Da (Mother) 67

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The chaos and the psychological pressure I felt stopped me from going back to the Blazer. The din was horrible. The crying did not stop for a moment. At once dazed and frantic, I could neither cry nor stay calm, frantically looking for someone lost. If I found him, there would be true peace for me. With the arrival of the vans I helped load the wounded. I saw the Blazer move out with one of the vans.

Da (Mother) 66

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Ali, with all his injuries, had managed to get back to Khorramshahr. Even though no one expected him to fight, he had made a beeline for the front, leaving behind his magazine and a shirt as keepsakes. And there were other indications he was destined for martyrdom. As soon as I got to the Congregational Mosque I made a beeline for the things he had left for me on top of the armoire. I took them and went to a corner where I could be by myself.

Da (Mother) 65

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

I pulled myself together and said, “No, but I am pretty banged up.” The pain shot through my body, and I could not straighten my back. Water was gushing from one of the canisters that had overturned. I bent over and righted it. Half the water had spilled. I could not find the lid. One of the ammunition boxes, which had been open, was on its side and all it would have taken was one shell to send everyone to kingdom come.

Da (Mother) 64

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

In the early morning of the tenth day of the war word came that Iraqi tanks had advanced to Railroad Circle and the Slaughterhouse Circle. There was a fierce battle going on and the wounded they brought in by droves kept us extremely busy. I worked, but my mind was on other things. I was busy with bandaging and taping, but my eyes were fixed on the door. I had been expecting Ali since morning.

Da (Mother) 63

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The soldiers and the men standing nearby echoed his cry. I fired the mortar exactly as he had told me. Then the men said, “God is great!” The blast was so loud it made my ears ring. Despite this I felt something novel and strange. I had never felt this way before. Wanting to know where the shell would land I watched as it flew through the sky. “Do you want to fire another?” I heard the lieutenant ask.

Da (Mother) 62

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Nothing I said convinced them. I didn’t have the stomach to stick a rifle in their backs and force them out. I took an old woman by the hand and begged, “For God’s sake, leave. My family members are all in the mosque.” One old woman with a southern drawl said, “Where am I going to go with my son here? Is my blood redder than his? I spent a lifetime raising him, making him somebody, and now I should just get up and go?

Da (Mother) 61

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The men in the mosque tried to calm them. They did not want the shouting cause a panic, but it was no use. These boys were spent. They said, “We have been at it at the front for a few days. By day we push them back, but at night the forces are so tired that they do not have the strength to fight. Then the Iraqis see their chance to retake all of our positions and, what is more, they advance even farther.

Da (Mother) 60

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

The old couple’s faces put them in their sixties, and their eyes seemed glassy either from old age or cataracts. The man was tall and thin. He had a ragged turban on his head and was dressed in a faded grey and wrinkled dishdasha. His hands were unusually large, and I could tell from the calluses on them and his stubby fingers along with his sunburned face he had farmed the date groves all his life.

Da (Mother) 59

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

On the ninth day I awoke early in the morning to the sound of a man giving the call to prayer in the yard. The explosions and shelling, which had been going on all night, had intensified. The intervals between explosions seemed to be getting shorter; it was as if the Iraqis were using everything they had to grind the city to dust. I woke up the row of sleeping bodies for prayer and went into the yard myself for ablutions.

Da (Mother) 58

The Memoirs of Seyyedeh Zahra Hoseyni

Around 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. I was awakened by cries of “Hold him! Do not let him hurt himself!” I raced into the yard and saw that Mr. Najjar was already there with a syringe in his hand. I realized they had given the man another sedative. I stepped forward and saw that two of the people around him had his arms pinned. They were trying to get him to lie down. The blood flowing down his face glistened in the moonlight. Startled, I asked, “What happened?”