Ayatollah Khamenei Visits
The Family of martyr Galust Babumian
Visit Date: 1989/12/28
The Photo of
Martyr Galust Babumian
Martyred during Ahvaz Aerial Bombing
Martyred on 1980/10/9
Galust says good-bye to his colleagues at the Oil Company and carrying a file of official document goes out of his office; the company building is almost deserted for most of the native residents have fled out of fear. Galust had been with the Oil Company for some 30 years at the Computer Department. He was most active during the days of Revolution and workers strikes and now at this critical juncture his presence and experience were crucial for the administration of the company and the continued flow of oil for the country. He surely missed his old mother, his wife and his son and daughter, Varuzhan and Talin. They had to leave the city some 20 days earlier. He had sent them to his brother’s house in Tehran when the war started. The previous evening he had telephoned his mother who insisted that he should return to Tehran as soon as possible: “My dearest son, the Iraqis will capture Ahvaz in a short time, and then you can’t imagine what they will do to you. Those Iraqi Baathists are not like the Iranian Muslims. Yesterday our neighbor Zahra Khanum said that these people were the descendants of those who murdered Imam Hussein and Abolfazl, his brother. My son, you are not a military man, so you must come to Tehran soon.” Obvious motherly sentiments! And he had said: “Okay I’ll come to Tehran soon.” Indeed he was telling the truth as he had been ordered to take some important documents that very evening by train. But the mother did know that he was going to Tehran for one day only and had to return to Ahvaz the following day as the refinery in Ahvaz was under constant fire and he had to be there to help. He had somehow comforted his mother but how about the children? Varuzhan was about 10 years of age and Talin was only 6. How sweet she was, as when speaking, he would mix up Persian and Armenian words in a most pleasant, childish way. After his phone call, he picked up the children’s photos that were in a frame.
Tears came into his eyes but when he watched the television narrating what was going on during the 17th day after the war and showing columns of fire and smoke above the refinery installation, he was upset and angry and became more determined to continue his work in Ahvaz after the one-day visit to Tehran.
The train station was extraordinarily crowded: The war-strikes, frightened people who were leaving their own city with sacks and bundles on their backs and shoulder, and the soldier and officers and people’s militia who had arrived to fight the invading enemy all moving in and out the station. Galoust had not yet got on the train when he heard loud sirens and then he saw an Iraqi plain circling the sky. There were no anti-aircraft guns in the city and so the plane flew over the people and dropped his bombs.
Galoust only saw some black spots coming down from the fighter-plane; three bombs exploded in front of the station. Galoust realized that he could not move, the very last images in his eyes were the picture of his children Varuzhan and Talin and his wife and his mother.
The people wandered about like locusts, the train which was to take them to Tehran was in flames and the station building was half-destroyed.
The first person who noticed Galoust found out that his face and the upper parts of his body were all burnt out. He was horrified, he had never seen such sights, he did not want to believe that he was murdered. He said: oh, dear Muslim! We’ll soon take you to hospital, God willing you’ll be all right. My name is Qassem, what’s yours, do you hear me? But Galoust could not utter a word.
Blood covered him and the pavement about him. Qassem tried to find out his identity by searching his clothes and his pockets. Before everything he torched a cross around his neck and the identification card in his pockets. “Oh, My God, you’re a Christian, Mr. Galoust? And cried out: May God damn Saddam Hussein!”
Varuzhan and his uncle were waiting for the arrival of Ahvaz train at the Tehran Railway Station, but no train appeared. They started asking the officials about this delay and found out that the Ahvaz train station had been bombed and so no train would arrive from Ahvaz. The 10 year-old Varuzhan could never imagine that he would never see his father again. Finally they decided to go home and wait for a phone-call from Galoust himself. But the telephone never rang till midnight. The children and their mother had fallen asleep. Hasmik suddenly started crying and shouting in her sleep. She had a nightmare of a plane flying low about to hit her and the children. She was sweating badly and the frightened children held each other’s hands. The uncle’s wife and the grand-mother brought her some sugared-hot water and tried to comfort her. It was hours into morning when the telephone rang. Hasmik put her hand on her heart and the uncle answered the phone. And they all began to cry and wail! Hasmik was stunned and she kept calling her husband until the following day: Galoust, Galoust, Galoust…surprisingly Galoust in Armenian Means “the good news of coming back” but he did not return.
Later she said: “From then onwards I had to be both a mother and a father to my children and the motivation of children’s education gave me strength. Galoust’s mother and brothers helped me tremendously and supported the children”.
Galoust’s mother, since that fatal year, had always spent Christmas at his tomb for some 9 years, but she passed away a few weeks ago before the 10th year of her son’s martyrdom and was let to rest next to her son.
The year 1989 began almost 7 months after the demise of Imam Khomeini and still a sad atmosphere ruled throughout Iran, The Armenians say: even we as Christians cannot believe The Imam’s departure; We are all heart-broken by seeing the young combatants who have just come back from the war-fronts; anyway, we don’t celebrate Christmas this year too, because of Galoust’s mother.
The visit
It was Thursday when we were informed that some high official would visit us if we happen to be home in the evening. I informed Galoust’s brother and my sister’s husband and asked to come to my place in the afternoon. Varuzhan and Talin were not happy at the news as they were very busy with their exams. Varuzhan is studying medicine and Talin has high-school examinations. They both study well as they know how much importance I attach to their education. When Varuzhan succeeded in his medical studies and became a medical student, I felt that all my efforts in the absence of Galoust had born fruit. I was spiritually elevated and congratulated him. He is also very proud of his success and says that in the process of his acceptance, there was no discrimination between the sons of Muslim or Armenian martyrs. Talin went to a friend’s house to study together and Varuzhan went to his college as he has to pass a microbiology exam.
We are impatiently waiting for our guest. We had already heard that the President had visited some Armenian homes in previous years. We guessed that our guest this evening may also be the President. But we found out our guest was the same President who also had now become the Leader after the Imam’s demise. I was now very upset for the absence of the children, for if they know this, they would have certainly stayed at home to meet him.
Ayatollah Khamenei arrives and says ‘salaam’ to all of us and then he, together with Galoust’s brother and my brother-in-law and some of his companions sit down in our guest-room.
Varuzhan comes home about 11 p.m. I tell him: How are you, doc.
ـ Do you know what you missed this evening?
ـ What’s happened, mum?
ـ Didn’t I tell you we are receiving a guest this evening.
ـ Well, what could I do when we have difficult exams. Anyway, who were the guests?
ـ You won’t believe it, Mr. Khamenei was here in person. I was heart- broken you were not present. I don’t think you’ll ever meet him so close.
He looks at me in wonder. I think whatever he had studied flew out of his mind. But he comes to me and embraces me.
Name of us is able to say anything and the Leader, sensing this, starts speaking and asks: Is this gentleman the father of your martyr?
And he points at Galoust’s photos on the wall. As most Armenian martyrs were young soldiers, The Leader thinks that this older man must be the father of the martyr.
I say calmly: No, this is the photo of martyr himself.
I see, says the Leader; he is the martyr.
Yes, I say.
ـ Are you the wife of the martyr?
ـ Yes.
It was so difficult for me to speak. I had never spoken to an ordinary Muslim cleric but now the highest spiritual authority is sitting in front of me. I was standing and I intended to go to the kitchen to bring some tea. But the Leader does not allow this and says: please sit down here.
I say “thank you” and sit down on the couch on the right side of the Leader. I have strange mixed feelings: of happiness, of shame and of pride. I wish Galoust would witness this scene, oh, I am sure he sees us.
ـ How are you, lady?
ـ Fine, thank you.
ـ Where was Mr. Galoust martyred?
ـ Ahvaz
ـ When was he martyred?
17-th of the month of Mehr, that is, three weeks after the war began.
ـ Was he employee there?
ـ Yes, he was.
I loved to talk about Galoust’s character and morals but I can’t, oh, if my heart was not beating so fast.
The Leader then asks about the relationship of the two persons, sitting next him, to the martyr.
We answer that one is the martyr’s brother and the other is his brother-in-law.
Then the Leader says: May God bless your martyr and make this New Year and the birth-anniversary of Jesus Christ most pleasing to all your family.
We all thank him.
The Leader then says: please tell me about your husband’s occupation.
He was an employee of the Oil Company in Ahvaz and he was martyred there.
He then asks about the occupation of Galoust’s brother and the brother-in-law and then turns to me and enquires whether I own my own house and also about the children. The Leader is most pleased that they both are students and that they follow their education enthusiastically. From the corner of my eyes, I look at Galoust’s photo and smile.
ـ Your children, are they sons or daughters?
ـ One son and one daughter.
ـ Aren’t they around?
ـ No, we weren’t told that you would honour us with your visit; they would have definitely stayed at home.
ـ You’re right, it is the rule not to give exact information.
I smile and think to myself that if we were informed as to who our guest is, then all of our friends, relations and neighbours would have come to our house! I further explain that both my children are at present very busy with taking exams.
ـ What does your son study?
ـ Medicine.
ـ I hope that he will succeed to become a good doctor, and your daughter?
ـ She is at high school.
The Leader looks around the rooms and says: Here I don’t see anything showing that it is your New Year.
Galoust’s brother explains: Our mother has recently passed away.
ـ I see. My God Almighty, through his boundless mercy, bless all those who are gone and may God reward you and your family.
I then go to the kitchen to pour some tea and I hear that the Leader is talking with the brothers about the New Year, about the Armenian community, our churches and our representatives in the Parliament.
It is obvious that the Leader tries to create a warm, friendly atmosphere because he felt that it was not easy for us to say things. I notice that Mr. Khamenei’s information and knowledge about Armenians and about Christianity is far deeper than many of us!
I come out of the kitchen carrying the tray of tea-cups but one of Leader’s companions takes it from my hands and serves all in the room. I bring another photo of Galoust and give it to Mr. Khamenei. In this photo Galoust is very well-dressed and smiling.
I say: This is another photo of our martyr.
ـ I see, what is his full name?
ـ Galoust Bobumian.
ـ What age was he?
ـ Forty-eight. He started his job with the Oil Company at the age of 18. Therefore he had worked there for some 30 years.
After I utter these words, I feel as if I was choked, I don’t want my weeping to be seen. So, I go into the kitchen pretending I was going to bring something to serve my guests. Therein I allow my eyes to be wet with tears.
On the Leader’s side, the conversation is about the Armenian bishop and the differences between the ceremonies of Armenians and the Assyrian Christians. I am waiting to calm down but before that the Leader says: Well, tell this lady to come and sit with us for a while, we must be shortly leaving, but this lady constantly goes into the kitchen! Tell her we’re about to leave.
Quickly I gather myself together. I go back. The Leader has drunk the tea together with a piece of cake, I say I went to bring them some fruits but he asks me to please sit down and adds: We don’t want to be served. The purpose of our visit was to sit down with you for a few moments to relieve you of the grief caused by your husband’s sacrifice to give up his life for this country’s ideals. I should truly extend my condolences to you. Our visit should serve this purpose. You should not be troubled to serve us.
I, together with Galoust’s brother and my brother-in law are all most impressed by Khamenei’s simplicity and humility.
The Leader and people present in the room were talking about the churches throughout Iran. Mr. Khamenei tells us about his visit of our church in Jolfa, Isfahan. He says: I visited the Armenian Church in Jolfa. It was in the year 1958 when I travelled to Isfahan from Qum. I visited two churches there .One of the two churches was huge and very beautiful; its gong was located in the middle of the yard. In the smaller church a burial ceremony was being held. Two other theological students also accompanied me. Before entering the church, we asked a church servant whether we were allowed to go in and he said “no problem!” Of course people there could tell that we, wearing turbans, were not Armenians! They treated us in a most friendly way. We stayed there till the end of the ceremony. There are many churches in this city.
Galoust’s brother explains: The exact number of churches there is 12 and the big one you mentioned is the Central Church.
Finally the Leader says: Well, lady, may God give you more patience and reward and success in your life so that you will be in the position to bring up your children and turn them into valuable, efficient and skillful persons. I hope these children could be examples of serving our country and may, in showing affection and love towards you, take the place of their father, God bless you all. These words and prayer by the Leader impresses me and I say “Amen” in my heart.
The Leader then rises from his chair and says good-bye to all of us. His behaviour and manners were so simple and intimate that now I was no more anxious and my heart had calmed. Now I wished that this visit could have gone on for hours. I wished I could tell him more about Galoust’s character and Varuzhan’s similarity to his father but there was no more time as he was leaving when such thoughts went through my head. At the door I thank him many more times. I wanted to go out of the house following him but the Leader’s companions tell me not to, because they do not want to attract attention. After the Leader’s departure, we were all silent for a while as we could not believe that, a few minutes ago, the highest spiritual authority was drinking and conversing intimately in our house.
I take out a small photo of Galoust from my purse and gaze at it for a few minutes. Now I’m only wandering what to say to my children when they came home.