Da (Mother) 15

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The woman was in tears and said, “I do not have anything. You see how I am dressed.” I said, “No problem,” and covered the little girl with a corner of the blanket. The woman seemed to be paying attention to me, but her crying and moans made me speak more directly. “If you go on this way, you’ll make it worse for the child. You have got to get yourself under control first and then try to calm the child.”

Da (Mother) 14

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

On September 22, 1980, we expected the next day to be like any other, with the kids going to school: Sa’id to first grade, Hasan to second, and Mansur to the first year of middle school. Father had given us money a few days before to buy school supplies for them. I took the boys myself to the Darvazeh traffic circle and bought—as much as our budget would allow—what they needed.

Da (Mother) 13

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The next day I saw to Alis pack, as I normally did. There were some bloodstained clothes and a pair of boots in it. I pulled the clothes out, washed them, and hung them to dry on the clothesline. A couple of hours later, Ali returned. As soon as he saw the clothes on the line, he let out a deep sigh and said testily, “Why did you touch those clothes?

Da (Mother) 12

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Ali was rarely at home after the victory of the revolution. He joined the Civilian Construction Corps to help in farming and the development of villages in deprived regions. Many nights he went on public safety patrols and didn’t return until morning. Not many months had passed after the revolution when word spread in the town that some of the heads of the Arab clans wanted independence from Iran. These were the same people who collaborated with SAVAK before the ...

Da (Mother) 11

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Whenever father had to go somewhere else to work, he had let Ali take his place, knowing that his son was disciplined enough to carry out any task he gave him. And the older he got, the more difficult were the jobs he took on. Working beside father, Ali gradually learned construction, plumbing, and welding. His eyes became bloodshot from the welding, and the pain would keep him awake all night. But, by the time he was eighteen, he was a master welder and mason.

Da (Mother) 10

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Ali, who had witnessed all this strife as a child, was the first of us to go to work. In the dead of summer or in winter when it got cooler, he would sell gum to people at the gas station (famous as Dieselabad) on the Ahvaz-Khorramshahr road. He would also sell corn on the cob roasted over a fire. One day I insisted he take me with him so I could see how he did it. I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Da (Mother) 9

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

With school over we moved and got away from our nasty landlord. Then began a period of going from one house to another every so often in the Shahabad neighborhood. Each place had its advantages and disadvantages; we had no choice but to take the good with the bad. One place had a good landlord who looked out for us, while another had a nasty one who would do things to annoy us.

Da (Mother) 8

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

On that day our next-door neighbors were having a circumcision ceremony. Mohsen went up on the roof to watch. I was busy playing with Mansur in the room when I heard Leila shrieking, “Zahra come quickly, Mohsens dead!” I thought that she was kidding, but when she swore on Uncle Hoseynis life, I did not know what I was going to do with the baby but I raced into the courtyard just the same.

Da (Mother) 7

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

We got to Iranian customs at evening prayer time. Uncle Hoseyni came to look after us. It took a little time to go through customs and immigration. Father was waiting outside the customs area. It had been months since we last saw him. At first we shied away from him, but soon we went toward him. He hugged and kissed each of us, as tears rolled down his cheeks. Then we went to Uncle Hoseynis house.

Da (Mother) 6

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Mother did everything she could to get permission to visit father in prison. She made daily trips to various government offices, only to return fed up and tired, telling grandfather and mothers Aunt Mimi where she had been and to whom she had spoken. Ali and I would be all ears when they talked, and, after mother had spoken to grandfather and Mimi, we nagged and nagged her about seeing father.

Memories of Ayatollah Jami from Destruction of Abadan

It is Friday. In the last day, they bombarded the city heavily by Katyusha. Especially the hospital was under fire and the pharmacy of the hospital was set on fire, the drugs were all around and behind the hospital. It’s clear that there is some worry for holding prayer; But what should you do when there is no safe place in all of Abadan that is safe from cannon balls and mortars. Either one should leave the prayer altogether or ...

A Piece of the War Diary; Ayatollah Jami

After crossing the bridge of Station 12, we went a few kilometers in the groves, which are all near to Bahmanshir River. We saw a huge mud bridge that connects the two sides of the river; it also became clear that it was built by brothers in Isfahan Jihad during the war. And how strong and good it had been built that the car can pass easily. By observing these scenes, ...
Book Review:

“Mother of Iran”

Esmat Ahmadian Oral Memories, Mother of Martyrs Esmail and Ibrahim Farjavani
In the absolute whiteness of the cover background, it seems the title “Mother of Iran” get its green color from the leafy ivys branch which is suspended in the air, or in better words, by its inky letters, it gives life to the plant to connect the sky; like a martyr who ascends. Such an interpretation with the shocking text on the back of the book leads to notice deeper roots:

After Years of Captivity

Memoirs of Manijeh Lashkari
It was the month of Muharram of 1374 (June 1995). When I woke up on the day of Ashura, I saw that Ali was not at home. He had said that he would go to the Heyat (mourning group). I was walking inside the house without any motivation. I went and opened the fridge, poured a glass of milk, and drank half of it. I left the glass on the cabinet, went to the closet and got dressed.