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“We wanted to stay in hiding, even though we were getting sick,” Nasreen said. “My uncle said we should go outside,” Nasreen said. We were getting red eyes, and some of us had liquid coming out of them.
“We wanted to wash ourselves off and find water to drink,” she said. We couldn’t decide whether to drink the water or not, but some people drank the water from the well they were so thirsty.”They ran in a panic through the city, Nasreen recalled, in the direction of Anab.
In another neighborhood, Muhammad Ahmed Fattah, who was twenty, was overwhelmed by an oddly sweet odor of sulfur, and he, too, realized that he must evacuate his family; there were about a hundred and sixty people wedged into the cellar. He had acquired from a clinic two syringes of atropine, a drug that helps to counter the effects of nerve agents. “At least I should bury my new wife.”After hours of searching, Bakhtiar met some neighbors, who remembered seeing Nasreen and the children moving toward the mosque on the hill. Everybody was blind.”Nasreen had lost her sight about an hour or two before Bakhtiar found her. I gave the atropine to this woman.” Asme died soon afterward. “I could have.”After the Iraqi bombardment subsided, the Iranians managed to retake Halabja, and they evacuated many of the sick, including Nasreen and the others in her family, to hospitals in Tehran. “I was thinking the whole time, Where is my family? “The Red Crescent has an album of the people who were buried in Iran,” Nasreen said. We don’t talk about this in our society, but eventually a lot of women in the hospital confessed they were also menstruating and couldn’t stop.” Doctors gave her drugs that stopped the bleeding, but they told her that she would be unable to bear children.
He injected himself with one of the syringes, and set out to find Nasreen. She had been searching the house for food, so that she could feed the children, when her eyesight failed. “And we found my mother in one of the albums.” Her father, she discovered, was alive but permanently blinded. Nasreen would live, the doctors said, but she kept a secret from Bakhtiar: “When I was in the hospital, I started menstruating. Nasreen stayed in Iran for several months, but eventually she and Bakhtiar returned to Kurdistan. “He was healthy at first, but he had a hole in his heart.
The attack had ebbed by about two o’clock, and Nasreen made her way carefully upstairs to the kitchen, to get the food for the family.
“At the end of the bombing, the sound changed,” she said. It was like pieces of metal just dropping without exploding.
Iranian Revolutionary Guards then infiltrated the city, and the residents assumed that an Iraqi counterattack was imminent. One had a regular camera, and the other held what looked like a video camera. Then they went away.”Nasreen thought that the sight was strange, but she was preoccupied with lunch; she and her sister Rangeen were preparing rice, bread, and beans for the thirty or forty relatives who were taking shelter in the cellar. Nasreen was just sixteen, but her father had married her off several months earlier, to a cousin, a thirty-year-old physician’s assistant named Bakhtiar Abdul Aziz.