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, ...

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.