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, ...

Da (Mother) 70

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

I remember one of the nurses giving me a hug and, with tears in her eyes, telling uncle and the rest about the events of the previous night. She said to me, “You made it unbearable for us last night. You threw yourself on his body and said, ‘For three months I had not seen Ali. I was thirsting for him, thirsting to see him.’ You spoke of the kids. Praised Ali. You showed me his hands.

Da (Mother) 69

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

I had no idea what to do. I wrestled with what to tell my parents. Finally I said to them, “Ali was jumping over a water channel and fell, breaking his arm.” But father would not let me finish telling them, “No, there’s no doubt the boy’s been killed. I heard that there was heavy fighting last night on the border.” With that he turned green and fainted. Mother, for her part, began to keen and go into her lamentations.

Da (Mother) 68

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The moon was out. The air smelled like gas. They covered up the hospital door and windows with sandbags so no light shone through the cracks. There was no noise, no sounds of traffic. After a few minutes, several nurses and workers showed up. A door opened and a ray of light escaped. I went to the door. It seemed they wanted to put the dead there. I went in and entered a large room with a floor and walls made of stone.

Da (Mother) 67

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The chaos and the psychological pressure I felt stopped me from going back to the Blazer. The din was horrible. The crying did not stop for a moment. At once dazed and frantic, I could neither cry nor stay calm, frantically looking for someone lost. If I found him, there would be true peace for me. With the arrival of the vans I helped load the wounded. I saw the Blazer move out with one of the vans.

Da (Mother) 66

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Ali, with all his injuries, had managed to get back to Khorramshahr. Even though no one expected him to fight, he had made a beeline for the front, leaving behind his magazine and a shirt as keepsakes. And there were other indications he was destined for martyrdom. As soon as I got to the Congregational Mosque I made a beeline for the things he had left for me on top of the armoire. I took them and went to a corner where I could be by myself.

Da (Mother) 65

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

I pulled myself together and said, “No, but I am pretty banged up.” The pain shot through my body, and I could not straighten my back. Water was gushing from one of the canisters that had overturned. I bent over and righted it. Half the water had spilled. I could not find the lid. One of the ammunition boxes, which had been open, was on its side and all it would have taken was one shell to send everyone to kingdom come.

Da (Mother) 64

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

In the early morning of the tenth day of the war word came that Iraqi tanks had advanced to Railroad Circle and the Slaughterhouse Circle. There was a fierce battle going on and the wounded they brought in by droves kept us extremely busy. I worked, but my mind was on other things. I was busy with bandaging and taping, but my eyes were fixed on the door. I had been expecting Ali since morning.
Part of memoirs of Seyed Hadi Khamenei

The Arab People Committee

Another event that happened in Khuzestan Province and I followed up was the Arab People Committee. One day, we were informed that the Arabs had set up a committee special for themselves. At that time, I had less information about the Arab People , but knew well that dividing the people into Arab and non-Arab was a harmful measure.
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.