Daughter of Sheena 60


2015-12-13


Daughter of Sheena-60

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 came back home. My brother was not with children. He went to the other room and sat next to my father-in-law, talking together in a low voice. They stopped talking as soon as saw me.

My anxiety increased. “Why haven’t you still slept?” I said, “What’s wrong? If there is anything I should know, please tell me. I’m very worried.”

My father-in-law again lay down in his bed and said: “No, my daughter-in-law, there’s nothing. We are speaking about manly and family things. What is supposed to happen? If there was anything, we surly said it to you.”

I went back into the hall. I should cook something for dinner. Zahra and Somayeh and Mahdi were playing together. Khadija and Masumah did their homework.

I was severely anxious and anguished. I changed my idea and instead of cooking dinner I went again to Mrs. Darabi’s house. “For Heaven’s sake, please call to your husband and ask about Samad’s condition.”

Mrs. Darabi immediately said: “Actually, I talked to him a few minutes ago. He said Mr. Samad is very fine. He added that Mr. Samad is now with him.”

I was happy as a sand boy. “Thank you very much. So, would you please call him again, so I can speak with Samad until he hasn’t gone?”

Mrs. Darabi first killed time a little. Then she picked up the phone and dialed and hung up non-stop. “It’s busy.” She said.

Finally she said: “Oh, my God! It is like their line is cut-off.”

Mrs. Darabi teed me off. I said goodbye and went to our house. I had suspected badly. Mrs. Darabi wasn’t usual. As if something had happened and she also had heard. As soon as arriving home, I saw my father-in-law and my brother have sat down inside the hall, taken the Quran which was on the niche, and been busy reading Samad’s will. My father-in-law folded the will and put it between the Quran’s pages when saw me, and said: “We couldn’t sleep there. So we came to read Quran.”

I bit my lips. Their behavior went me mad. I said: “What are you hiding from me. That Samad has martyred.” I took the Quran from my father-in-law and held it close to my chest, said: “Samad is martyred. I know.”

My father-in-law looked at me wonderingly and said: “Who did tell you?”

Suddenly my brother burst into tears.

 I cried too. Opening the Qur'an, I took the will, kissed it and said: “Oh, Samad! Your kids are still very little. What was the time of going, without saying goodbye? Wasn’t really important for you to say goodbye to me?”

I put my hand on the Quran and said: “O Allah! I swear to this, everything will be a lie. My Samad backs again. O Allah! Please return my Samad.”

My father-in-law turned toward the wall and began crying. His shoulders were shakings. As if Khadija and Masumah had found out what had happened. They came and sat down beside me. They also were crying. Somayeh had sat on my feet and wiped my tears. Mahdi was staring at me. Zahra had tears in her eyes.

My father-in-law would call Samad and Sattar as he was sobbing. He hugged Mahdi, kissed him, and sang mournful Turkish poems; but suddenly stopped and said: “Samad has written into his will that tell my wife to live like Zeinab. He has written Mahdi is the man of my family after me.”

And again he began to cry.

My brother took the picture frame of Samad from niche and sat down. Kids ran toward the picture as always. One kissed it, the other touched it. Zahra called ‘daddy, daddy’ with sweet-talk.

My brother stretched his hands to the sky and said: “O Allah! Help us to be patient. O Allah! How we can tolerate?! How my sister can raise her kids without their father?”

Shortly after, neighbors arrived one by one. They hugged me crying. They kissed my kids. I cried my heart out when Mrs. Darabi arrived. She shook her hands and said with moaning and mourning: “Mrs. Qadamkheyr, I feel sorry for you and your kids. Thinking to your sorrow makes me to collapse, Mrs. Qadamkheyr.”

I sobbed out: “You heard sooner than me that my children lose their father.”

Mrs. Darabi was crying and shaking his hands and head. She breathed hardly and was fainting.

That night I mourned until morning. As soon as the kids slept, I went next to them, kissed them one by one and sobbed slowly. They woke up by hearing my sobbing.

It was a very bad night. I moaned and mourned until morning. I cried my eyes out for my kid’s loneliness.

I was like a fire from inner, but I had been frozen outside. Neighbors stayed with me through the night and wept along with me. I couldn’t breast-feed Zahra. Poor Zahra was hungry and screamed.

Neighbors took Zahra and Somayeh with themselves.

 

To be continued…



 
Number of Visits: 5848


Comments

 
Full Name:
Email:
Comment:
Captcha (9 + 5) :
 

The Editor's Missing Place on the “Deck”

The book From Deck to Heaven offers a relatively fresh approach to examining the role of the Islamic Republic of Iran Army Navy (AJA) during the eight years of the Sacred Defense, published under the “Oral History of the Islamic Revolution” series. To compile this book, the esteemed author has utilized documentary research (referring to relevant archival centers and selecting documents) and field research ...

An Exceptional Haft‑Seen Table

I wanted to celebrate the new year with my family. Together with two relief workers I boarded buses designated for transporting the wounded to Choubideh and received our mission orders. We waited for a helicopter to take us to Bandar Imam Khomeini. I was stationed near the helicopter’s touchdown zone and was slight in build. As the helicopter was about to land, I could not steady myself; the breeze generated by the rotor blades lifted me off the ground.
Instead of the Spring special;

Spring under the shadow of war

Composing the Spring special for the new year in the past years was mostly along with hope, nature’s rebirth and the promise of renewal of life. Spring has always been a reminder for returning of life and peace after the Winters’ cold. This year though, another atmosphere has settled over our land in the last days of Esfand (March).

Excerpt from the Memoirs of Mohammad-Hadi Ardebilli

I registered for Konkour (university entrance exam), following the conclusion of high school. I was accepted into Tehran’s polytechnic (Amirkabir) university and began to study chemical and petrochemical engineering. There was a building named Jordan in the faculty in which religious students had prepared a small room as a house of prayer and did the noon and afternoon prayers in there.