Daughter of Sheena (24)

Behnaz Zarrabizadeh

Daughter of Sheena-24
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

I do not know how I felt asleep, but I remember that I dreamed nightmare until morning. Early morning, after Fajr prayer , my father-in-law got ready to go out, without eating breakfast. My mother-in-law also took her Chador and ran after him. I could not stand any more. I threw my Chador over my head and said: “I come too.”
My father-in-law said angrily: “No, no. Where do you want to come? We have some work to do. You stay home with your children.”
I felt like crying. I would groan and say: “In God’s name, tell me the truth. What has happened for Samad? I know something has happened for him, so tell me the truth.”
Again my father-in-law said: “Go to entertain your guests. They wake up now, breakfast should be prepared.”
I would cry my eyes out and whimper: “Shirin Jan will do it. I myself will go to Islamic Court right now, if you don’t take me.”
My father-in-law didn’t pursue more as I said this. My mother-in-law filled with pity for me and said: “We also don’t know enough. They say Samad has injured and now he is in hospital.”
I felt weak at knees as I heard this. I don’t remember how we got into the car and reached to the hospital. I was looking about in hospital to see Samad’s corpse that Teymoor ran toward us, said something in his father’s ear and together they went toward the ward. My mother-in-law and I also ran after them. To his father, Teymoor was telling the events that had happened for Samad; and we would hear that Samad and one of his colleagues had arrested a few hypocrites yesterday. One of them had been a woman, so Samad and his friend didn’t do body search because of observing Islamic standards of dress and conduct, and just asked her: “Do you have any weapon? Tell the truth.” She swore that she hasn’t any. Samad and his colleagues ordered them to get into the car so to take them to the court. On the way, out of blue, the woman took the safety-catch of a grenade and threw it in the center of car. Mr. Mesgarian, Samad’s friend, to be martyred immediately, but Samad got wounded.
Reaching to the ward, Teymoor said to a guard who had sat by the door: “We want to see Mr. Ibrahimi.”
The guard refused and said: “He is incommunicado.”
I couldn’t help it. I started crying and begging. At the same time, a nurse arrived. When he found out I’m Samad’ wife, filled with pity for me and said: “Just you can go in. Not more than two or three minutes, come back soon.”
My feet did not have any energy to walk. I stopped in front of the door and held the frame by my hand not to fall down. I glimpsed all the beds. Samad wasn’t in that room. My heart throbbing was stopping. I was losing my breath. So, where is my Samad? What has happened for him?
Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of Mr. Yadegari, a friend of Samad. He was lying on the bed next to the window. He saw me too and said: “Hello Mrs. Ibrahimi. Mr. Ibrahimi has lain here,” and pointed to the next bed.
I could not believe. That man, who had lain on the bed, was Samad. How weak and thin he had been. His cheeks had been dented and his cheek bones had been protruded. I went ahead more. In a moment, I panicked. His yellow legs, which had been out of the sheet, had thinned down too much. I said myself, oh, my God! Is it possible that...
I stood next to his bed. He noticed me. Very slowly he opened his eyes and with difficulty said: “Where are babies?”
I had had a lump in the throat. I could hardly speak, but finally I said: “My sister’s looking after them. They’re fine. You ok?!”
He couldn’t answer. Nodded his head and closed his eyes. This was all the words we said to each other. I had stared to the volume expander and blood bag which had been injected to him. The same nurse came in and pointed me to go out.
As I reached to the hallway, I got out of control and sat down by the wall. The nurse took my hand, helped me to get up, and said: “Let’s go to talk with his doctor.”
She introduced me to a doctor, who had stood by the nursing station in the hallway: “Doctor, she’s Mr. Ibrahimi’s wife.”
The doctor was studying a case. He closed it, looked at me, greeted with a smile and a special peace, and said: “Mrs. Ibrahimi! God has had mercy on you, and also on Mr. Ibrahimi. Both kidneys of your spouse have severely injured. But the state of one of them is worse. Probably it has disabled.”
Then, after making a short pause, he said: “Last night, they were transferring him to Tehran that I arrived and immediately operated on him. Certainly a serious problem would occur in the way, if I had been a little later and he had been transferred. The operation was satisfying. The risk has been obviated at present. But unfortunately, as I said, we couldn’t do anything for one of his kidneys.”

To be continued…