Zahra Abbas Al Badri

Born in Baghdad in 1940, the regime executed her husband, son, and daughter who was pregnant when arrested. A large number of her family members were also imprisoned and 23 of them - including young boys - were executed. She later hid two of her sons in a special room in her house for 23 years. Zahra, who endured constant harassment from Iraqi Intelligence, worked as a seamstress to support those remaining of her family. Her testimony was recorded in Baghdad on November, 10th 2004.

interview
Part 2

10.00.40
I have not had one good day in my life. I have been through so much during these years, and worked very hard as well. My life is very complicated, a never- ending saga of pain and sadness. I cannot bear much more pain. I went through a traumatic time with the death of my daughter and son. My son was executed. I was told that my daughter, who was four months’ pregnant died of a hemorrhage in the arms of my sister-in-law. She died of fear in prison before they could interrogate her. That’s all I know of her.
10.01.37

10.01.40
He (the intelligence officer) asked me if I had relatives in the city of Amara? I said no but that I had passed through the city on my way to do the pilgrimage to Mecca. I didn’t mention that my son-in-law worked at the hospital there until I knew what was going on. When he persisted in his questioning I told him about my son-in-law He wanted to know all about him and his family. He called his senior officer at the intelligence headquarters and told him that there was only my daughter and I at home. I understood that the officer told him to let me go and take my daughter in. They took me back home but I refused to get out of the car. He pleaded with me; telling me that she was like their sister and they would bring her back. I insisted on going with her. I said I would sit outside the room while they were interrogating her and even stay all night with her if needs be…..What can I say? Gods’ will is done. This is our fate.
10.03.11

10.03.14
I would return from looking for my son Mohammed exhausted and cry until I had no more tears. I searched for him everywhere and became ill in the process. Wherever I went in search of him they denied any knowledge of him but I knew they did because people had seen him been taken away. Then they informed me that my husband and daughter had been executed. They didn’t tell me about Mohammed. They informed his uncle first then gave me his nationality certificate cut in half and said this person no longer existed. He had been executed.
10.04.02

10.04.05
I didn’t say anything when I was told. I couldn’t believe it. Was it feasible that they had executed Mohammed just like that? I asked for his body, that of his fathers’ and sister. They didn’t respond and there was no point in asking again so I left. Sabihas’ death affected me most because she was a girl and my daughter. That is when I spoke out. I said to the senior officer and a lieutenant called Abbas “How could you execute an innocent girl? Have you no fear of God? No conscious at all? The officer said that perhaps her husband had used her naivety to get her to work for him. I told them that they were determined to prove, by force, that she was working against the government. I told them that God forbids what they had done.
10.05.03

10.05.05
The Intelligence sent for me the next day. ”You work for strangers, not your country” They said; why are the Al Badri family such traitors? I said” What have I done? Have you heard me say anything against you? He said; No but you should have informed us that your brother had been in contact with you. I said; He had only sent his regards. He said; Even so. We understand greetings in a different context. I said; I didn’t know that and anyway there were other people there when it happened so if I had told you, you would have said you knew already.” That’s not your business. You have to inform us next time your brother sends word or you will meet your fate; he threatened me.
10.06.00

10.06.04
There were two men standing on either side of me. The officer was sitting on a chair interrogating me. Another sat with his hands behind his head, swiveling in his chair. He asked me about each member of my family, then about my sons. He asked sarcastically if I had sent my sons, Sa’ad and Ibrahim to their grandfather the Khomeini? I said; No, you have them. Don’t lie; he shouted at me. The intelligence people can terrify a person, not necessarily by actions, but just by the way they speak. But God gave me the strength and will. I don’t know how but I managed to control myself. I remained silent most of the time, replying only as much as the question required. I kept saying that they had my sons. He was ranting at me; saying my family was a pit hole of treason and so on. He didn’t swear though. He used civilized language. He warned me that if I didn’t confess he would send me to his boss and then I would know what fate had in store for me. I started crying. I took a sip from a water bottle I had with me, as my mouth was dry. He screamed at me: What are you drinking? May God punish them and Saddam for what they did to me.
10.07.55

10.08.00 Showing family photos
This is my daughter. This is my husband. This is Mohammed. This one is my son-in-law.
Continues straight thro
10.08.34
This is the whole family. The photo at the top is of my father.Then, my brothers and nephews. Below are my daughter, son, their father, and my son-in-law. A rose represents my sister-in-law, as we couldn’t find a photo of her.

10.09.09
This is our tragic story. They were all so young. The youngest were these two who were just kids when they took them away, 12 and 13 years old. Haider, their older brother was 14. Ahmed, my other brothers’ boy was also 13. Their mother described the scene when they took them away. It was so moving I broke down and asked her never to repeat it in front of me. They came to arrest Ahmed, Issas’ son and Nours’ son after they returned from Iran. They put handcuffs on Ahmed and Ali, her son. At first the boys laughed when they saw the handcuffs but then as they took them away her son turned to her and said; Mummy, help me. Mummy, help me.
They took her younger son away also. He was eleven years old. She screamed and cried and beat herself and almost broke the cell door over her children. In the end they asked that her youngest be reunited with her just to shut her up. She was driving them mad. They returned three of her children to her, including her daughter who was the eldest. But they wouldn’t give her Haider and Ali however much she sobbed and begged for her boys.
I can never forget when Ali turned to her and said: Mummy, help me.
It was a difficult situation.


The End