In Iran, Mothers
Dream of Missing Sons

Fatemeh Behboudi grew up surrounded by grief. She was born in Tehran during the 1980-88 war between Iran and Iraq. As the bodies of missing soldiers were discovered years after the war, her family attended mass funerals in their honor. Later, she covered these rites as a photographer.

Throughout the crowds of families and mothers, there were always anger and sadness. But among a select few, there was also a glimmer hope. Ms. Behboudi, 28, was drawn to a group of tearful women she saw time and again — mothers who still hoped to find the sons who had never made it home.

She wondered, “How is it possible that this pain and this love is still fresh?”

Thousands of Iranian soldiers went missing between 1980 and 1988. Ms. Behboudi has photographed 20 Iranian mothers in nine cities whose sons, considered martyrs in Iran, never came home. Many of the women believe that they communicate with their sons in their dreams. A few of them have located their sons’ remains after such a vision. It is a phenomenon Ms. Behboudi had difficulty believing at first.

“I don’t have any answers for this, and it puts me in doubt about my philosophy and my existence,” she said. “And about what is the truth.”

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Anbar Jaberi, the mother of Nematollah Jaberi, has waited 23 years for news of her son.
Anbar Jaberi, the mother of Nematollah Jaberi, has waited 23 years for news of her son.Credit Fatemeh Behboudi
Her resulting project, “Mothers of Patience,” an idea she refined in the Joop Swart Masterclass conducted by World Press Photo in 2013, won a first-place award in the Pictures of the Year International competition this year.

Most of her subjects are now in their early 70s. Ms. Behboudi photographed some of them for a couple of days, but with others, who have grown sick and weak, she could ask for no more than a few hours. She spent hours looking over her photos, often in tears. The project made her think about other wars that have torn families apart — not just in Iran and Iraq, but also around the world.

“There were mothers like this always in our history,” she said. “And history repeats. Mothers go through the same story and suffer.”

And they keep hoping, despite the pain.

In one image, Anbar Jaberi, one mother whose story is included in the series, is shown standing by a door, the light streaming in and illuminating her face (Slide 1). Ms. Jaberi, who lives in Ilam Province, hopes that if the door is left open, someone will come with news of her son, Nematollah, who had been missing for 23 years.

While the image seems exceptional, Ms. Behboudi said that every mother she photographed felt a similar kind of hope. “They keep opening the door,” she said. “And sitting or standing by doors.”

They have faith that someone will come bringing news of their sons.

Six months ago, Ms. Behboudi dreamed she had received a phone call. The voice on the line told her that the first mother she photographed, Zarrintaj Bahrami, was going to find her son. When she awoke, she called Ms. Bahrami.

“I’m sure that you will find him,” Ms. Behboudi said.

Three months later, DNA tests helped locate the body of Ms. Bahrami’s son, Behrouz Sabouri, who had disappeared 31 years earlier. Ms. Behboudi was there when Ms. Bahrami received the phone call (Slide 5).

“I just hugged her and I just put my camera aside,” Ms. Behboudi said.

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Many mothers keep their son's photos, clothes and other belongings, to help bring them solace. Anbar Jaberi cried as she embraced some of her son Nematollah's clothing.
Many mothers keep their son's photos, clothes and other belongings, to help bring them solace. Anbar Jaberi cried as she embraced some of her son Nematollah's clothing.Credit Fatemeh Behboudi
Ms. Behboudi grew up watching her father with his camera in hand. He had studied photography in his youth and traveled to the mountains when she was young to shoot landscapes.

When she was about 20, her father encouraged her to pursue a career in art. She spent the next two years studying photography at the University of Tehran and in 2007 started working as a news photographer, covering events in Tehran for Iranian news agencies. More recently, she has been working as a freelancer.

Last year, Ms. Behboudi left Iran for the first time when she traveled to Amsterdam. Yet since she attended the master class, she said, she has been getting fewer assignments within Iran. She has used the extra time to pursue personal documentary work. She wants to keep exploring the deep and lasting pain of war — not just at home, but elsewhere in the world.

Soon, she plans to photograph Iraqi mothers who lost their sons in the same bloody conflict, a topic she hadn’t initially planned to pursue. But after spending time with so many women whose stories have striking similarities — all of them touched by both pain and hope — she had second thoughts.

“A mother is a mother,” she said. “And I want to examine this feeling.”

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Every new year, Iranian people and mothers go to war zones, places that have many martyrs. They believe this is holy ground.
Every new year, Iranian people and mothers go to war zones, places that have many martyrs. They believe this is holy ground.Credit Fatemeh Behboudi
Ms. Behboudi spoke through a translator, Nafise Motlaq, who also works as a photojournalist. Both were attending the Obscura Photo Festival in Malaysia.