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?”Da (Mother) 116
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
“That’s no excuse. Isn’t the Imam the leader of the country and all the Muslims of the world? Where do these gentlemen get off insulting him and disparaging our sacred beliefs? Why can’t they accept a reality as plain as day to everybody else!?” The officer said, “This is dangerous talk, especially in a place as isolated as this.” “We heard them defy the Imam and insult him,” the girls said.Da (Mother) 115
The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni
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.”1
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Destiny Had It So
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.
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: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.Memoirs of Commander Mohammad Jafar Asadi about Ayatollah Madani
As I previously mentioned, alongside Mehdi, as a revolutionary young man, there was also a cleric in Nurabad, a Sayyid, whose identity we had to approach with caution, following the group’s security protocols, to ascertain who he truly was. We assigned Hajj Mousa Rezazadeh, a local shopkeeper in Nurabad, who had already cooperated with us, ...
