SABAH (29)
Memoirs of Sabah VatankhahInterviewed and Compiled by Fatemeh Doustkami
Translated by Natalie Haghverdian
2020-09-29
SABAH (29)
Memoirs of Sabah Vatankhah
Interviewed and Compiled by Fatemeh Doustkami
Translated by Natalie Haghverdian
Published by Soore Mehr Publishing Co.
Persian Version 2019
I did not have a good impression from her since she had disgraced the mosque by spitting and using inappropriate words although she was right. When she came to herself, people asked her name and she said that her name is Zahra and is from Khorramshahr. We asked:” what were you doing during the last few days?” she said: “wherever there was an explosion, I went and collected the corpses and took them to Jannat Abad. I heard about last night incident and I could not take it anymore and came here.”
Before that we had often heard Mr. Ebrahimi, a young brunet with curly hair who was the mosque telephone operator, announcing that Jannat Abad needs clothes to bury the martyrs and asked for help, but he never said that they needed guards. Although, considering constant explosions killing animals and the smell of blood from corpses all over the city, it was inevitable that the dogs would smell the blood and attack the bodies who were left unattended but we could not believe that this could happen.
It was decided that someone will accompany the woman to Jannat Abad to finish her burial of her son’s remaining corpse and send her outside the city with the rest of the war-stricken people.
Later, Zahra told us that she would collect the corpses torn apart, those that nobody would dare to touch and take them to Jannat Abad and after a while everybody knew about her and coming across such corpses they would send for her. Later I saw her photo in a magazine while she was holding the half corpse of a three four years old child she had dredged out of rubbles and held in front of the camera.
What she did took its toll on her; she became very nervous and aggressive. We often noticed that she got angry over a small issue and start shouting and cursing. Therefore she became known as “Evil Zahra”.
Around noon, a soldier from Guard Corps in military pants came to the mosque and went to the kitchen to see if there is any food left to be taken to the fronts. As soon as he mentioned the purpose of his visit one of the mosque trustees who was a shop owner in the market started yelling at him, saying: “no we don’t have anything to give you. This food is for our own soldiers. You have your own share. Go and ask from it from your commanders!”
The soldier was embarrassed in front of the crowd, said: “what share Haji?! The soldiers are hungry and thirsty in the fronts. Nobody cares for us in this situation!”
The man said: “as I said, this food is for our own soldiers.”
The silence and decency of that soldier threw my heart on fire. I could see his dry lips and his clothes covered in dust. I lost control and went to the man saying angrily: “why don’t you give them food? Why do you say this is for our own soldiers? Is there any difference between soldiers in war?!” the man said: “stay out of this sister. This is not your business!” I said:” Why isn’t it my business? You have compiled cheese and bread and nuts in the storage for what? Maybe you think the war will be over in a few days and you can sell them?! Are you saving people’s assets for your own benefit?”
Mother Khosrow’s was one of the women working in the kitchen of the mosque and her son was in the front. Once she heard us arguing, she stood by me. I said: “I will give food to this soldier to take and I want to see who is going to stop me?”
The man said: “You know what, what is it to me! Do whatever you want to do. Why should I worry about you.”
I went to one of the cheese containers with mother Khosrow and started preparing sandwiches for soldiers. After we were done, we gave him two big watermelons to take too.
After the soldier left, a minivan arrived from Borujerd. A thin and petit clergy was among them. Those around him called him Sheikh Sherif. He came inside the mosque and started greeting us with a smiling face and in nice words as if he knew us for many years. His teenage son was also with him. In a friendly manner he asked about us and what we were doing. He had brought food supplies and public donations. He asked men to dismount the supplies for the mosque. The supplies included rice, dry bread, tuna cans, watermelon and nuts. The supplies were handed over to the board of trustees of the mosque. The supplies were stored in the stairway of the mosque which reached the roof top to be used in coming days. Based on the request of the Board of Trustees, Maryam Amjadi, was selected to guard the storage. Arrival of the young Sheikh and the supplies he had brought, lifted our spirits in the mosque. At the same time, a few other individuals had come in a group and there were two women among them. They came forward for introduction and introduced themselves as the supporters of Tudeh party and said that they have come to fight with us shoulder to shoulder! I sneered at their words and went away. The women who were with them had a blouse and trousers on with a short scarf on their heads. They were very terrified of the situation in the city. They could not believe that Iraqis could bombard Khorramshahr so easily and there were so many injured and martyrs in a matter of a few days. Their faces were pale from terror. I was sure that they would not stay long in the city and I was right. It was early in the afternoon that they all escaped the city. We could not understand how they escaped and with what transportation!
We had no news from Ali. My mom was restless. She was going around restlessly and asking everybody about Ali. Fouzieh, Shahnaz and I had searched for him everywhere that we could think of; hospital, morgue, Jannat Abad, among the martyrs and injured. We even asked all the soldiers fighting in different fronts. There was no news. We were very worried. Our worry went on for six days. It was noon of the sixth day of autumn and we had all gathered in the yard when Ali walked in with another friend called Ghasem Madani. As soon as I saw him, I ran towards him and hugged him and started kissing him. Ali was embarrassed . He tried to move my hands away from his neck and push me back, saying: “Sabbah, what are you doing? Have shame! Everybody is looking at us, stop!”
I did not listen to him. I continued kissing him saying: “what can I do? I haven’t seen you in a month.”
I could not believe that I was looking at him standing there safe and sound. I looked all over him. He was dirty, covered in mud and was quite thin. His skin was burnt and dark. It was as if he had not slept in a few days with no rest. Although Ali was a tall and thin individual but it was quite obvious that he had lost a lot of weight. He kept insisting that I him alone with his thorn lips. He was embarrassed in front of his friends. I said: “Dear Ali, I was looking for your dead body. When I could not find it, I presumed that you are held captive. Thanks God you are safe … thanks God.”
Mom and Shahnaz and Fouziyeh also joined us. We circled around Ali like butterflies. I never thought that one day we would be so restless to see Ali for one minute. Before the war, we always played together and in our childish world would even annoy each other!
Ali who was seventeen years old, looked older in the Guard Corps uniform. It was hard to believe. How he had grown into a man in a matter of one month. We all sat in a corner. We asked him about his whereabouts in the past month and he said: “when Shalamcheh fell, we had to withdraw and go to Momeni police station. We were around the station for a few days. Then the police station fell after a few hours of conflict and we could escape the station with a lot of difficulty and we were surrounded by Iraqis for 24 hours; we had no water and no food supply. My friends found a few dry dates around. We distributed the dates and ate. There was a water canal near us which was very dirty and had frogs in it but we could move the algae away and drink water.”
Ali was not only weak physically but he was suffering emotionally. He talked about the martyrdom of Heydar Heydari. He said that Heydar took a lot of bullets and went into the road without any fear and started shooting at Iraqis. Heydar had the heart of a lion and was not afraid of death. He could not endure seeing Iraqis crossing the border and invading our country. Those cowards shot him in the forehead.
He said that the Customs was in the hands of Iraqis. Before that there were about two hundred Toyotas in the Customs. Jahan Ara had told all soldiers to move one vehicle and take it away so that Iraqis could not have access to them. He had insisted that these vehicles have owners and belong to the people.
According to Ali and other soldiers’ observations, Iraqis had invaded up to the road police and Sad Dastgah residences. Ali did not have good news for us. He said that if the situation continues like this, we won’t last more than a few days and the city will fall.
I brought them some watermelon and dry bread. They rested for two hours. They were ready to go. My mom insisted that they stay in the mosque for the night and leave in the morning but Ali did not accept. He said: “we have to save time. The other soldiers are alone and need help.”
We saw him to the door. We wanted to go to the street with him but he did not let us. We looked at him as if it was the last time. I told myself: “Sabbah, look at Ali. You might not have the chance to see him again!” Ali said goodbye and left and took our hearts with him.
In the afternoon, Mahmoud Farrokhi came with a friend called Behrouz Moradi. He approached the relief department of the mosque and called me. He asked me to go to Hosseyniyeh with them as we had talked yesterday and I accepted. We set out. I had seen Behrouz Moradi in the mosque during the past two three days. He was a calm young man who did not talk much. He had curled and respectively long hair and light skin. He was mostly in the war fronts and did not come to mosque much but he was a close friend of Mahmoud Farrokhi. He came to the mosque to meet friends whenever he had the chance.
To be continued…
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