The Unforgettable Day of Visit

The visiting days in prison had a quite different feeling. After visiting families, the prisoners would become more determined and patient. So, my friends would ask me to let them inform my family to visit me. But I did not like to because I thought that I would be executed.

Ayatollah Teleghani’s granddaughter, A’zam Khanom’s daughter who was 15 years old would come to visit her mother and grandpa repeatedly. During one of these visits, Agha introduced me to her in order to take my health news out of prison. Once I remember the late Taleghani said: “Mr. Ahmad let them inform your family to come and visit you. Many things may happen; how are you sure that you would be executed?!”

I accepted and waited for the visiting day. I was deeply thinking what my old parent’s reaction would be after seeing my conditions. What I had to do? What I had to say about Fatima? …

The promised day reached. Those days they would install a canvas tent for the visiting of families with their imprisoned relatives. The guards helped me walking by holding my hands and moved to the yard and I sat on a bench… few minutes later the gate was open. My parents came to me. My Mum had a strange feeling. She took her veil under her arm and ran to me with a maternal enthusiasm. I was so embarrassed that I could not stand on my feet to welcome them. When they reached me, I was still sitting on the bench; they hugged me. My Mum was sobbing. My Dad was shocked. Some minutes passed in silence and tears. My Dad was wiping his tears from his crinkled cheeks. My Mum had hidden her kind face with her scarf and sobbing and weeping as rain.

At the first glance they did not notice my disablement because of the enthusiasm they had. They asked: “Ahmad! What’s up?” I answered: “Nothing; there was a fight and thank God that I survived.” My Dad’s hands and body would still jerk because of the shock made by one of Manouchehri agents in 1973. My Mum said that my mother-in-law and kids were there outside prison in a car. They had not let them come in. I asked a sergeant around there to go and arrange if they could come in to visit me.

He said: “SAVAK has ordered not to let your mother-in-law[1] to come in but you kids can. My Dad went to fetch them. Minutes later I saw my kids toddling after their grandpa toward me. When they got closer, My Dad told Maryam and Zahra: “Go to your Daddy!” They were about three years old. They were looking at me doubtfully; thinking if they really had a Dad!? I was not able to stand and go toward them. They doubtfully got closer to me step by step. I hugged and kissed them.

Minutes later they become friendly and began playing and laughing while climbing me. Suddenly they went under the bench and brought out my wooden canes. When seeing the canes, my Mum burst to cry and asked: “Ahmad! Are these for you?” I said: “It’s nothing important Mum. Don’t cry! I have pain in my legs. It’s not permanent.” She asked: “No, Ahmad. They have tortured you.” I said: “No, Mum.” Finally, I could resist her tears and confessed that I had been shot. I convinced her that it was nothing important. At the last moments my Mum asked about Fatima. I said: “I have heard nothing new about her since I’ve been arrested.”

Visiting my family made me hopeful about life. Then after, I would welcome the troubles and events. One day, Ayatollah Taleghani’s granddaughter brought us pineapples. None of us including Hashemi Rafsanjani, Mousavi Kho’eynihaa and Mahdavi Kani knew how to eat it … because of the simple lifestyle we had. One would say it should be bit; the other would say it should be cut like a melon and … At last, we could not find out how to eat it. So, we gifted it to the Marxist Proletarians. They ate it and we knew how it had to be eaten.