Memoirs of Marzieh Hadidchi (Part 3)

2017-08-08

Memoirs of Marzieh Hadidchi (Dabbagh)

Edited by: Mohsen Kazemi

Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company

‎2002 (Persian Version)‎

Translated by: Zahra Hosseinian

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Chapter 1

Sarayaan

Birth and family

In the last days of spring of 1939, I was born in Imamzadeh Abdollah neighborhood in the historical city of Hamedan and grew up in a religious and cultural family. From the first days of life, my childish crying as the second child of the family was a matter of concern. And it might have been announcing the winding and up and down ways of my future life, and also a fluid and restless spirit which searching for the truth.

My father, the late Ali Pasha Hadidchi, was of well-known learned men in the city and the cause of our family boasting. His great father, the late Sheikh Muhammad Hadidchi, was also a mystic of his time and disciples gathered around him. Following his father's procedure, my father held debate meetings with the young people of neighborhood and family members. In addition to high-level education in Islamic seminary, he also was educated classically up to the sixth grade. He earned a livelihood in Hamedan by selling paper and books; and was a methodical person in his work and life. Despite the lack of communications and correspondence in time and place conditions of those days, my father tried to get more books and publications and to hand over them to the applicants after studying. He enjoyed the old sciences and knowledge of the day and had a fairly good level of literacy and information, and his family and friends also benefited from his discipline and plans and studies.

My father has been able to provide a modest living for himself and his family with selling books. His bookstore was the center of people's attraction and it was a place for solving their problems. After a few years in peace, big problems including bankruptcy, forced my father to shut down his store. He went to the holy city of Mashhad to live and began to work in a shop as an errand. But after a short time, he returned to Tehran and became a sales supervisor in a factory.

My mother, Fatima Ahmadi, was a believer and lover of Ahl al-Bayt (AS), who raised her seven children with patience and tolerance[1]. And we were saturated in her love and affection. At that time, she was the only woman in the neighborhood who enjoyed the Quranic literacy and read books and newspapers. My mother had taught Quranic teachings in her mother’s Quran class. My mother's literacy and knowledge led to her reputation, and like her mother, held Quranic meetings in the house.

 

The Allied Powers and Muawiyah’s Kid (young goat)

What I have remembered from my childhood and naughtiness, is the arrival of Allied forces during the World War II in the city of Hamedan, which was along with bitter tragedies, miseries, and experiences.

The arrival of these uninvited forces drove the city into anxiety and worries; concerns about sacking people’s property and giving offence to their lives, the poor but honorable and devout people who were worried about their pride and dignity were in the quest for the opportunity to escape from this dilemma.

One day before sunset, my father came back home and asked his family and the neighbors’ women and children to go to one of the gardens around the city after taking their valuable jewelry and precious items.

When we all gathered in a garden outside the city, my father, before night, collected all the jewelries and hid them in the nest of a crow over a high tree. When the sun was setting and it was darkening women and children were taken to a small room inside the garden which was called ‘Keely’, and men slept on the threshold of ‘Keely’.

Our life went on in this way for a long time, until the situation slowly became normal and people appeared in the alleys and streets of the city and returned to their usual lives. Poverty, suffocation, fear, and anxiety, of course, had shadowed over their life and no family had the courage to live alone. Usually, several families gathered and spent the night and day together, so that they could help each other if an incident occurred.

The Allied forces rode around in the streets and alleys of city, so that they oversaw all creatures. They patrolled in narrow streets with Jeep cars and dominated the city. I recall that all the children escaped and hid in a corner when saw their cars, but I approached and stood beside them with a childish curiosity, though I was a little girl. Sometimes, my sister encouraged me to take biscuit, chocolate and something like that from them and then shared them among the children. One night, my mother told the story to my father complainingly. "They [the Allied powers] are the enemies of God, the enemies of Islam and our enemies." my father called me and said, "we shouldn’t take anything from them and demean ourselves. They want to deceive you with these things and to follow their evil intentions by showing humanitarian behaviors, and then dominate us. They are like Mu'awiyah who sent kids to the devout and friends of Hazrat Ali (AS), and took them back when the children were accustomed to them. And then he explained for the children that Ali (AS) has come overnight and taken them. In this way, he wanted to sow the seeds of grudge against Ali in the hearts of children..."

By hearing this story and my father's words, I regretted of what I was doing and thought these things caused to offend Ali (AS). With a lump in the throat and being close to tears, I asked my father: "Now, Hazrat Ali (AS) doesn’t like me and has gotten upset?" My father replied: "If you have regrets about it, you can repent and ask God forgive you. And you shouldn’t take anything from them and give to others anymore, or eat anything they give you. In this case, both God and Imam Ali (AS) will be pleased with you ..."

That night, I poured out my heart to my father and talked about my childish thoughts. He answered with pleasure and in simple language. Sometimes, he was a stranger to my questions and sank into thinking.

 

To be continued…

 
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