tell them that we are going to Karevansara hotel that all of a sudden, Zahra said: “we are going to Khorramshahr!”

One of the commandoes said: “We are also going to Khorramshahr. You can come with us.”

We got into the car. I was anxious. I did not think that I could return to Khorramshahr so soon. I did not even know what I could do there or where to go when I get there. I just wanted to reach Khorramshahr only. When I was there, I did not feel lonely and stranger even if one member of my family did not accompany me.

We passed the bridge. We went into Imam Khomeini Street or river shore road and went to Jame mosque. While we were dismounting, they told us to stay near the mosque. The military forces were lying in alert position in their trenches. They were stationed in Fakhre Razi Street and opposite mosque.

We went inside. A few soldiers were sitting on the floor in the yard. They greeted us when we walked in. one of them was so happy to see us and said: “Sister you are still in the city?! Thanks God!”

I felt that they felt better when they saw us and believed that the city is still standing and we can be hopeful.

The mosque was almost empty. Only a few soldiers were there. The mosque felt estranged. The mosque who was silent and estranged now was full of life until a few days ago. An inner feeling told me to bid farewell to the mosque. This is your last visit. It is not obvious when you will come here again. We stayed in the yard and watched the mosque.

At the door of the mosque, we saw Major Sharif Nasab entering. We were still greeting each other that he asked us with a solid and surprised impression: “What are you doing here?” I said: “We have come to visit. We thought we might be of any help.” He said: “You can not stay here. There is nothing for you to do here. The situation is very dangerous here. Leave the city quickly. How come you have stayed until now? All female are gone.” I said: “We had also gone but we returned.” He said: “How did you enter the city?!” I said: “A group of commandoes were coming from Abadan and brought us with them.” He said: “What have they done! Quickly leave the city until you have not caused any problem for yourselves and us.”

While we were saying good bye and while exiting Khorramshahr, a line from a poem by Sa’adi was echoing in my head. I had learnt this poem in poem reciting sessions with my father and sisters. The poem read:

While the soul is leaving the body, all kind of words are said. I saw with my own eyes that my soul was departing, I really felt that my soul is leaving my body. In my while life, I had never wished from the bottom of my heart that I was a boy until that moment. If I were a boy, nobody could send me out of town. Then I could stand and fight with the Iraqis to the last breath and last drop of blood.

At the entrance of the mosque, a pick-up was standing which wanted to leave town to bring food for the soldiers. Zahra and I got into the pick-up reluctantly. Hossein Fakhri, son of Haj Agha Fakhri, who was famous and well known in Khorramshahr for his eulogy skills, was sitting in the back of pick-up. When the car moved, Zahra told Hossein Fakhri: “Brother, please sing for us, my heart is full of sadness.”

Hossein Fakhri who was a shy person, turned red and bended his head down and said: “I cannot do it now.”

Poor man was shy. Zahra insisted again and said: “I swear to God, please sing. We are going out of town. My heart is full of sadness. I want to cry. Please sing.”

Besides Zahra Sharre and I, two three other soldiers were also in the rear of the pick-up. They started asking him to sing when they saw Zahra pleading. Hossein Fakhri started reciting Rowzeh of Ashoura noon. Rowzeh of Moghatel. As soon as he started, Zahra and I burst into tears. My tears dropped quickly and I had no control over them. I was exploding. It was a good thing that Zahra asked him to sing.

Near the airport square, Hossein Fakhri finished his reciting. We said goodbye and dismounted. At that point I turned my face towards Khorramshahr and stared at it for a few minutes. My look was full of pleading and ency. I was wishing from the bottom of my heart that this would be a nightmare and somebody would wake me up.

It was at sunset that we got into the hotel. I told team members that I went to Khorramshahr. All of them envied me. They asked about the situation of the city. I told them that the city has not fallen yet but there is no hope for it. I fell asleep with the dream of Khorramshahr and with the memoirs of the instances I had spent in it. The memoirs of teenage and school years. They passed in front of my eyes one by one. A bad feeling of not having any information and not knowing what would happen had come to me and my city. I handed Khorramshahr over to God to protect.

 

To be continued …

 


 

1] Detailed story of Sheikh Sharif's martyrdom narrated by Reza Alboghbish in Sheikh Sharif's book; A look at the life and struggles of Hojjatoleslam Mohammad Hussein Sharif Qonouti, Oruj Publishing House, pages 147, 146 and 148.

 


 
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