A Letter from a Fighter at the Front-Line to His Sister (1)

A Letter from a Fighter at the Front-Line to His Sister (1)

(From the Imposed War on Iran)

My sister…
Now while I am writing this letter to you, the smoke of fire is covering the borders of the position I am sitting in. The airplanes which the East and the West have bestowed upon the enemy are at every moment throwing tons of explosive and incendiary materials over our heads. I don't know exactly how much I have left of my life. Life has no value; what is important is to defend religion and the Islamic Nation. If we desire life, that is for the sake of Islam and not only for the sake of remaining alive.

My sister…
In this letter, I am not only addressing you but also all the sisters whose Islamic blood runs in their veins and its spirit flows in their bodies.

My sister…
I don't forget how you suffered and endured when you were working side by side with your brother, planting and harvesting, and when you bore the burden of housework and the responsibility of rearing the children. I will never forget how you held your child while your hand was gripping a scythe and harvesting wheat. I will never forget that day when you were reaping rice despite exhaustion.

My sister…
During the harvest of tea leaves, cotton, and rice, I saw patience and determination on your features because you placed your hope in Allah and depended upon His will and power.

My compassionate sister…
While [you] were sitting in front of the carpet loom, your delicate fingers manifested endeavor, art, and perseverance in the carpets of Kashan, Kerman, Yazd, and Khorasan. It is your handicrafts which used to cut off the hand of Arrogant [Powers] from manipulating the destiny of the Islamic Nation.
I remember when you sat in front of the sewing machine to sew clothes for me and the rest of your brothers and sisters, and when you wove what would cover our bodies.

My sister…
Your important role was not only at the economic front. I also saw you at school battling ignorance with the rest of the sisters in the uprising to combat illiteracy, [and] chasing the remnants of illiteracy in every city and village. In the trench of rearing, you were the mother, the teacher, and the upbringing of great men.

In the domain of rearing, you have the principal and essential role- the role which the Quran and Prophets undertook.

My dear sister…
The day you tread the university campus wearing hijab, the conspiracies of Arrogant [Powers] were thwarted and went in vain. They had placed their hope in two matters: The ignorance and illiteracy of women, and their lack of willpower and immorality.

The Arrogant [Power] has defined these two courses for you: You either [have to] choose ignorance and illiteracy or immorality.

Your presence [characterized by] adhering [to Islamic laws] at university and in religious studies has proven that you have rejected both ignorance and corruption and chosen knowledge and chastity together.

My sister…
In this letter, I don't intend –and I am not able- to relate the history of your oppression. However, I wish here to write down your role and that of my dear mother on these papers which I have gathered from the corners of the trench and which I shall sign with my blood so that the following generations will be able to become informed of the Way of my mother and sister, and so that my daughters will strive to preserve the legacy of their grandmothers and paternal and maternal aunts.

My sister…
If I am standing today in this trench with pride and glory, that is because I saw you standing in the field of struggle before.

On the 7th of July in the year 1978, I saw you wearing a burial shroud and emitting in Mashhad the first revolutionary call against nudity.

I saw you on the 10th of February in the year 1979 advancing toward the army with no fear or apprehension. I saw you preparing Molotov bottles, bringing blankets for your brothers, and moving the wounded to your home.

On the 8th of July in the year 1978 –on Black Friday- I saw you in front of the protestors holding your child and crying out your challenging shouts…

My perseverant sister…
I saw you participating in the Islamic Revolution. I saw you in hospitals bandaging the wounds of your brothers. Through that, you were truly bandaging the wounds of the companions of Hussein (peace be upon him) and pouring fuel at the heart of the burning tyrannical regime.

I saw you printing the declarations, proclamations, and speeches of Imam [Khomeini] and carrying them beneath your chador in order to distribute them to houses.