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?”
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Memoirs of Batool Borhaneshkouri

Wife of Martyr Mohammad Javad Tondgooyan
She stirred the food and tasted it. Everything was ready. She turned off the stove. She took out cucumber, lettuce, and tomato from the refrigerator and placed them next to the salad bowl, then got busy making the salad. This afternoon, Somayeh-Hoda and Youssef were coming for lunch, and she had cooked Youssef’s favorite dish.

Destiny Had It So

Memoirs of Seyyed Nouraddin Afi
It 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.
Oral History School – 7

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

The Last Day of Summer, 1980

We had livestock. We would move between summer and winter pastures. I was alone in managing everything: tending to the herd and overseeing my children’s education. I purchased a house in the city for the children and hired a shepherd to watch over the animals, bringing them near the Karkheh River. Alongside other herders, we pitched tents.