The Martyrs’ Mural
After breakfast, this
day’s ‘programme’ was a visit to the Bogh’é-yé Shâh-é Cherâgh (the Tomb
of the King of the Lamp), and later to the oldest mosque in Iran. A short drive
brought us to the entrance to the Bogh’é-yé Shâh-é Cherâgh.
Despite the glorious blue-tiles entrance into the mosque complex, there
are a few barricades before you enter but the exterior walls on the right-hand
side are deteriorating concrete walls. The first thing I noticed as we
approached the main entrance or iwan was a mural, up high on the
right-hand side on the concrete wall. It was a hand-painted quadtych (four
panel mural), with each panel portraying an important event in the Shia
religion.
This panel illustrates
the great schism in Islam between Sunnis and Shias, a classic theme in Shiite
art. It connects a solemn modern-day Ayatollah Khomeini, who had been dead for
a decade, to the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), Imam Hussein who
refused to recognize the Umayyad Caliph Yazid I. This ultimately led to the
Battle of Karbala in 680 AD and Hussein’s subsequent martyrdom. Khomeini is
shown in profile, standing with bowed head and hands outstretched in prayer. He
faces a white, wind-blown tent where women in chadors are grieving at
Hussein’s rider less white horse stained with blood. Perhaps Khomeini is still
lamenting the way in which the “imposed war” with Iraq ended when he said:
"Happy
are those who have departed through martyrdom.
Happy
are those who have lost their lives in this convoy
of
light. Unhappy am I that I still survive and have drunk
the
poisoned chalice..."
The second panel shows a
stoic mother in black chador fastening around the head of her grimly
determined son, a red bandanna that has Koranic verse written on it—he is a Basiji.
[4] Her son is seeking martyrdom against the Iraqi aggressors in the “imposed
war”. In this panel, they appear to be half-emerged from the earth in a
landscape that is a wasteland. The Basiji could be grown men or even
teen-age boys who volunteered to walk through landmines, to clear a path and
spurring on waves of Iranian troops.
As a result, two
generations of Iranian women cannot find husbands. Our Frozan was an example.
According to one source, there were six women to every man during the early
1990s immediately after the Iraq-Iran War which ended in 1988 without a victory
on either side. Be that as it may, Iran has one of the youngest male
populations under the age of thirty in the entire Middle East region.
The third panel depicts
four lightly-armed Basiji heading off to a fierce battle in the distance
with the Iraqis. Nearby on the ground and next to an empty water bottle and a
discarded helmet is the blood of a martyr seeping into the ground. There are
palm trees in each scene but they are bereft of their tops no doubt symbolizing
the futility of the “imposed war”.
The fourth panel shows a
mosque floating on a sea of blood punctuated with stark silhouettes of dead
palm trees. I interpreted it as the promised home in heaven for those who
sacrificed their lives for the war.
All of the quadtych’s
panels represent the “imposed war” with Iraq. This mural was a dedication to
the martyrs: those who fought with bare-hands with fanatical strength against
well-armed, well-trained Iraqi troops. It was difficult for us to comprehend
how so many civilian volunteers, armed only with religious zeal, could walk
into certain death. Mothers, daughter and children—all left behind.
This was a heavy
beginning to the day, and throughout our trip, we came across many such
posters, wall murals, and even shrines depicting in graphic detail the blood of
the Basiji martyrs. For instance, when we were entering Isfahan airport,
we came across a glass shrine dedicated to the Basiji, and we wondered
if those Iranians flying had forgotten the sacrifice that many had made during
the war. One display case showed the prosthetic leg of one famous martyr along
with fragments of his army fatigues, bits of shrapnel and land mines. The idea
in Iran of martyrdom, a central tenet of Shi’a religion, and its impact on
society had astounded us western teachers as we had never seen anything like
this before. (
The most famous martyr
of the war was a thirteen-year-old boy, Mohammed Hossein Fahmideh, who was the
first suicide bomber in the Iran-Iraq War. He volunteered to fight with the
Iranian soldiers in the Battle of Khorramshahr on August 30, 1980. The Iranian
troops were suffering a heavy defeat as Iraqi tanks rained bombs down on them.
Fahmideh watched as fellow Iranians were cut down and in desperation, grabbed a
grenade from a fallen comrade, and threw himself under an advancing Iraqi tank.
The grenade damaged the tank and the tank brigade thought they were in an area
that was heavily mined, so they quickly pulled back from this advance. It was a
minor victory for the Iranians but it cost Fahmideh his life.
News spread quickly of
his valour in the face of unbeatable odds and he became a national hero. Imam
Khomeini often referred to Mohammed Fatmideh in his speeches to rally the
nation against the Iraqis during the war. A translation of Khomeini’s tribute
to the boy can be found on a marker in Teheran‘s Martyr Cemetery:
“I
am not the leader. The leader is that boy of thirteen who,
with
his little heart which was worth more than a hundred
pens
[his faith that is, was more valuable than any amount of
writing],
threw himself with a bomb under the tank and destroyed
the
tank, and drank the martyr’s glass and died.”
² ³ ²
While I was
photographing this compelling mural, a helicopter overhead was dropping what at
first I thought were yellow flower petals. But they were leaflets and people
were scurrying around grabbing them. I picked one up too, but of course it was
in Farsi. We thought it was a strange way for a government to communicate with
its citizens, especially on a national holiday. I wanted to get it translated.
However, at this point, Reza and Frozan showed up and herded us into the
confines of the Bogh’é-yé Shâh-é Cherâgh—finally!
² ³ ²
This is an excerpt from my upcoming book on a 1999 trip to Iran with George Evashuk and Brian Rose called Iran--Full of the Empty.
You can also read my other stories on the Way Beyond Borders site <www.waybeyondborders.com>
You can also read my other stories on the Way Beyond Borders site <www.waybeyondborders.com>
