A University as Big as a House
Meeting with the Mother of Martyr Mustafa Namazifard
Compiled by: Samira Nafar
Translated by: Fazel Shirzad
2024-12-25
On an autumn day, we were guests at the home of the mother of Martyr Mustafa Namazifard; a house in which every corner contained a story of love, sacrifice, and resistance. In this house, we encountered a mother whose heart was a sea of patience and forbearance. Her words were verses of patience and endurance that had come out of the heart of the fires. In a quiet but emotional voice, she spoke of the difficult days of the struggle against the Pahlavi regime; from the days when her young son Alireza was taken from her arms and she never saw him again, to her eldest son Morteza who was injured in the path of ideals and Mustafa who went to greet his martyrdom with a smile. Every word and every sentence of hers imagined Iran in the fever of the revolution and the imposed war before our eyes. The mother said about Mustafa; about when he was a teenager he desire to meet Imam Khomeini and from the university he left at the front; about the promise he made to his mother that if I didn't come within 25 days, don't wait for me anymore; about the last goodbye when he caressed his son's face with trembling hands and considered every moment a treasure to see him; about his desire to make him his son-in-law and the eyes that had become a sea of tears; about a bitter day when he embraced Mustafa's holy body after years of separation; not a body, but a bundle of a few pieces of bone. It was a difficult moment to hear these sentences from the mouth of a mother with thousands of wishes for her son; but the mother of martyr Mustafa Namazifard endured the loss of her son with exemplary patience and adherence to her ideals, as if she had established a great university in the heart of a small house; the University of Resistance, the University of Sacrifice, and the University of Love. A university where he taught us great lessons: the lesson of patience that smiles in the face of hardships and calamities; the sacrifice that sacrifices one's life for the homeland; the love that gives one's whole being to the revolution and to the Imam of its time.
Our meeting with the mother of martyr Mustafa Namazifard ended. Unintentionally, I went forward and hugged her and asked her to pray for us. Hoping to meet again, heroic lady!
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