Daughter of Sheena (26)

Behnaz Zarrabizadeh

Daughter of Sheena-26
Memories of Qadamkheyr Mohammadi Kanaan
Wife of Sardar Shaheed Haj Sattar Ebrahimi Hajir
Memory writer: Behnaz Zarrabizadeh
Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company, 2011 (Persian Version)
Translated by Zahra Hosseinian

In Hamadan, earlier, we had no family or friends and acquaintances with whom we associated. My only amusement was that to take Khadija’s hand, hug Masumah, and go to the alley up for buying. Sometimes, when I would see a neighbor in the street or in the alley, I would jump with joy. I would stop and busy myself with talking them.
One afternoon, I had bought bread and was coming back to home. Women neighbors were standing in front of a house together and were busy talking. I looked very blue. After greeting I offered them to come to my house. “I spread a rug in the courtyard.” I said. “Also, I brew a tea and we’ll drink it together.” They accepted.
At the same time, a man with a broom under his arm and some books in his hand came running toward us. “You're from Haji Abad village?” he asked us. We look at each other and answered: “No.”
The man asked: “So, where are you come from?”
Samad had wanted me to be careful in associating with people and give no personal information to anyone. For this reason, I kept my wits about it and said nothing.
The man continuously asked: “Where is your home? What’s your husband job? Which village do you come from?” This state made me to insert the key into the lock and opened our house door. One of the women said: “Sir, you have a lot of questions, so why ask them us. Let me call my husband. He certainly can better guide you.”
Without saying goodbye or another question, the man went running as he heard these words. When he gained distance, the woman neighbor said: “Mrs. Ibrahimi! You saw how I spoiled his good mood. I lied to him. Nobody is in our home by chance.”
One of the women said: “I think he was looking for your husband. On behalf of hypocrites he had come and wanted to identify you to take revenge hypocrites whom your husband had arrested them.” Hearing these things, I got a fright. I was very worried about Samad. I would fear something happen for him again.
The man badly frightened all. So the women neighbors didn’t come to our home and went. I locked the door of our house. Even I locked the door of building and placed a stool behind it.
Samad came soon that night. “What happened?” he asked when he saw that state.
I told him the story. He smiled and said: “You women are so timid. It’s nothing. You fear with no reason.”
After dinner, Samad got readied to go out.
I asked: “Where do you go?”
He answered: “I’m going to go to Islamic Revolution Committee. Maybe I couldn’t come home a few days.”
I felt like crying. I begged: “May you don’t go?”
He said coolly: “No.”
I said: “I scare. What do you do, if that man and his gang come at midnight?”
First Samad joked about it, but when he understood that I’ve really scared, he gave me his colt revolver and said: “Use this, if a problem occurred.” Patiently he taught me then how to use it, and went out. I put it under my pillow and in fear and trembling lay down. It was midnight that a sound made me to wake up. Someone was ringing the doorbell. I took the colt revolver and went into the courtyard. Standing behind the door, I said several times “Who is this?” there was no answer. In fear and trembling I came back into the room, but again I heard the sound of doorbell. I didn’t know what to do. Like before, I stood behind the door and said “Who’s this?” several times. No one answered this time. This event repeated a few times. That is, the doorbell rang as I arrived to the room, and when I went behind the door, there was no answer. I was sure of someone wanted to bother us. I turned on all the lights because of fear. The last time I heard the sound of doorbell, I went up to the roof and made the colt revolver at the ready in the way Samad taught me. Two men had stood in the center of alley and were talking to each other. Surely they were the ones who rang. I fired upon them, but out of blue, I noticed that one of the men was our neighbor, Mr. Asgari whose wife was pregnant. I was so happy that I called him from there: “Mr. Asgari, is that you?” Then I went down and opened the door.
Mr. Asgari was a shy and modest man. He used to stand some step far from the door when he rang the doorbell. Because of this every time I would arrive behind the door, he wouldn’t hear my voice. He wanted me to help him. His wife was in labor.

To be continued…