Daughter of Sheena 54

2015-10-27

Daughter of Sheena-54

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

Chapter Seventeen

The year of 1365 was a difficult year. I was the mother of five little kids at Twenty-four. I couldn’t deal with all my works single-handed. The war had reached to critical points. Samad had been involved in war and successive operations. Khadija was in the second year of primary school. Masumah was in the first year. I could go to Qayesh fewer because of my kid’s schooling. My father also couldn’t drop in on us because of Sheena’s illness. My sisters were as busy as bee in their own lives and children’s issues. Like Samad’s brothers, my brothers had been involved with war. Most of the time, I woke up in the morning and worked until ten or eleven at night; so I had become impatient and moody, and always I was exhausted.

Operation Karbala-4 began in the Dey of that year. I had heard from my brothers that Samad has taken part in it and commanded. For no operation I was so impatient and worried but this one. I went aimlessly from room to room, since I woke up in the morning. Rosary in my hand, sometimes I sat on my prayer rug and prayed for hours. From morning till night, on the niche, the radio was on and reported the news of operations.

My mother-in-law had come to our house a few days ago. She was very nervous and worried like me. From morning to night, she just said O Sattar, O Samad.

One afternoon, as we both were sitting sad and bored in the room, heard someone knocks. Children ran toward the door and opened it. It was Mr. Shamsollah. He had come from the front, but was unhappy and glum. I thought that certainly something has happened for Samad. My mother-in-law was crying and begging: “If anything is wrong, please tell us too.” Mr. Shamsollah gestured me to go to the kitchen. In excuse of making tea, I went to kitchen and he followed me. He gently and slowly said, so that my mother-in-law doesn’t hear: “Mrs. Qadamkhyr! See what I say. Just don’t scream and make a fuss. Be careful Mom does not know.”

My hands and feet had frozen. All my body was shaking. I leaned to the refrigerator and moaned: “O Hazrat Abbas! Something has happened for Samad?”

Mr. Shamsollah had choked up. Flushed, he slowly and interrupted said: “Sattar has martyred.”

I felt kitchen was spinning around. I put my hand on my head. Didn’t know what to say, I bit my lips. I could only ask: “When?”

Mr. Shamsollah wiped his tears and said: “for God's sake don’t do anything that my Mom finds out.”

Then he said: “a few days ago. By hook or crook, we must take her to Qayesh.”

Then he went out of the kitchen. I did not know what to do. In excuse for brewing tea, I stayed in the kitchen and cried as far as I could. I did everything, but couldn’t stop my crying. Mr. Shamsollah called me from hall. Under the tap of sink, I washed my face and dried it by my Chador. Then I poured some tea into cups and went into the hall. Mr. Shamsollah had sat next to my mother-in-law and stared at TV. “I want to go to Qayesh to visit my friends and families. Don’t you come with me?” he said, as saw me.

I knew it is a plot. So I said soon: “How nice! It’s very long time that I want to come along my HajAgha. I’ve missed Sheena too. She has become very impatient since her stroke. They say she often expressed her nostalgia for seeing us. I come with you and will stay there a couple of days, and then I'll return.”

Then, swiftly, I busied collecting some clothes for kids and packing my hold-all. Also I took a black dress and said: “I'm ready.”

All the way, in the car, I thought of Sediqeh. I didn’t know how to look into her eyes. I filled with pity for her children. On the other hand, I couldn’t say anything in front of my mother-in-law. Bottling grieves up, I felt being choked.

Reaching to Qayesh, I saw the condition is not as usual; as if all people heard about it, except us. They covered walls with black cloths. Seeing them, my mother-in-law had panicked and asked in tandem: “What's wrong? Anything has happened for my sons?”

My heart sank when we arrived in front of my mother-in-law’s house. The house door was open and black-dressed men would come and go. My poor mother-in-law had realized what had happened. “Don’t worry. Maybe someone in the family has passed away.” I consoled her and said.

As if she was waiting for a long time, Sediqeh ran toward us as soon as we entered into courtyard. She threw herself into my arms and began to cry. She would sob and say: “Qadamkhyr! Now how I raise my Somayeh and Leila?”

Her daughter, Somayeh, who was two years old - at the same age of my Somayeh – had stood next to us and looked at her mother perplexed. Leila was just six months years old. My mother-in-law now had understood everything, collapsed by the door. Later, it was like the whole village heard about it. Courtyard was crowded. Women condoled to my mother-in-law, accompanied by her they cried, and tried to comfort her.