Mother’s condition was getting
worse every day, but we could not afford to take her to the doctor for
treatment. My sister and I didn’t know what to do, so we thought it best if I
stopped going to school and went out and found a job. I was willing to do any
kind of work, but I was only thirteen, and finding a job was extremely
difficult due to the war and thousands of people who were unemployed. We
thought it would be better to tell Mother of our decision.
“Maman,
I have something to tell you. Rafat and I have
decided that it would be better for us if I stop going to school and go to work
for a short time until you get better,” I said.
“No, no, never, as long as I am
alive; you must continue your education,” she insisted.
“Well, what else can we do, Maman?” I asked.
“Go to Sagha-Khaneh
and pray. Go to God and ask Him to help us,” she replied weakly.
Sagha-Khaneh
were very small places built outdoors in alleyways and
streets. There was fresh water to drink, and there were also large candlesticks
that people would light and then pray to God. There was one such place in an
alleyway next to the American Christian hospital where I went once a week to
pray.
The next day after coming home
from school, I noticed Mother’s condition had become worse. She could hardly open
her eyes, and she was burning up with fever. I left the house and ran to Sagha-Khaneh where I knelt down in front of God and broke
into tears as I began to pray.
“Oh, dear God, I have come to You for help. Oh, my Lord, please help us; please save my
devoted and innocent mother; please save us from dying of hunger.”
As I rested my forehead on the
wall and cried loudly in the silence of the alleyway, I suddenly felt a few
taps on my shoulder. I turned around and saw a tall American soldier standing
over me. He started talking to me but I couldn’t understand a word he was
saying. I had the feeling he was trying to calm me down as he stroked my head
and wiped my tears with his handkerchief.
He had a very large bag, a kind
of knapsack, that was full. In a kind voice, he was
trying to tell me to take it.
“Here, you take it,” he said.
I knew he wanted me to take the
bag, but I didn’t want to, so in Farsi I said, “Nah-Nah (No-No)!”
He insisted and made me take the
bag. He tapped me on the back and said, “Go. Go home.”
I didn’t know what was in the
bag, but it was so full and so very heavy that I could barely carry it to the
house. When I arrived home, I told Rafat all about
what took place.
“Let’s open it and see what’s in
it. Maybe God sent that soldier to you,” she said.
We opened the bag and were amazed
by what we found inside. There were many boxes of biscuits, chocolate, chewing
gum, candy, packs of sugar, cans of beef, cans of
soup, a few packs of cigarettes, and a few decks of playing cards.
We could not imagine why he might
have put all those things in the bag. We asked our neighbors about it, and they
told us that a lot of American soldiers in Teheran would sell their rations to
obtain extra Iranian money to spend.
Again my prayers were answered.
Not only did my mother feel better the next day, but she completely recovered
after about ten days. We ate some of the food and sold some of the items, so we
had extra money.
In those days, during the war,
some items, like cigarettes, chocolates, and sugar were scarce and the rich
would pay any price to buy them. After discussing the subject, we decided our
best potential buyer would be my rich aunt. The next weekend I took the items
to her house.
They could not believe their eyes
and asked how I got all this merchandise to sell. When I told them about it,
how I went and prayed and about the American soldier, even my aunt cried. They
bought all I had, and I made enough money to keep us going for a few months. As
I was returning home, a thought came to me, “Why not go into business doing
this very thing.”
I told Mother and Sister about it
and they both thought it was a good idea. We paid some of the rent due, bought
some food, and I kept the balance for my business venture.
The very next day I began waiting
in front of the American Christian hospital for the American soldiers to come
out. At first it was difficult, since I didn’t speak the language, so I had to
improvise with hand gestures. The first few weeks, business was terrible I
couldn’t make them understand, and they were going to the established dealers
to conduct business.
These dealers who were there for
a long time and had thousands of Toman (Iranian
money) in their possession, did not want any competition around them, so a few
times they made that clear to me.
“Look, kid, this is not your kind
of job, so get out of here or else!” one of them said to me. “What effect will
it have on your business if I buy a few things from them,” I replied.
“I tell you what; you come here
next time and you won’t leave here in one piece.” Although I was really scared,
I did not mention it to my mother. I knew she would stop me from going back to
work.
One Friday (Iranian holiday) when
I went back to the same place to work, I saw an American soldier with a small
bag in his hand. I approached him and asked him to sell me the contents of the
bag. “Here is a hundred Tuman.” I gave him the money and walked away.
Suddenly from out of nowhere two of the dealers blocked my way.