The Days without Mirror (Part 20)

2019-4-16

The Days without Mirror (Part 20)

Memoirs of Manijeh Lashgari; The wife of released pilot, Hossein Lashgari

Edited by: Golestan Jafarian

Translator: Zahra Hosseinian

Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company

‎2016 (Persian Version)‎

In March 1998, the Air Force and the Department of Prisoner of War phoned me and said, ‘Most likely Hossein Lashgari will be exchanged in April 1998.’ That New Year holidays I didn't travel, and if I went anywhere, I returned home soon in order not to lose any phone call.

Until the 6^th of April, at 8:30 am, the air force called me and told, ‘Mrs. Lashgari, do praying, we’re going to do negotiation. We hope exchange will be done. God willing.’

I said, ‘Is it possible Hossein to be released?’

• It is, God willing, we’re going there only for this case.’

Two or three hours later, representative of the Air Force, Mr. Sanei, called me from Qasr-e-Shirin border and declared, ‘Glad news Mrs. Lashgari! Hossein was released!’ I said, ‘Are you sure it’s him, Mr. Sanei! ... Are you sure?’ He said, ‘Yes ... it’s him, Hossein was released!’

Ali had gone out. I was alone at home. I put the receiver and began crying to my heart’s content for all the years passed without Hossein and with so difficulties... Then I picked up the phone and the first one I called. was my brother. ‘Hossein’s released!’ I said.

• What do you say Manijeh!
• God knows, they made a call from the border right now and told me Hossein’s been released.’
• You spoke with him?
• No. Mr. Sanei said it’s very crowded here; it's not possible to speak with him now.

In an hour my house got crowded. All the family gathered: siblings, sisters-in-law, and so on. Some of them laughed, some cried. The phone rang constantly. It was arranged to speak with Hossein by telephone at 14:00 pm. A group of reporters and cameramen rushed to my house very soon. In my silent life that I could manage everything, now a commotion occurred suddenly. I could not control anything; I was shocked. How should I speak with Hossein after eighteen years in front of many people and cameras? I didn't like this way, but nobody listened to me. I wore a chador and I sat down on a chair beside phone in front of the cameras. Moments were passing hard. I felt as if the big pendulum wall clock in the corner of the living room were hitting in my head. Finally, the phone rang. Everyone fell silent. His voice had changed very much; he spoke with an accent... Arabic accent! It was eighteen years that I wished to hear his voice. I had cried days and nights because of missing his voice; but now, I was tongue-tied. Several times he said; ‘hello... hello...’

‘Hello...’ finally, I said.

• Hello, Haj Khanum.
• Hello, Hossein, are you okay?
• Thanks God, I’m fine. How’re you?
• Thanks God, I’m very fine. I’m better than before.
• Are you crying?
• Nah.
• Well, why your voice is so husky and weak?
• No, no… I don’t know what to say!
• I wrote you that finally we see each other and get together. God willed and we made it. I went yesterday and come back today... right?

Having a lump in my throat, I said: ‘Yeah, that’s right, Hossein... but it was very hard.’

‘Well, take it easy. How’s your relationship with Ali? Was he a good son?’ He said with a shaky voice.

• Yeah, he’s here… he wants to talk with you. He’s a tall boy with a good physique, may God protect him from the evil eye. You can be proud of him.

I gave the phone to Ali, threw my chador over my face and cried silently. My whole body was shaking. I didn't hear what Ali said to Hossein at all.

Chador is a good thing! No one could see my tears or my state. I preferred to be allowed to speak with Hossein privately at the first time. I was saddened because I was among many people who in a deep silent had kept their eyes on me. Almost bursting a blood vessel, but I had to control myself. During those years, I had repeated thousand times what I wanted to say to Hossein by phone; but at that time, among those who gathered in my house, I was only praying our conversation to be finished quickly and my house became uncrowded.

That night the house was crowded by many guests. I was not in a state to entertain them; therefore, they themselves cooked food, laid the spread, and collected it. I could not eat even a morsel; I only thought to the next day when it was going to visit him. We should be in the airport at 14:00 pm. Two other pilots had been released along with Hossein. When we wanted to go to the airport I felt that everybody - by their look, without saying anything - was telling me to wear a chador. I didn't care about their look. Finally, my sister approached me and said gently, ‘Manijeh, don’t you want to wear a chador?’

‘No! My hijab has no problem.’ I said. I had worn a large black head scarf with a long manteau and black trousers.

‘Be sure that Hossein likes to see you in chador.’ She continued, ‘if you don’t, maybe he’ll get upset.’

I said, ‘If Hossein's going to get upset of me because if not wearing chador, let him get upset from now. When I got married to Hossein, I didn't wear chador, now why should I pretend?’

At the airport, the wives and all close relatives of those two pilots had worn chador. I sat down on a chair in a corner. With a camera in their hands, the reporters ran around. They interviewed with wives of those two pilots. I watched them to look for me among the crowd; looking for a woman has worn chador. They passed me twice and said constantly, ‘so, where’s Mrs. Lashgari?’

It was 15:00 or 16:00 when they entered the waiting area. I had seen Hossein's photo; so, I recognized him as soon as he arrived. I saw him from far away. He was accompanied with two pilots in his right and left side. As soon as I set my eyes on him, it seemed he had not been far away from me for many years; I knew him very well and loved him. My feelings had come to life. There was no longer any sense of strangeness that I had about his photos and tone of voice. I don't know what had happened; I felt like a girl who saw her husband for the first time; I was both embarrassed and happy, and I wanted him to be with me. I whispered, "God, how much I love this man".

Hossein approached; came very close. All the family, friends and relatives had surrounded and kissed him, one hugged him, the other one took his hand, and one had groveled to him. I completely felt that Hossein was looking for someone from above the head of all of them. I had only stared at him. I saw people came and went incessant in front of me, but I didn't hear any sound. I didn't feel my knees, I couldn't stand up. My older brother, who always cared for me in crowd, came to me and said, ‘Manijeh, why you’ve sat? Rise up!’ he held my arm to help me stand, and said loudly, ‘Please, get out of the way! Let his wife meets him!’

A sea of the crowd stepped aside and opened a way for me. Reporters ran with their cameras. We came face to face with each other. He took my hand and said, ‘How’re you?’

‘I'm fine!’ I answered.

He kissed my forehead and suddenly the crowd separated me and Hossein from each other. I went to a corner and sat on a chair. He was interviewed by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the heads and other figures, which lasted forty minutes. At the same time, reporters gathered around me several times and took pictures. ‘Mrs. Lashgari, what’re you feeling at this moment?’ they asked me. I did not answer; I just kept silent. How painful this question was to me. I had been tired. I had headache and dizziness. I was not used to these kinds of crowds. I had a quiet and not crowded life for many years.

Finally, in front of many eyes and cameras, they let Hossein to sit beside me and Ali for a quarter. Again, everybody who passed us kissed him and cried. Hossein had also become restless. We couldn't talk to each other. He looked at me and I looked at him.

A sincere kind-hearted and, of course, very tired and pale man had sat down next to me. There was no vitality in his eyes. With all my heart I felt he needs a quiet environment. We three were like those who severely injured in an accident and have come out of a coma after eighteen years. We only needed to sit for hours and look at each other in order to see how we had changed in appearance; so that to start the ball rolling, and then could speak with each other. I was wondering why nobody among that crowd understood this.

be continued…