Childhood and Elementary School
I was seven years old when my brother, Mahmood, who was mentally sick, and I went to Farvardin elementary school which was located in the same quarter and registered our names for the 1st grade.
Since my brother was sick, I always had to be beside him. His condition was in a way that always someone had to be careful about him and even at nights one of family members had to sleep beside him to care about.[1]
Because of our family’s bad economic situation, we had some hardships for going to school. Once I remember because of not having a pair of trousers, I could not go to school for one week; until my brother, Mahdi, came home on furlough and give one of his military trousers to me. I had the trousers dyed and my mum made it smaller to my size.
I passed my early years by the childhood affections of all kids and economic hardships of my own family. I was in last years of elementary school that bit by bit I started to understand some of conversation happened between the teachers and some groups at school. Their conversations had contradiction with the religious ideas and believe that I was grown up with. Sometimes in religious session that I would participate, I could see that some clergies would criticize those talks and respond them. Living is this duality bit by bit made my mind familiar with some religious and political events which would arouse my sense of curiosity.
Once I was in 5th grade that one day our teacher put the chalk and duster away and began talking about God and the creation. He said: “What’s God? Who’s God? What do these things mean? Doesn’t human have wisdom to …?”
Those sentences deeply affected me. I was disturbed and as a kid, I did not want to school any more. I came back home and narrated all that happened for my father. He was illiterate and told me with his own understanding: “Hey kid, do not swear! Do not talk against religion!” My father told the matter to Mr. Assar Mir Makhmalian[2] and then introduced me to him. One day I went to his house. Mr. Assar asked me about my teacher’s talks. I grudgingly retold whatever I had heard. Then, he took a pen and paper and said: “This man is a communist and these talks are against the religion and procommunist. I write something. Take it and read it in class!” Then, he wrote: “In the name of God, the compassionate the merciful. Said the prophet of Allah: He who knows the self gets to know his Creator...” He wrote an interesting readable long paper about human, body, soul, and the state of each of them in nature. Then he asked me: “My dear, do you have soul or not?” I said: “Yes, I do.” If I had said something else, he would have asked me what the difference was between me and a corpse. Mr. Assar talked about the difference between alive and dead and if soul can be seen or not. I was happy with his talks and my disturbance wiped out. As a kid I felt that there was someone who would understand more than my teacher.
I made a fair copy and was waiting for composition hour at school. The day came and I went to read my paper in the class. I was in the middle of reading that the teacher interrupted me and said: "What are you reading? Why have you written it?"
[1] Mahmood Ahmad could not finish school because of lack of mental health. His parents never agreed to take him to a sanatorium and they took care of him by themselves. Finally, Mahmood died at 33 when Ahmad was in prison.
[2] Mr. Assar Mirmakhmalian was a local educated knowledgeable clergy and a friend of Ahmad’s father and he had good family relations with him.
I said: "Sir; that day you told us there is no God. I went to search for it and now I want to read what I found." He became pale and then red and said: "It's enough. Go and take your seat."
I said: "No Sir; I should finish it."
My classmates asked for what I wanted and said together: "Sir; let him finish." Forcibly, he agreed. When I finished the paper, I explained who had written it for me and why.
Such events during school days made my mind busy. I always was looking for the reasons behind events. Sometimes I would talk to my mum about religious or ideological issues; e. g. it was hard for me to accept that soil and water have created a saucer accidentally.
In Muharram & Safar months kids at my age and me would go to mourning ceremonies in our own mourning groups and would read these words in the streets:
It’s Muharram again and the hearts are broken the lock of Leyla’s heart is broken
I was only a kid, but I would never swear untruly. I would read Quran a lot and my mum was a big help in this regard. While she was cleaning the house, she would also correct my reading. Day by day I would be more and more devoted to Quran, Imams and infallible.
I was always thinking about the poorness and economic misery of the people around. I could see the economic misery in the appearance and clothes of the kids at school. Most of the students had no good financial conditions. However, few students whose fathers were government employees had a bit better condition. In some cases, school officials might help poor students by giving shoes and clothes to them. Most of parents would refer to school officials for help.
Immigration and ethnic culture had penetrated to school through the students. There were groups made based on the ethnic roots and their language. In these groups the Turks might support the Turks and Persians from Persian and Kurds from Kurds. Hadi Jame’i and Iraj Haqiqat, two of my friends and I had also a 3-member group and would support each other when we had quarrels with other kids.
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