SABAH (13)

Memoirs of Sabah Vatankhah

Interviewed and Compiled by Fatemeh Doustkami
Translated by Natalie Haghverdian

2020-6-9

SABAH (13)

Memoirs of Sabah Vatankhah

Interviewed and Compiled by Fatemeh Doustkami

Translated by Natalie Haghverdian

Published by Soore Mehr Publishing Co.

Persian Version 2019

Chapter Three

The Isfahani’s mosque used to hold Nudba prayer on Friday mornings. The scholars of Quran School and Ms. Abedi attended it. Most of us, the members of the Islamic Forum at high school had agreed to attend the Nudba prayer every Friday. One of those Fridays that I went to the Isfahani’s mosque with my cousin, Elaheh, Ms. Abedi told us that a visit has been arranged with Imam in Qom for the scholars of Khoramshahr Quran School and a number of cultural activist clergies. The trip was arranged for the sixth of Farvardin (March 25). She said that we have to register as soon as possible if we are interested.

Imam was residing in Qom at that time. Visiting Imam Khomeini in person was a dream that I never imagined would come true. Ms. Abedi emphasized that the visit is only for Quran School scholars. Elaheh used to visit the Quran School frequently and was a member but I only met Ms. Abedi and her students during Nudba prayers. I was not sure if she would agree to my visit. Elaheh and I went to Ms. Abedi. Elaheh introduced me and said that I was one of the revolutionary students of our high school and have attended many demonstrations and protests. Then she briefly talked about my family. Eventually, she sweet mouthed to persuade Ms. Abedi to take me along.

We both registered without asking permission from our parents. We were afraid of losing the opportunity; we were also worried that the number of travelers might increase leaving us with no free space. We decided to register first and then get permission from our parents. When I described the situation at home, though it was my first trip alone, my mother and father not only did not object but also were very happy and envious that they could not visit Imam.

It was end of Esfand (mid- March) and the trip was in two weeks. I was so excited that I couldn’t eat or sleep. I reviewed the moment of my visit with Imam in my mind for hundred times every day. Every time I imagined the moment differently. Once I imagined myself crying and once I was with red cheeks filled with excitement. I did not know how to act at that moment. I had a vague image of the place, which I had never been to, and the Imam I had never seen. I was counting hours and seconds of every day. The days seemed longer and did not intend to pass.

Eventually, those two exhausting weeks passed and on sixth of Farvardin (March 25) and we arranged to meet in Khorramshahr train station. We were told to bring a plate, a spoon, a fork, a glass and a small blanket. We had decided to bring meatloaf for dinner. Our trip was supposed to take five days. My mother, Fouziyeh, Shahnaz and Saleheh came to the train station to see me off. All of them, especially Shahnaz, sent their regards to Imam. I, Elaheh, Sakineh Hoursi, Mozhgan and Mojdeh Ambashi and another student of the Islamic Forum of Farah high school, whom I did not know well, were in one coach.

We had occupied one coach. Once he train set off, we could freely move between the coaches and see friends. Our coach was the most populated and busy one. We were all, happy and could not sit in one place.

In Qom, we were settled in a house which was said to belong to Mr. Ghara’ati located in a street behind the Holy Shrine. It was a two-store house. We were accommodated in the second floor and Mr. Allameh and Mr. Hosseini, who was a young clergy and had our responsibility in Qom, in the first floor.

Mr. Hosseini was a special person. He was very tough and constantly advised us not to laugh or make sounds! We were a group of Khuzestani anxious and active girls and joked a lot. The excitement of visiting Imam had also added to our joy. For many of us, it was the first time to visit Qom and pilgrimage the Shrine of Hazrate Masoumeh and the graves of great men of science of Islam like Ayatollah Borujerdi. This had exacerbated our excitement. He kept reminding us to keep silent. We were doing our best to keep calm. We were afraid that he might regret bringing us here and return us to Khorramshahr.

Before visiting Imam, Mr. Hosseini hold one or two sessions and discussed some issues; such as Islamic Government and public role in it. Then the sessions were followed by question and answer. I asked if all those houses, factories and other belongings that was Shah’s and his followers and are now confiscated by Islamic Revolution, are Halal based on Islam? Mr. Hosseini explained that none of these items belonged to Shah and in fact it belonged to the people of Iran. Shah had confiscated them and there is no problem if Islamic Revolution takes it back and uses it for development and to the benefit of people.

We were not allowed to visit the Shrine alone. Although the Shrine was very close and we promised to go in the groups of five or six, he did not agree. We went to the Shrine all together and returned. He was really pushing us to our limits. We even complained to Ms. Abedi. She told us that this is the way it is and we should abide by it.

While we were in the Shrine, I recounted all members of my family; all martyrs of the revolution. I prayed for all of them. While visiting Ayatollah Borujerdi, I remembered Bibi. Bibi used to talk about him a lot. She had the same big respect towards Ayatollah Borujerdi that we had towards Imam.

Finally it was the day to visit Imam. We went to a place near the Shrine with Mr. Hosseini. The house that Imam lived in, was very simple. We were guided to a room in which his public or private visits were conducted. It was about 12 square meters. In one corner, there was a blanket and a chair. Mr. Hosseini ordered us to keep silent and avoid talking when Imam entered?”

I was very angry. He was bossing us around all the time. As I was looking angrily at Mr. Hosseini, the door opened and Imam came in. For one moment, I felt that a mountain of light has entered the room. We all jumped from our places. A young lady was accompanying him who was the spouse of martyr Mostafa and Imam’s daughter-in-law. I felt that blood was boiling in my vessels. I felt like I was burning. I could not take my eyes off his Holy face. Imam was tall and good looking. While entering the room, Imam ordered Mr. Hosseini to go out. My heart dropped. He had control over the situation. He felt that Mr. Hosseini had given many orders and annoyed us. When Mr. Hosseini went out, we felt comfortable and gathered around him. I sat behind Imam.

Imam was wearing a brown old cloak (aba); it was even torn in one place. His turban was also old. He was not materialistic. I do not know how I found the courage to get close to Imam and kiss his cloak (aba). The nice scent of Imam filled my body. I started crying. Imam walked towards the chair and the blanket in one corner and sat on the blanket on the floor. I sat on his left side. I was sitting really close to him.

Imam started speaking. He thanked the people of Khuzestan and their efforts in the revolution. Others were crying. We were looking at him with eyes filled with tears. His character was very special. He looked and treated us in a special way and paid each and every one of us a special attention. He seemed to pass through each one of us and understood how we felt.

Imam recounted the events from the days the women started their activities in Khorramshahr until the victory of revolution and said: “you have made a lot of effort and are dear to God.” I felt that all these things were happening in my dream. I could not believe this happiness. I was so absorbed that I lost track of time. Fifteen minutes passed so quickly and Imam had a visit with another group and had to leave.

While coming out, girls took Imam’s cloak (aba) and kissed. I kissed his turban again and then told the spouse of Haj-Agha Mostafa that a part of Imam’s cloak (aba) is torn. She kindly responded: “I will sew it myself.”

We came out of that room and that house. We were so calm and introvert. There was no sign of anxiety and naughtiness. Imam’s visit had calmed us all. I did not want to think about anything rather than this visit. All the cells in my body were filled with kindness and love towards Imam. I already missed him. I was only worried that when will be the next time that I could visit my Leader and my Imam and this thought was killing me. I kept asking myself if I could see him one more time.

We returned to Khorramshahr the next day. My mom and sisters were eagerly waiting to hear all about it. I went through the whole story and details of our visit so many times. Although I tried to remember and tell every detail but those words could not explain one golden minute of that visit. The taste of that visit was so sweet and special that you had to experience it yourself.

It was twelfth of Farvardin 1358 (31 March 1379), and I and Khadijeh Bazoun and some other revolutionary forces of Khorramshahr were collecting votes in Khorramshahr Jameh mosque. A few days before, they had announced in the mosque that those willing to help should give their name and identifications. They had to get the approval from the Governorate.

I registered. Two days later, I was chosen as information dissemination volunteer for the election by the mosque. We had a briefing session and they explained that we should answer all the questions that the voters might have. The responsibility of elderly voters was also with me. I explained to them that our votes consist of two papers, green for “Yes” and red for “No”. I explained that by voting yes or no, we approve or reject Iranian Islamic Revolution.

That day, the only person that I saw putting a red paper in the box, was a young Communist woman with no Hejab and a floral jacket and skirt with curly hair. I tried to talk to her but it was no use. She told me: “the Communism structure has been successful in USSR but we have no understanding and knowledge of Islam. We don’t even know whether Islam can satisfy the requirements of a society. Especially the requirements of a chaotic society like ours. I cannot trust Islamic Government and vote for it.” She was very determined, voted and left.

For lunch we were served cooked potatoes and eggs by the Governorate. The boys made a joke and said: “we were thinking that they will serve us SOBOUR! What is this?”

The great public enthusiasm took the voting in Jameh mosque to the last hours of the night. They brought us tariffs twice. The mosque was very crowded. Each person wanted to prove that he/she is a Muslim by voting and they were competing.

To be continued…