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.Da (Mother) 120
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
First, we suggested the man’s mother, who was standing by the ambulance, but she seemed incapable. Though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I volunteered. I would never have forgiven myself if the woman had died giving birth. Once inside the ambulance, I noticed the woman was very distressed to have a man see her naked.Da (Mother) 119
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
The clinic was nearly at the end of the main road of the camp. It was actually a shipping container, ten by five meters—perhaps more—with a bluish tile roof. The walls were painted white inside and out. The container was divided into two rooms. The larger of the two was also divided in two; on one side was an examination room and on the other a room with two beds used temporarily for patients.Da (Mother) 118
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Leaving the helicopter, we saw water on one side of us, and a desert flat with a road running down the middle on the other. Launches were moored by the shore where many people were waiting to board them. They were carrying as many of their household belongings as they could. Most were from families that had already been evacuated but had returned to rescue their possessions from the fires and falling debris.Da (Mother) 117
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
We were about to start out on the road to camp when a jeep showed up with the same commandos, thirsting for our blood. They were just as stunned to see us as we were to see them. They pulled up, blocking our way and, asking nobody in particular, “How come they’re out?” One of them asked, “What are you doing here? Didn’t we hand you over last night?”1
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Memoirs of Seyyed Nouraddin AfiIt was early October 1982, just two or three days before the commencement of the operation. A few of the lads, including Karim and Mahmoud Sattari—the two brothers—as well as my own brother Seyyed Sadegh, came over and said, "Come on, let's head towards the water." It was the first days of autumn, and the air was beginning to cool, but I didn’t decline their invitation and set off with them.
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The interviewer is the best compiler
According to Oral History Website, Dr. Morteza Rasoulipour in the framework of four online sessions described the topic “Compilation in Oral History” in the second half of the month of Mordad (August 2024). It has been organized by the Iranian History Association. In continuation, a selection of the teaching will be retold:An Excerpt from the Narratives of Andimeshk Women on Washing Clothes During the Sacred Defense