Memories of Narrator of the Book "The Most Beautiful Days of Life"; Seyyedeh Fawzia Madih

I Traded My Patience with God

Seyyedeh Pegah Rezazadeh
Translated by Ruhollah Golmoradi

2020-6-2

I was born in Khorramshahr and am one of the most resilient women in this city. I have witnessed and participated in the revolution, the Arab People's War, and the Resistance War in Khorramshahr. I want to start with Isfahani People Hosseinieh in Khorramshahr. We were a number of passionate and active young people who started our cultural activities in this city. At that time, villages were in a miserable condition in terms of cultural and financial situation. In any case, we tried to cover their situation in some way. After that, the war started in Khorramshahr. Like most people, we lived a normal life. The children had made their purchases for starting the education year, and they had to go to school tomorrow, when suddenly the city was trembled with a terrible sound. We did not have the necessary preparations to deal with such a serious matter, that to enter into a full-blown war. On the first day, on September 21, until 5 p.m., many people were martyred. We, the young people of that time, had already been active. We had passed a course in the city. We started military training for the people. We went to the imposed war, but most people were confused and didn't know what to do. At that time, I was a daughter of a twenty-one to two-year-old girl who, if they said one was dead, I would not even dare to approach that corpse ... let alone collect body of the martyr piece by piece by hand and take to Khorramshahr Cemetery!  Khorramshahr Cemetery, that is, Janatabad, with all its martyrs wasn’t believable for me. I couldn't believe that one day I would like to make the female martyrs full ablution there. Suddenly, I opened my eyes and saw that I was present among the wounded at the "3rd Khordad Hospital ", which was known as "Khombeh", and I did not know what to do. We did everything we could. Young girls at my age at the time were helping the wounded. There was a critical situation! ... Sometimes we were so upset that we screamed in the middle of the hospital. We collected sheets and tied wounds of the injured with them. We took the martyrs in ambulance and their body parts to morgue. In the first days of the imposed war, water and electricity in Khorramshahr were completely cut off. We gathered refrigerators and freezers and took them from the houses to the Khorramshahr Grand Mosque. From the first day of the imposed war, there was no market to buy! The warriors were now just children and people of the city. In the early days of the war, there were guys of the city who resisted. There was a barracks in Khorramshahr called "Dej (bastion)", which was closed. Guys of the city opened the door and maneuvered with a few worn-out tanks in the city; Just for that Iraqis would realize that we also have, although a small amount and at the extent of our capability, troops and ammunition, and we are not empty-handed so much! For example, lest the field be empty and they abuse! We passed the first 35 days of resistance in this way. At that time, Abolhassan Bani-Sadr, the then president, came to Khorramshahr. He witnessed situation of the city burning in the fire. Khorramshahr was falling. He was told to send ammunition to Khorramshahr. But surprisingly, we were confronted with the sentence, "are helicopter and ammunition Noghl and candy that we should send to you?!" For this reason, the guy themselves even took up empty guns in the city, so that, for example, in our opinion, the enemy would understand that there are some forces in the city. These actions, however, were of no use; Believe me, Khorramshahr remained in the same way for 35 days -which of course I say 45 days. Otherwise, the city would have completely collapsed in the very first days. Even when Khorramshahr was falling, people did not like to leave the city. If we want to be a little more realistic, we have to confess that they didn't have a place to go. At that time, Imamzadeh "Seyyed Abbas" in Abadan was famous. We took those who could not move or could not leave the city to this shrine. I was in charge of preparing food and water there. People had to evacuate Khorramshahr much sooner than you could imagine. But this situation did not last long and we did not stand out there too. Some were told you should go! They also answered straightforward and told the truth that we don't even know the way!  Khorramshahr-Ahwaz road was closed and soon fell into hands of Ba'athist forces.  Abadan-Mahshahr road was also closed, leaving no other road open around there. There was only one dirt road through which we left Abadan. I announced that I was ready to lead the people to go out of the area. My mother, elder sister, and younger sister, who was no more than six years old, were also with me. In the middle of the road, at 4:30 a.m., we did the morning prayer. As we exited the road, we saw Ba'athist air forces overhead moving toward Khorramshahr to bomb it. The road was dirt. Sometimes we didn't know which way we went. In fact, we have learned through Iraqi MIGs that we were moving towards Iraq. Finally, we deviated our path and finally left Abadan dirt road. In the evening, we reached Mahshahr Road and unloaded some people. Let me go back to the beginning of my speech and talk about my martyr, “Mansour Goli”. He was a twenty-three to four years old, with true piety and faith, and fulfilled night pray. Even during the journey, his night prayer would not be abandoned. He loved Komeil Prayer and always whispered it and dropped tear. He used to read. Believe me, one of my goals in narrating the book "The Most Beautiful Days of Life" was to be able to fully describe his character so that he would be last forever. In a word, my Mansour had a divine character. I don't want to talk platitude and say, for example, that his behavior and actions were sacred. But it was. Words are unable and I can't use other words ... I had no doubt in his faith, and his pure intent and nature, and I still do not. From the beginning, he liked that our wedlock to be done as soon as possible. Our families initially objected to this union. Honestly, martyr "Mohammad Jahanara" mediated our families for this union before his martyrdom. Despite all these ups and downs, our families still did not agree. Finally, after two years, they agreed to our marriage. At the same time, martyr Jahanara promised to give Mansour five days off for our wedding without celebration. Of course, Mansour's family was unaware of this marriage. As soon as Mansour came to court, he was confronted with opposition of his family and so-called closed door. One day, however, he decided to propose me lonely. He was involved in the operation at the time, and immediately after the operation, he proposed me in the same dirt uniform. We went to Shiraz with my family when Khorramshahr fell. In short, he came to Shiraz to propose and believe me, I don't know if it was divine wisdom or destiny or something that was written in the stars or whatever you call it ... they finally agreed with him. Our pure love made us live under one shelter. In fact, our life began in the same city of Shiraz. I well remember that when Mansour came to propose to me, it was Muharram and Ayatollah Tabatabai had died. Three days of public mourning was announced. At the same time, my grandfather also died and we were mournful. We were very involved in that what to do in Muharram. The Friday Imam of Shiraz at that time was Ayatollah Dastgheib, who had not yet been martyred. Mansour said I go to get permission from him.  Mansour did not have a leave in Muharram and he had to return to the area soon. He was in a hurry, now that the families are agreed, the marriage would be conducted as soon as possible so that he could return to the area with me. When he told Ayatollah Dastgheib, he ordered that not only our marriage was free of fault but it is also Mustahabb. The Friday Imam of Shiraz said that he was scheduled to travel the next day, but told his son, “Ayatollah Seyyed Mohammad Dastgheib”, that go to the mosque tomorrow night after Maghrib and Isha prayers to deliver wedding sermon. So it was. I told Mansour if he didn't want to inform his family. He replied that he did not have opportunity to do so, and that if he waited for his family to come, his family might give up. Anyway, we got married and left for Isfahan the next day. Mansour's family was in Isfahan. We arrived in Isfahan. We got in the car to go to their house. We saw his father that returned. He also saw me and said, "What have you done, Mansour?" He also said just in a word that “I stole her," His father said in surprise, “Did you really do that? Did you steal her and come to Isfahan?" he said without pause, “Yes". They laughed and we went home. His mother saw us and froze, slapped her face and said with the same strong and sweet Isfahani accent that did you steal her?! Mansour, did you do your job?! Mansour also replied: "Mother! She’s your bride. Hug and kiss her!” This short story was story of our marriage. We weren't with together for more than about five or six months. After that, Operation Beit-ol Moqaddas was begun, and Mansour planned to join the operation. Believe me, these five or six months of our lives were full of mercy, and in a word, it was a heaven life! I can't explain in a few moments and in this short time what happened to us. During this time, we lived in the war zone of Abadan under enemy fire and mortars and bullets. All the events that happened to us are presented in the book "The Most Beautiful Days of Life" and the audience can refer to this book. One day he came to me without pause and said, "Collect my bag and I want to go to the operation." Whenever an operation took place, the enemy would hit Abadan savagely and madly, and the city would be under fire of Ba'athists. When we were living in Abadan, I slept in hijab on nights of operations. It was not clear whether we would survive at all! Because of start of Operation Beit-ol Moqaddas, we were taken from Khorramshahr to Ahvaz to liberate Khorramshahr, which was a large-scale operation. He followed me like a child when I was packing his bag. As if he knew what was going to happen and he was somehow inspired to spend the last days of his life and moment of our separation is near. As I bent down to pick up the tools, I saw his hand. Wherever I wanted to walk, I could feel his footsteps behind me. Every room that I entered he came behind me. I think he was very anxious, but at the same time he was very calm. God had wanted Mansour. Just like the other martyrs who are truly martyred and God want them. Let's listen to families of the martyrs for a moment. When you ask most of them what kind of person your martyr was and what his personality was and how he behaved, most of them would say he was exemplary in all respects and moral between all his brothers and sisters. Believe me, some would say he was the smart kid in our family. Everyone loved him, and from these words ... is it supposed to be something different? My Mansour was also the same. I believe that God selects martyrs and raises them in his own garden, grow them until its time when he picked them up with his own hands and takes them to himself. Apart from this belief, I cannot say anything else about Mansour. We said each other goodbye sadly. I have described these events and narratives in my book moment by moment. Mansour left me with my broken heart and in hardship and seeing my suffering. He went to the operation area and I went to Ahvaz with other friends who lived in Abadan. From the very beginning, I waited for the operation moment by moment. Operation Beit-ol Moqaddas had four stages. In the third phase, we were informed that several of Mansour's comrades were injured. We were supposed to go to Shushtar and inform their families. Upon our return from Shushtar, we learned that Mansour and a number of other fighters had been wounded and several had been martyred. On the night of his martyrdom, I dreamed and woke up with severe stomach ache and could not sleep. Even when they said that Mansour was injured, I did not accept and said that he has been martyred. I went to Abadan. On the way to Abadan, I was told that Mansour had been hospitalized in Abadan Oil Company Hospital. Of course, the road from Ahvaz to Abadan was cut to parts, and each part was passed with some equipment we made for ourselves. When I arrived in Abadan, my brother welcomed me. On the way to the hospital, I asked him to tell me the truth. I told him to tell me so that I would know that Mansour was really injured or martyred. At first I heard again that he was injured. My brother said we would go to the hospital and you find out.  I insisted him to tell the truth. I said frankly that my heart testified that Mansour has been martyred. My brother took the opportunity and said, "Then listen to your heart!" During walking that my brother was walking, I got a blackout and I only saw darkness. I became silent. I had fasted in silence. Mansour had said that if one day I was martyred I would not want you to cry at all! I want you to be patient like Hazrat Zainab ^)PBUH) and be like her who walked over lifeless and separated body of Imam Hussein^(PBUH) and 72 of his companions and was patient. My dear Mansour's body was in the desert for three days and was lost for a day and a half. Nobody knew where it was! After that, they found out that his body had been taken to Mashhad by mistake. In holy city of Mashhad, Mansour's body was pilgrimaged and finally returned. Mansour always liked that we go on a pilgrimage to Mashhad together when the operation was over. Now he himself had gone earlier than me and Imam Reza^)AS) had accepted him earlier than me and maybe he was my vice-pilgrim! These are all life lessons for me. I have to say about Abadan and Khorramshahr. I'm told why you named your book "The Most Beautiful Days of Life"! Isn't it the days of war and displacement, hardships and wandering, nostalgia, sorrows and martyrdoms?! As a supplement, I would like to answer that although it was bitter and difficult to bear in those days, I traded patience and forbearance with God. As Hazrat Zainab^(PBUH) dealt with God and was patient.[1]