Photos:
My Best Friends Are Workers
(Martyr Sattary's Memories)
My best friends in the Air Force are workers. We know all those people who work down there. I belong amongst them. I am not from some other place. I remember, after my father's death we had no one to take care of us (my mother and four minors).
We had an uncle (on my mother's side) who was an employee of the army and lived in Mashhad and his job was repairing tanks. He sold his house and moved to Tehran. From that day till his death I thought of him as my father. (My wife is his daughter).
He worked at the tank maintenance department. He was a petty simple worker smeared with oil. But how surprisingly he repaired tanks! When now I look at the faces of the old men who do technical work, my uncle's face appears before my eyes. The pure humans, the true believers and God lovers, one of the reasons why I still like my workers and soldiers is when I look at their faces, their callous hands, their palms, their knee patches and their torn sleeves. I remember everything. I know what it means to work all night because I myself have experienced it. Not every eye can see this. I understand what freezing means, what it means to have frozen fingertips.
I believe bragging is not godly. This won't lead to success. If God forbid our evolution should part with people, it is finished. At least it would no longer be the Imam's revolution. That Imam saw everything in people, because he belonged to
people and did not consider people other than himself.
My best friends in the Air Force are workers. We know all those people who work down there. I belong amongst them. I am not from some other place. I remember, after my father's death we had no one to take care of us (my mother and four minors).
We had an uncle (on my mother's side) who was an employee of the army and lived in Mashhad and his job was repairing tanks. He sold his house and moved to Tehran. From that day till his death I thought of him as my father. (My wife is his daughter).
He worked at the tank maintenance department. He was a petty simple worker smeared with oil. But how surprisingly he repaired tanks! When now I look at the faces of the old men who do technical work, my uncle's face appears before my eyes. The pure humans, the true believers and God lovers, one of the reasons why I still like my workers and soldiers is when I look at their faces, their callous hands, their palms, their knee patches and their torn sleeves. I remember everything. I know what it means to work all night because I myself have experienced it. Not every eye can see this. I understand what freezing means, what it means to have frozen fingertips.
I believe bragging is not godly. This won't lead to success. If God forbid our evolution should part with people, it is finished. At least it would no longer be the Imam's revolution. That Imam saw everything in people, because he belonged to
people and did not consider people other than himself.
