Aug 11, 2019, 8:44 AM
Journalist ID: 2078
News Code: 83429967
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Mahmoud Saremi, cause of National Journalists Day

Tehran, August 11, IRNA - Devoted journalist of IRNA, Mahmoud Saremi, his lovely character, his professional career, his martyrdom in Afghanistan by the Taliban terrorists, his entire family life and separation from his only son is the cause of National Reporters' Day.

“My name is Mahmoud Saremi. I’m IRNA’s correspondent. Mazar-i Sharif has fallen into the hands of Taliban”. What was supposed to be the start of a news report turned into his last sentence.

IRNA reporter in the Afghanistan was killed in a Taliban raid on Iran’s Consulate General in Mazar Sharif on August 8, 1998 in total disregard of the international norms and the diplomatic immunity enshrined by the Charter of the United Nations.  

What he was seeing before his eyes at the time was a mix of professional values, beliefs, excitement caused by the battlefield risk and personal sentiments that were seen only by him. 

But, he didn't have enough time to tell us about any of these. If he had had time, he could have shown us how the Afghan city fell into the hands of Taliban, how women and children were telling as they fled their houses, how the brave people of Mazar-i Sharif defended their city to their last breath.

He could have also told us about the dangers of being in a battlefield or about his personal feelings at the time. 

He couldn't even say the last farewell to his only son. Maybe he saw his son flash in front of his eyes in a moment, even less. 

Saying the last goodbye to the dearest is what one wants before his death but Saremi didn't have that either. 

What he might have been feeling is the short moments between hello and goodbye, anger and love and to be and not to be. These dark moments that can't be lit by any light; these moments that deafen the ears; the moments of life. 

These moments are so short that can't even flash in front of eyes; childhood, adulthood.

The situation gets that tough that one wants it to end rapidly but every moment lasts so long that it seems like a lifetime itself. 

As if the time never wants to pass. The enemy has tightened the noose, you can't see or anything; you can't remember anything. You start to breathe but can't as if there is no breath. 

Saremi left us like a firm-standing eagle that seeks the sky. 

These are the last moments of Saremi's life. 

May he rest in peace


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