My real life story during Iran Israel war recently
I’m an Iranian astrophysicist abroad. All my family and friends are in Iran. This is my personal story of how do Iranians feel about Israel now and they’re affected by the recent war. (This is Part 2 of my personal stories. Read Part 1)
My phone never leaves my hand. Especially during sleep, because I was constantly worried if they hit our apartment or if Tehran gets completely destroyed. Every alert might mean my family is gone.
At the observatory everyone is new; I do not yet feel safe sharing my feelings. During shifts I swallow tears, focus on checklists, and point the telescope to the targets listed for each night.
After work I lock my door and cry alone. Back in Berlin I have a loving partner and supporting friends, but here I am in a Namibian Desert, observing the night sky every night while my loved ones in Iran pray the sky stays dark.
My family in Iran israel war
Two nights ago the domestic airport near my sister’s apartment hit directly. At four in the morning my sister, her husband, and their eight-year-old son ran down in the stairs to get into their car and leave somewhere safer. My nephew was so anxious that he was about to vomit and he didn’t let his parents to hold him.
They drove across the city to her mother-in-law’s office, the only place that felt safe. Two days ago, they everyone in my family went to a hotel an hour outside Tehran. When they texted “We’re have arrived,” I slept for the first time in days.
On the phone my sister finally cried in my father’s arms: “Only now do I believe we are really at war.” My nephew whispered, “Auntie, when the war ends and our apartment is still there, will you play with me?”
He is eight and already asks the difference between a drone and a missile. My niece wants to cross into Iraq so I can fetch her; she asks what to do if her parents die.
My niece was asking me to come to her. She said that she can go to Iraq and asked if I can pick her up there. I wanted to cry in that moment at how unsafe she was feeling, also asking me what she should do if her parents die.
I still have deadlines: a scientific paper to submit and a conference abstract for the fall. But all of this work requires focus and the ability to think. The only thing I’m focused on right now is my family and friends and what’s happening in Iran.
I told my supervisor. When the words “My family isn’t safe” left my mouth, I broke down; she cried too. She said the deadline can still wait and I should take it easy on myself.
My real life story during iran israel war
Maybe it’s good that I’m in Namibia now, because I can’t do research. Doing observation shifts is easier because it’s technical work, which usually follow a to-do list and don’t require as much focus as doing a scientific project needs.
I thought about going back to Europe to get more emotional support, but if I go back, there is no replacement for me here, and the people who work here need to work more to compensate for me. It’s not fair to them. That’s why I decided to stay.
My dad once told me about a day on the war front. He and a few soldiers were in one of the cities on the border of Iran. They wanted to have lunch. First, they moved the bodies out of the way. Then they noticed they were missing salad. So one man hopped in a helicopter, flew off, got some salad, and came back.
Dad told this story to show that even in war, life keeps moving—people still work, marry, eat, and laugh. I think now this is what I need to learn; to live a life like my family and friends do under the drones in the war.
I’m thousands of kilometers away, without bombs over my head, but I don’t feel truly safe until my Iranian family is safe. Everything here feels like an illusion sometimes and it feels like the real world is where they are.
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