Daughter of Sheena (32)

Behnaz Zarrabizadeh

Daughter of Sheena-32
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

The next day Samad took us to Qayesh and he himself returned to the front. My babies and I stayed in Qayesh for one month. It was winter and a lot of snow had fallen. A few days after we returned to Hamadan, it got colder and snowed again. I was happy that when Samad had signed the lease, shifted shoveling snow on the roof onto landlord shoulder.
On that cold and snowy weather I had many guests from Qayesh who wanted to go to Kermanshah. After dinner I found out that we had not any bread for breakfast. Early in the morning I got up and went to a bakery. It was very crowded, people had lined up from inside the bakery out to alley. It was very cold. I had no choice. I queued in a not-crowded line that was formed for ones who wanted to buy just two pieces of bread. However, I waited ten minutes until it was my turn. I bought the bread. Then I saw a woman has queued at the end of the line. I told her: “Madam, please keep my turn in the line, I have to go home, but I’ll come back soon.” On the way home, I slipped and fell on the snow several times. Reaching home, I saw that guests have awakened. I put breads into the spread, brewed tea and brought cheese out of the refrigerator. Again, I ran toward bakery. Reaching there, I saw that the woman isn’t. I got upset. “I’d taken a turn here,” I said to someone who had stood in the line, “Just ten minutes ago I was here and bought two breads and went home.” Women thought I wanted to buy bread out of turn. Some of them began to swear and quarrel. One of them gave me a push with her hand; if I had not clutched at wall, I would fall on the ground. Suddenly I saw that woman. A red basket was in her hand. Happily I said: “Madam ... Madam ... do you remember I was behind you in the line?” She smiled and pointed me to go forward. It was as happy as the day is long. Women, who saw this situation, reluctantly opened the way up for me to go forward. To this day, whenever I see a red basket, still remember that woman and the memory of that day.

Day by day it got colder. Snow on the ground had been frozen. There was less traffic on the rural roads, so no one would come to Hamadan from Qayesh. In the meantime, my landlord would watch over me very much. Whenever that he would go to shopping, he would buy something for us too; however, I wouldn’t accept it or pay him one way or another. I did not like to be under an obligation, or they think that I was a poor person in my husband’s absence. Because of these matters, I would work more than my vigor. The temperature had been reached to forty two or forty three degrees below zero. There was not enough oil for warming houses. Because of not getting cold, I would dress babies with parka and hat in the house. Going to bring some oil for heater one morning, I found that our oil containers have almost been empty. The babies were asleep. Taking our twenty liters oil containers, I went to the shop in which oil was sold. It was up street and far from our house. People had been formed a line in front of it; in fact, oil containers were connected by a rope, so everyone buy their oil in turn. I laid down my ones in the line and waited. Oil had not been still delivered to the shop. After half an hour I stayed there, the coldness began coming up from my feet finger; so that my teeth would gnash. Finally I couldn’t stand. Therefore, I came back home, wore several socks and sweaters, and returned. Babies were at home and nobody was looking after them, so I returned home four or five times until noon. It was afternoon when oil was delivered to the shop. I waited another one hour and then it was my turn to buy oil. Those days, some people would work in oil shops called Charkhis. They would carry people’s oil containers by a hand-cart and took them to their house. By mere chance, there was no Charkhi in the shop that day. I put one of oil containers in the shop, lifted up hardly another one with my two hands, and moved toward our house panting. At the beginning I laid it down every ten or twenty steps and caught my breath; but at the end of the way I stopped every five steps. I massaged my fingers which had been numb, cupped them and blew warm air from my mouth to warm them. With such hardness I brought the first oil container to our house and placed it under the staircase of first floor. It became harder when I wanted to go to bring the second one. I didn’t have any strength when I carried the oil container and brought it out of the shop. I was freezing, but I had to take it to house one way or another. On the one hand, I was very worried about my babies and on the other hand, I didn’t have any energy to walk. Anyway… finally, I reached home. Now, taking the oil container up to the second floor was very hard. I did not want our landlord to find out and come to help me. Therefore, I brought one of them slowly and silently up the stairs and came half an hour later for bringing the second one. Almost I was losing my consciousness. I lay down at the center of hall dead tired. Khadija and Masumah were happily playing around me, but I was so tired and my limbs and waist were in pain that I couldn’t even laugh on them. I prayed that they sleep, so that I could rest; but babies were hungry and I had to get up and cook dinner.

To be continued…