Da (Mother) 80

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The first place we went was the Mosaddeq Hospital. It was deserted. It had been hit once or twice during the heavy bombardment of the bridge and the municipality. When I entered, it seemed abandoned. I tried to find Abdollah, and they told me they were no longer admitting patients and were about to move the ones already there.

Da (Mother) 79

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Delivering messages was the major’s almost daily task. I had seen him around. He was a military man around thirty or so with fatigue written all over his wheatish face. There was a nobility and seriousness about him that invited people’s respect. Ordinarily he started each day with enthusiastic pep talks to the troops, calling on them to listen to Imam Khomeini and resist the enemy.

Da (Mother) 78

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Sheikh Sharif Qonuti, the same priest who had given his cloak to Maryam Amjadi, was the only one who thought it was necessary for women to be in the city, as they were vital to getting things done behind the lines. The day after we left the mosque to set up the clinic, another message came demanding women evacuate.

Da (Mother) 77

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Then he ran toward the hospital and dove into some box trees behind a metal railing. The soldier, whose name was Abdol Reza, made me angry. He and his friend Nemat were at father’s burial. They came by Jannatabad often. Although they were friends and came from the same town, Abdol Reza and Nemat could not have been more different.

Da (Mother) 76

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

After the death of Ali, almost all my memories faded. Thoughts of Ali occupied my mind so much that my attention to other things dwindled to nothing. Time and space collapsed for me. I went on working out of habit. This is why my memory of many things is not that reliable. Time erased many of the events. I was like a sleeper who awakes from a dream with a start and only remembers a few things about it.

Da (Mother) 75

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

A weight had been lifted and the fires raging in me had cooled somewhat. I was certain that had Zeynab not done what she had, I would have gone mad. She was a true comfort to me. Even mother couldn’t have improved on what Zeynab had done for me. Mother needed someone to lean on herself. I was certain she didn’t understand me. I was sure the news of Ali’s passing would so upset mother she’d

Da (Mother) 74

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

It was the morning of October 5, 1980. I went with Hoseyn Eidi and Abdollah Mo’avi to the Congregational Mosque. We got some bread and cheese and returned to Jannatabad. On the way we were passing Islamic Republic Lane when I had the idea of looking in at Darya Bod Rasayi School. I said to Hoseyn and Abdollah, “Let’s visit the place and see what’s happening.” They agreed and we turned into the lane.

Da (Mother) 73

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Leila looked at me with a hurt and questioning expression, as if to say, “Aren’t I part of the family, too?” I went but I didn’t stay long. I had a good cry, said my peace, and got up. I knew we had to move to the new clinic. Even though I had hurried back, when I got to the Congregational Mosque there was no one at the infirmary. They had gathered up the curtains and equipment and took them to the new place.

Da (Mother) 72

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Still crying uncontrollably, uncle didn’t stop kissing me, kissing my hands, and saying, “Get up. Let’s go. I can’t take more of this. I’m begging you, let’s go.” As I rose to leave, a van pulled up with five or six Iraqi dead. Two of them were burnt badly and deformed. One of the boys in the van seemed to know me (how I don’t know) and said, “Sister Hoseyni, rejoice! Your Ali did not die for nothing.

Da (Mother) 71

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

As we neared the grave, Ali’s words to mother when she asked him about his marriage echoed in my mind: “My wedding day will be the day I’m martyred. My first night with my bride will be in the grave. My blood will be my wedding henna.” Although these words set fire to mother’s soul, he was sincere. The memory made the moments I spent by his grave unbearable. Then again, when I realized they were the best moments in Ali’s life, ...
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Book Review

Kak-e Khak

The book “Kak-e Khak” is the narration of Mohammad Reza Ahmadi (Haj Habib), a commander in Kurdistan fronts. It has been published by Sarv-e Sorkh Publications in 500 copies in spring of 1400 (2022) and in 574 pages. Fatemeh Ghanbari has edited the book and the interview was conducted with the cooperation of Hossein Zahmatkesh.

Is oral history the words of people who have not been seen?

Some are of the view that oral history is useful because it is the words of people who have not been seen. It is meant by people who have not been seen, those who have not had any title or position. If we look at oral history from this point of view, it will be objected why the oral memories of famous people such as revolutionary leaders or war commanders are compiled.

Daily Notes of a Mother

Memories of Ashraf-al Sadat Sistani
They bring Javad's body in front of the house. His mother comes forward and says to lay him down and recite Ziarat Warith. His uncle recites Ziarat and then tells take him to the mosque which is in the middle of the street and pray the funeral prayer (Ṣalāt al-Janāzah) so that those who do not know what the funeral prayer is to learn it.

A Critique on Oral history of War Commanders

“Answering Historical Questions and Ambiguities Instead of Individual-Organizational Identification”
“Oral history of Commanders” is reviewed with the assumption that in the field of war historiography, applying this method is narrated in an advancing “new” way, with the aim of war historiography, emphasizing role of commanders in creation of its situations and details.