Daughter of Sheena (16)

Behnaz Zarrabizadeh

Daughter of Sheena-16
Memories of Qadamkheyr Mohammadi Kanaan
Wife of Sardar Shaheed Haj Sattar Ebrahimi Hajir
Memory writer: Behnaz Zarrabizadeh
Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company, 2011 (Persian Version)
Translated by Zahra Hosseinian

Chapter Nine
Construction of our house was finished in the last days of summer. It was a small house. It was just consisted of one room and a kitchen. The toilet was also in the corner of courtyard. Samad had also built a small barn next to the toilet, for firewood, charcoals of Korsi, and odds and ends of the house.
We brought our little households to our own house by my siblings’ helping. Shirin jan was working more than others and enjoyed of our home. How much we rejoiced for having that house; as if we had built palace. This house was prettier, wider, and more pleasant than any other houses I had ever seen, in my view. It became more beautiful when we arranged our things.
From the next day, Samad was looking for a job again. One day he went to Razan, other day went to Hamedan. Eventually he had to go to Tehran. A week later he returned. He was very happy. He had found a new job. Again, my loneliness had been started; he came home at long intervals. Sitting in the corner of room, he held our small radio by his ear and continually changed its waves, in times he came back home. "What's wrong?” I was asking, “What are you doing? Raise its voice a little so I can hear too.”
He said nothing at beginnings. But one night he pulled out a small photo from his pocket and said, "This is Mr. Khomeini’s photo. Shah has exiled him. People are demonstrating. They want Mr. Khomeini come back and make country Islamic. There are demos in many cities.”
Then he rose and stood in the center of room and said:"People in Tehran shout a slogan like this.”
He clenched his fist and shouted: “Down with the Shah ... Down with the Shah.”
Then, he sat beside me. "I bring this for you.” He put Khomeini’s photo in my hand and said, “Look at him as much as you can; so our baby become devout and shining like divine light, just like Mr. Khomeini.”
I took the photo and looked at him. My baby wriggled into my abdomen.
Days came and went one after another. The news of demos in Tehran, Hamadan, and other cities had reached to Qayesh, too. Returning home, Samad’ little brothers, who had gone to Tehran for working, broke the news that Samad goes to demo everyday and has become constant base of all rallies.
Once, one of our villager-mates broke news that Samad has gone to one of Tehran’s barracks with number of others, provided a gun, brought it to Razan nightly, and given it to Sheikh Mohammad Sharifi .
I simmered with anger when I heard this news. I fumed that why Samad followed these dangerous things.
He came to village at long intervals and made excuses that it is winter and roads are slippery and dangerous. On the other hand, they should finish constructing of building as soon as possible and deliver it. I knew he didn’t tell the truth and came to demo, leafleted, and followed all that kind of things, instead of working.
It was the wedding of one of our families. Before, we had told Samad and his brothers to present in this wedding for sure. Samad arrived to the village on the wedding day. It was afternoon. The news of bringing the body of Hojat Ghanbari, who was one of our villager-mates that died a martyr a few days ago in Hamedan’s demo, was passed on.
People abandoned wedding and demonstrated at alleys. With clenched fist, Samad went ahead of crowd and shouted: "Down with the Shah ... Down with the Shah." Men went ahead and women moved on behind them. First men shouted “Down with the Shah” and then women did. No one had stayed at home.
Hojat Ghanbari’s family was within the crowd, and while crying, shouted a slogan.
It was a glorious funeral. We buried Hojat. Samad was upset. He saw me in the crowd. He came toward me, took me home, and said he was going to martyr Ghanbari’s home.
It was night, but Samad had not come home yet. I was nervous. I went to my father's house. Shirin jan was upset. She said neither my father had come home. Whatever I asked that where was he, no one answered me. I threw my Chador over my head and said: "Now that you say nothing, I go to my home.” My sister stopped me and didn’t let me go.
I felt something had happened for Samad and my father. However, I said: "I have to go. Samad comes home and gets worried about me.”
Without terrifying me, Khadija said gently: “They have arrested Soltan Hussein." Soltan Hussein was one of our villager-mates.
I said, "Why?”
Again, Khadija replied gently: "Because Soltan Hussein has informed people that Hojat’s body has been brought to village. He had lead people to demonstrate and shout slogans. Because of this, they have arrested and sent him to Damagh station. Samad wanted to go to the station to set Soltan Hussein free. But Haj Agha and a few others did not let him to go alone. They went with him.”
I felt like crying as I heard the name of my Haj Agha. I told my mother and sister off: "It’s your fault. Why did you let Haj Agha go? He is old and ill. If something happens, you're guilty.”

To be continued…