Da (Mother) 115
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra HoseyniSeyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Translated from the Persian with an Introduction by Paul Sprachman
2024-09-15
Da (Mother) 115
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
Translated from the Persian with an Introduction by Paul Sprachman
Persian Version (2008)
Sooreh Mehr Publishing House
English Version (2014)
Mazda Publishers
***
They ordered everyone off the jetty and told us to return before daybreak when the craft was rescheduled to leave for Abadan. Soldiers got into their vehicles and left the jetty. We were at a loss as what to do. When we saw the commandos and Yaddi, we asked them, “What should we do? They won’t let us stay here. We have no way to getting back, and even if we did, we couldn’t get back here soon enough.” They said, “That’s true. It won’t be long before daybreak. If you have to leave, why don’t you come to base with us?”
We stared at one another for a minute, debating whether to stay or go. Could we trust them? Where was their base? We didn’t know what to say. If we said we weren’t going, they’d conclude we didn’t trust them. Naturally they’d ask, “If you didn’t trust us, why did you ask us to get you passes in the first place?” If we didn’t go with these men, who had never done us any harm in the past, what were we going to do? We couldn’t go back to camp, but we couldn’t remain where we were. We debated what to do. One girl said, “Let’s go with them.” Another said, “We can’t. We don’t know these men.” I agreed with her. I said, “It’s true Yaddi is Maryam’s son-in-law, and we’ve never seen him do or say anything inappropriate, but we still don’t know him well enough. But how do we know staying here won’t be more of a problem for us?” Having guessed what we were talking about, the men said, “Do whatever you think is best. If you’d like us to give you a ride back to camp, fine. But we won’t be able to come and pick you up at the crack of dawn.”
In the end, we put our trust in the Lord and got in their pickup. Two of the men sat next to the driver, the other went in the back. As the truck drove through the empty darkness, I didn’t say a word but, fearful, took Leila’s hand. I was confident I could take care of myself if something happened, but I worried about Leila, who was younger and more vulnerable. I was concerned about the others, too. It seemed without knowing it I had taken responsibility for the group. As the spokesperson in so many of the conversations with officials when it came time to act, I was the one they turned to. I knew their hearts were pounding as hard as mine, but they wouldn’t let it show.
Each time the truck entered an alley my fears increased, but, when we joined the main road again, I relaxed. We finally entered a military encampment, and, immediately after clearing the guardhouse, I said to myself: For God’s sake, this is the same place where they almost hanged us! I whispered, “You see where we are, guys?”
“Yeah,” they said. “What are we going to do?”
“Nothing. We’ve no choice. We’ll just go in and answer any questions they have.” I sounded brave but inside I was afraid. To buck up my courage I told myself I was strong, and there was no reason to be afraid. But the words of those commandos when we had been in the building were still fresh in my mind: “You just wait. We’re going to hand you over to the desert court. They’ll try and execute the lot of you.”
The truck stopped and we got out. They ushered us into the same foyer as yesterday. Outside the building was dark and all its windows were blacked out. Yaddi went to speak to someone about allocating a private room to us. Then they led us to another hallway leading to four or five rooms. They opened the door to one of rooms, a large and tidy place furnished with a few beds. Yaddi said, “You can stay here. Lock the door from the inside. I’ll come and knock when it’s time to leave.”
Before he left he turned and said, “I’ll go and see if I can find some food for you.”
We were in the process of thanking him when the door to another room suddenly opened and two or three of the commandos from yesterday came out. Curious about what was going on, their eyes fell on us, and they asked Yaddi in surprise, “What are they doing here?”
“They’re supposed to come with us to Abadan,” Yaddi said. “Last night we had gotten underway in the hovercraft but it caught fire and we had to return. It may be possible to go again in the early hours, so we’re all gathered here waiting.”
It was irritating to hear him explain to them what had happened in such detail. In the meantime one of the commandos had gone back into their room. Several moments later their commander emerged along with the rest of the group from yesterday. They pulled Yaddi and his men aside and began talking to them in the hallway. Yaddi looked at us and said, “No. You’re wrong. They’re not antirevolutionary Hypocrites. We got to know them very well in Khorramshahr. The sisters have done all they could. They even went to the front lines. How could they be Hypocrites?” The commandos whispered something, and Yaddi and his men gave them a sharp reply. The girls and I stood at the door listening. I peeked out from time to time and saw them trying to get Yaddi to agree to something. Enraged now, he said, “That’s impossible! The sister you’re calling a Hypocrite buried her father and her brother with her own two hands!”
This just made me even angrier. I felt helpless as those men spread lies about me, but, at the same time, I was glad Yaddi and his men came to my defense. How can you just stand here, I asked myself, while they humiliate you? Then I spoke up, “Yaddi, if our being here is a problem for you, we’ll leave.”
The girls looked at me stunned and said, “Where are we going to go this time of night? What are you saying? In a couple of hours at most we’ll be off to Abadan!”
“We’ll just have to break our pledge to go to Abadan if it means having to put up with this rigmarole for a couple of hours.”
Yaddi said, “Don’t you worry. We’ll stay here and sort it out.”
“What,” I asked him, “is it you have to sort out?”
“It’s nothing,” he said.
“Why aren’t you talking face-to-face like men instead of hiding in a corner and whispering like that?”
One of the commandos from yesterday said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about! Keep you trap shut!”
Sabah, Ashraf, Leila, and Zohreh all spoke up, “Who are you to be telling us whether we can stay here or go? You call yourselves men, acting like somebody’s old aunt?”
A loud argument broke out again, bringing people out of their offices. Yaddi and his men stayed in the middle of things, telling people, “Quiet! Why are you shouting?” Everybody had something to say. The unfriendly commandos, knowing our sensitivities, dragged Imam Khomeini into it, slandering him again and making accusations against Ayatollah Beheshti. They seemed to think this was the right time to vent their feelings. One of the most serious charges was that the Imam caused the war.
“Why do you say that?” I asked. “You’ve been at the front. It’s obvious who started the war. It’s strange people like you who claim to be trained in Israel can say such things. What’s clear as day is that the revolution cooked America’s and Russia’s goose in Iran, so they got Saddam and the Baathists to make war on us.”
Their response to this was very weird. They thought so little of themselves they said, “Who are we that America would have Iraq make war on us?” This sort of defeatism and stupidity made my blood boil, and I said, “We knew the war didn’t break out over of the likes of you. The enemy invaded the Islamic Republic to destroy the Revolution!”
The commander bellowed, “Didn’t I tell you these people are saboteurs? Get your weapons. I’m going to hand them over to the military court.”
Men came running with weapons. Now most of the commandos were armed. The surliest of them drew his Colt and pointed it at me. I was very glad I had gotten his goat, because it hurt when he insulted the Imam. It did my heart good to see him enraged, and my indifference to his threats was now driving him mad. He said, “Orders for your execution have been issued. Now do you know who you’re dealing with?”
I looked at him. He was thirty-something years old with a brownish complexion. His hair was combed upward, and his heavily decorated chest swelled. He held his arms slightly away from his sides. This, it seems, was his way of asserting himself, bullying people with his fierce looks. I don’t know why his voice got louder with every stupid thing he uttered, but it only made him seem more pathetic to me. He told the underlings in the group, who had gathered around him, to take us to the wall and body search us. We all said, “Don’t you dare come near.
You’ve no right to lay a hand on us!”
We said this with such authority they started to argue among themselves. One of them said, “We’ve got to go back.” Another said, “Back off! This isn’t right.” As they argued, the commander said, “Go and start the bus.” One of them rushed out. They pointed their weapons at us and said, “Get going!” “What did we do?” we asked. Then we said to ourselves reassuringly, “We’ve done nothing we should be afraid of.
Let’s go and let them flounder the way they did yesterday.” Yaddi and his men were very agitated and offered to come with us, but the other men stopped them. As we got closer to the bus I could see the other girls were terrified. They were white as ghosts, like sparrows caught in the talons of eagles. When they saw Yaddi and his companions weren’t going to help, things got very serious. I was comforted by the thought we were standing up to their insults to the Imam, and that was what God would have wanted. I slowed down, letting the others catch up to me and said what I was thinking.
When we reached the bus, they said we’d have to turn around so they could bind our hands and blindfold us.
Horrified, Zohreh said heatedly, “Never! I won’t let you!” and she turned toward me. Things now had gone too far. I began to tremble all over. Then I yelled, “Are we the enemy to be treated like this? You’re worse than the Baathists! You have no right to lay a hand on us! Shoot us now, right here by the bus! But we’ll never let you come near us!”
Sabah and Ashraf also objected loudly, forcing the commandos to back off. We got on the bus one-by-one and sat in the back seats. We noticed Yaddi and his companions getting into their truck. I took advantage of the lull and whispered to Sabah, “They’re trying to break us so we’ll beg for mercy. Don’t back down. They have no idea what they’re doing.”
Having noticed us whispering, the commander barked, “Hey! What are you saying? Get up and move to the other side!” I didn’t listen, but he signaled to one of his men who came behind me and, pressing the barrel of his gun against the back of my neck, forced me to my feet. They had us all sit apart from one another. Ashraf, her blood now on a thorough boil, shouted, “What’s this?” She added sarcastically, “We’re your prisoners now?”
The bus started moving, and they began to taunt us again. We said nothing, wondering where they were taking us. I’ll never bring Leila with me again, I said to myself. We drove a long way in the darkness. My nerves were shot, and the pressures of hunger and lack of sleep were agonizing. The predicament was wearing me down badly. I couldn’t wait to be free of these madmen, even at the price of a hanging. But the more I thought about it, I was convinced these men had no evidence that would convict us of treason. We finally arrived wherever it was we were going. They let us out one-by-one and took us into a building. After pausing briefly in the hallway, they led us into a large room where several officers in camouflage uniforms and green berets were seated around a table. After we entered, the green berets told the commandos to wait outside. One of the officers, who appeared to outrank the rest, asked, “What’s the story here? What are these men talking about?”
We all started speaking at once, and the officer ordered, “One at a time!”
As usual I was the one to speak, “Ever since yesterday these gentlemen have been accusing us of being antirevolutionary Hypocrites and saying they want to try us.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Banisadr’s treachery is the issue here. These men are confused.”
This made them all sit up straight and look at one another. They said, “What are you talking about? Don’t you know Mr. Banisadr is the president and commander-in-chief?”
To be continued …
Number of Visits: 281
http://oral-history.ir/?page=post&id=12089