Da (Mother) 130
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
I was hospitalized for about eight days, being injected twice a day with penicillin. Mohsen had no idea what had happened to me. I had told Habib I was coming to Abadan with Mohsen, but I wasn’t able to contact him for several days. Habib was responsible for a district in the city called Moharrezi.Da (Mother) 129
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
At the time we were in bad shape financially. The burden of supporting us as well as several other family members had fallen on Uncle Hoseyni’s shoulders. Meanwhile Jahan Ara had assigned several of the brothers from the army with the task of going to various cities and seeing to the martyr families.Da (Mother) 128
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Whenever Tehran got too much for me, I would go to the Molavi Camp and spend time with grandfather and Mimi. The folks at the camp were very decent to one another. People from Andishmak, Shush, Dezful, Khorramshahr, and villagers from places like Abbasabad, which was between Andishmak and Shush, were all spending their days in tents.Da (Mother) 127
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Although I never found Tehran a very agreeable place, for the longest time I was gripped by the idea of visiting Imam Khomeini, who lived in Jamaran in the northern part of the city. Leila, the Vatankhah sisters (Sabah, Saleheh, and Fowzieh), and I would set out at 6:00 a.m. every Monday and Thursday when the Imam held public audiences, which generally took place at 8:00 and 10:00 in the morning.Da (Mother) 126
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
The political situation in Tehran was unsettled. Every day the Hypocrites appeared at some new location to spread their propaganda, hold meetings, agitate, and debate their opponents. Unable to defend their views with logic, they used force and smacked their opponents’ silly. Laleh Park was one of their regular meeting places.Da (Mother) 125
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Abdollah didn’t remember any of it. I went over to his companions and asked them what was wrong with him. “He’s got amnesia from being hit in the head by shrapnel,” they said. I saw him several days later, but this time he remembered me not Leila. We visited Abdollah several times. Later I learned from his friends he had succumbed to the head wound.Da (Mother) 124
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
With Uncle Hoseyni and Mohsen gone, how to get lunch became a question. Mansur, Sa’id, and I went out to buy food. Not knowing the area, we went to the end of the avenue but didn’t find a shop or restaurant. We weren’t too sure about how wholesome the sandwiches sold on the street were. We turned back and went to Revolution Avenue.Da (Mother) 123
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Early one morning in December 1980, Uncle Hoseyni came by to bring Leila and me to Sar Bandar to buy chador material. He returned us to camp while he went to Mahshahr, where Mr. Bahramzadeh’s wife was to tailor chadors for us. During the last months we didn’t have the wherewithal to buy chadors. That night uncle returned with them and said, “Gather your things. We’re leaving first thing tomorrow.Da (Mother) 122
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
With money now in hand, I decided I’d better get a proper overcoat for myself. I went to a men’s tailor on Imam Hoseyn Square and ordered two overcoats: one in my size and a smaller, looser one for Leila. Leaving the tailor’s I realized I didn’t have a chance to have a chador made, so I returned to the shop and told him to make my overcoat loose-fitting.Da (Mother) 121
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
The guard asked what we were doing there and how we’d gotten a weapon. I showed him the gun permit Mr. Mohammadi had given me. He read it, and I explained why we were there. After a moment, he wished us Godspeed and left. My first thought was to go to the hospital they had mentioned at the camp. Unaware the name had been changed, I asked where the Misaqiyeh Hospital was and how to get there....
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The Doctor of fly, authored by Fatemeh Dehghan Niri, presents the memoirs of Dr. Mohammad-Taqi Khorsandi Ashtiani, Professor Emeritus and a subspecialist in Otolaryngology at Tehran University of Medical Sciences. Compiled within the framework of oral history, the work recounts different stages of his life—from childhood and years of ...The Beating Pulse of a Nation at the Moment of Nowruz
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I wanted to celebrate the new year with my family. Together with two relief workers I boarded buses designated for transporting the wounded to Choubideh and received our mission orders. We waited for a helicopter to take us to Bandar Imam Khomeini. I was stationed near the helicopter’s touchdown zone and was slight in build. As the helicopter was about to land, I could not steady myself; the breeze generated by the rotor blades lifted me off the ground.
