The ongoing trial for 104 members of the notorious terrorist group, the Mujahedin Khalq Organization (MEK), has brought joy to the families and survivors of terrorism in Iran, including Manijeh.

The long-term follow-up of these survivors finally came to fruition and now their complaints will be inquired after several decades.

On the occasion of the International Day of Remembrance of and Tribute to the Victims of Terrorism, a day dedicated to honoring and supporting terror victims, we published the story of Manijeh Safi Yari, an Iranian terror victim who was seriously wounded during a terrorist attack carried out by the MKO in 1985.

This piece was formerly produced by Jamaran News in Persian, which was translated by Habilian Association to English for the first time. Her sorrowful story reads as follows:

She was 17, brimming with the youthful exuberance and hope that comes with adolescence. She envisioned a bright future for herself, one filled with higher education, athletic achievements, motherhood, and more. But then, the bomb exploded, aiming to shatter her dreams. Undeterred, she rose, held her head high, and declared to the bombers, “If you have come to wage war against my will, I will defeat you. I am an Iranian Muslim, and you are a terrorist.”

Around 8:30 am on May 12, 1985, a deafening explosion shook Naser Khosrow and the surrounding streets in Tehran, leaving everyone stunned. The cause of the blast was initially unknown, but its bitterness still lingers in the memories of the area’s long-time residents and shopkeepers, many of whom have likely passed away.

A TNT bomb planted in a vehicle detonated, engulfing a two-story building, a garment factory, 15 cars, and 25 shops in flames. The human tragedy that ensued was immeasurable. Ordinary people, out shopping, working to earn a living, or simply going about their day, were either killed or left permanently disabled. This was, and remains, the logic of those who claim to fight for the people while turning their guns on them.

Nine people were martyred, and 45 were injured in the explosion – a victory in the eyes of the Mujahedin Khalq Organization (aka MEK, MKO, PMOI). That same evening, as if celebrating a triumph, they claimed responsibility for the bombing. One of those who was present that day, a 17-year-old girl on her first trip to Tehran’s bazaar with her mother, was Manijeh Safi Yari. The following is based on a heartfelt conversation with her.

We finally managed to coordinate our schedules and formed a team of three: a journalist, a photographer, and a videographer. As we entered the home of Ms. Manijeh Safi Yari and her family, it felt as if all their warmth and enthusiasm had been poured into their words, making us feel like part of their extended family. Their welcome was warm and heartfelt. Ms. Safi Yari, leaning on a crutch, joined us in the living room and settled on the sofa. A gentle smile played on her lips. The old saying about how things work out in the end seemed particularly apt in this case.

Despite all the hardships, this couple fit together like pieces of a puzzle. It seemed as if God had created them for each other to find peace together. Due to Ms. Safi Yari’s injuries, the couple was unable to fulfill their dream of parenthood. However, their faith helped them navigate this challenge. There was no need for small talk or introductions. The family was so adept at sharing their story that questions came naturally, and Ms. Safi Yari answered them with a heartfelt openness.

On a spring day in 1985, a mother and her 17-year-old daughter had set out to experience Tehran’s bustling bazaar for the first time. As Manijeh was taking in her surroundings, a massive explosion threw her off her feet. She recounts believing she had been hit by a truck, only to realize it was an explosion.

Blood gushed from her leg, staining the ground, but Manijeh’s immediate concern was for her mother. Her mother was also injured, bleeding profusely from multiple wounds. A thick cloud of smoke and fire engulfed the area. With a voice strained from the shock, Manijeh repeatedly cried out, “What happened? What happened?” As she regained her senses, she realized her right leg was severely injured, barely attached by a thin strip of skin. Yet, her primary worry was for her mother. She felt like a lost child, separated from her mother in a crowded market. Moments later, her mother, covered in wounds, found and embraced her. Manijeh’s hands became stained with her mother’s blood, and she feared her mother had been shot in the heart. Panic seized her.

A vehicle arrived to take them away, and amid the chaos of fire and smoke, they were loaded onto the back of a pickup truck. Manijeh and several others were placed on the truck. Her mother would occasionally regain consciousness, but Manijeh remained alert, observing her surroundings. They arrived at Sina Hospital, and as the back of the truck was opened, a river of blood flowed out. Despite her injuries, Manijeh remained strong. Mother and daughter were separated, with Manijeh staying at Sina while her mother was taken to Imam Khomeini Hospital.

The country was at war, and modern medical facilities were scarce. Manijeh was taken to the operating room. The shock of the explosion had delayed the onset of anesthesia. After the fourth attempt, the anesthetic still had no effect on her. The doctor could wait no longer and had to begin the surgery. To distract her, he asked irrelevant questions like, “What did you have for breakfast?” Manijeh was losing patience and begged the doctor to amputate her leg. But the experienced doctor refused, insisting that they needed to save her leg and perform a graft. The surgery was completed, but Manijeh looked as if she had taken a sleeping pill.

Finally, Manijeh’s energy reserves were depleted, and she fell into a deep sleep. When she awoke around midnight, she was surrounded by concerned family members who had come to offer their support. A few days passed, and as soon as she was able, Manijeh visited the other injured patients. Sadly, some of them had succumbed to their injuries.

A week passed, and the doctor concluded that the leg would have to be amputated. Manijeh, a 17-year-old who had excelled in both track and basketball, couldn’t comprehend the idea of losing her leg. She had no idea what a prosthetic leg was and couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of her life without one.

She had big dreams: attending university, continuing her education, getting married, having children. But these dreams, or at least parts of them, felt like a crumbling wall. As she contemplated the full extent of the tragedy, her anger boiled over. She was furious at those who claimed to be Muslims yet had committed such a heinous act. She demanded that the doctor leave the room, insisting that she would not allow her leg to be amputated. Tears had flowed so freely that she felt emotionally drained, pushing even her parents away. In those moments, she craved solitude. She began to envision a future where she would navigate life with one leg, study, fall in love, become a mother, and raise a daughter. Although some aspects of that future would later prove to be unattainable, Manijeh learned to rely on faith. It was not just a matter of words but a deep-rooted belief that guided her actions.

An hour later, Manijeh found peace in the comfort of her home. She asked her aunt to braid her hair and called the doctor. She was ready to embrace a life with a prosthetic leg. At seventeen, Manijeh was beginning to truly understand the meaning of trust and reliance on a higher power just like those combatants in the war who had shown resilience amidst the blood and fire at such a young age.

Manijeh had made her decision. She would continue her life under the umbrella of faith. She studied and attended university. She connected with the families of other terror victims, and when an association for supporting victims of terrorism was formed, Manijeh became the representative for child victims. In international forums, anyone under eighteen is considered a child. Each time she participated in these gatherings; her story remained the same. As a final statement of protest, she would say, “The only thing not being respected here is human rights.”

Political maneuvering in international forums is evident even when discussing victims of terrorism. Safi Yari shared her experience in France, saying, “In international gatherings, I proposed that psychological counseling sessions be held for these victims, because terrorism doesn’t discriminate between Iran and France.”

“The frail old people who once formed the MEK terrorist group, now easily form panels in these gatherings and defend themselves, claiming they have done nothing wrong, or if they have, it was completely justified. Can this really be called defending human rights? Do we all have to hit our heads against a stone, like Albania, to come to our senses?”

Ms. Safi Yari says, “After 42 years, we have finally been able to file a lawsuit against the perpetrators of the Haft-e Tir bombing at the International Court of Justice, but it has not yet been successful.”

Her wish is that the pleas for justice of the young children martyred at Bahrami Hospital as a result of Baathist regime’s bombing, the old and young who were killed in street assassinations, and others will one day be heard. She hopes to see the MKO discredited and that no country will provide them with refuge. She dreams of European and American countries having the courage to label them as terrorists.