“God allows us to experience the low points of life in order to
teach us lessons we could not learn in any other way. The
way we learn those lessons is not to deny the feelings but to
find the meanings underlying them.”
Stanley Lindquist
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High School
After going back to live at my father’s house again, things
were starting to change for the better. Sharifeh was making a turn
around and for whatever the reason, she stayed home most of the
time. She would occasionally leave town for short periods of time
to go and visit her other daughter in her home town. Her
endeavors usually consisted of being gone only for a day or two.
She never questioned us about wanting to travel to see our
grandmother or anywhere else for that matter. We had an
unwritten rule not to question one another about where we were
going and simply just coexist. I was an excellent cook by then
and even if she did leave town, we were very much capable of
caring for ourselves. My father still made an appearance
approximately every 6 months. He arrived without any notice and
usually left without a good bye, but I was used to this by now
because it was very typical of him.
My cousin Parisa came to visit with us, and at times she
would stay a week at a time. Parisa was in the same age and
grade as Neda and together they usually studied very hard. Like
Neda she was academically motivated and an overachiever.
Sayareh and I still struggled in high school. Neda was very close
to finishing high school and we were raised to not only go to
college, but aim high educationally and be better than the
generations before. Unlike other countries where the decision to
go to school is an option, in Iran, you basically have to have a
college degree in order to make any decent money. Without a
degree a person is limited to minimum pay, dead-end jobs. In
addition, a man who did not qualify to go to college regardless of
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reasons behind it was not likely to be able to marry a high quality
bride. Girls who were beautiful or come from well known
respectable families were usually arranged to marry men who
have either wealth or higher education or both. Some students
are very smart, but because they have to work to support their
family, do not have the time or opportunity to devote 4 years to
school. It could be that they may have lost the father or the main
bread winner of the family. It is the son who typically assumes
responsibility to work and make ends meet, in the event of the
father’s death, which means he will not be able to continue his
own education. Decision to go to higher education was not an
option as far as most people in big cities in Iran are concerned.
Your only choice is the major you will pick. In some families
children didn’t even have the choice of major and were dictated
and expected to become doctors, engineers, or a lawyers. Some
parents would force their children to take these majors in hopes of
having a better future financially and to increase the status of their
family. For example my cousin was forced to become a surgeon
and every time I saw her, she would verbalize how much she
hates her job and how resentful she was that she had to become
a doctor only to make her parents happy. Of course people in
smaller towns had different agendas which usually included
farming, getting married, and raising a family. Neda definitely
wanted to go to college and perhaps either major in architectural
studies, physical therapy or business.
I was certainly convinced that my calling is to be a nurse and
had planned to go to a city near the Caspian Sea called Sari. I
chose that location because it was so green, tropical and beautiful
there. Sari also had a very reputable nursing university. Sayareh
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was undecided about what she wanted to do, however, she often
found the subjects of accounting and math interesting. We all
looked forward to a big national test called “Konkoor”. Konkoor
was a test all students had to take right after graduation from high
school to determine if they qualify to go to public universities. It
was a nationwide test, taking place the same day, same time all
over Iran. In Iran there are not enough universities to
accommodate all students; therefore, Konkoor is a process to pick
out the best and the smartest. Students have to declare ten
choices from the most desired major to the least desired, and
based on the Konkoor score, they may or may not qualify for all or
any of the desired majors, in the desired locations all around the
country. Those who did not get good enough Konkoor scores to
go to public universities had the option to take Konkoor for private
universities, with very high tuitions, however obviously the cost
was something not everyone could afford. When the time came
for Neda to take Konkoor, she studied for weeks both days and
nights. At the end she took Konkoor the same day and found out
that she was accepted into a private university called Melli
University in Tehran majoring in Business Administrations. This
was Neda’s 2nd choice.
High school was the best part of my childhood as I had
several close friends and the freedom to do what I wanted. I no
longer was haunted by fear of being alone, and anxiety over how
to get by from one day to another to survive hunger and cold.
With high school came hope of the future and a new era in my
life. The name of the high school was Kharazmi and it was an all
girl’s private high school centered in the heart of Tehran and a lot
of rich people would send their children to that school. We had
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several senators, generals, doctors, and other high status family’s
kids attending that school. There were many snobs in my
classes, but I had a circle of wonderful, down to earth friends. My
best friend was Soraya who was in the same class with me since
6th grade. She was a very beautiful but shy girl who had a very
distinctive voice. It sounded like her voice never developed into a
voice of an adult woman. If you heard her on the phone she could
be easily mistaken for a child. Due to this impediment she was
always subject to humiliation and teasing. I was always the one
to defend her and stand up for her as she was too intimidated to
do it herself.
Among my other friends was Leyla, a stunningly beautiful,
rebellious, courageous and very funny. She came from a
religious, Muslim family with a dictator style of child rearing. She
was to obey without questioning or else she was beaten badly
into submission. She had a boyfriend called Sina who created a
disturbing source of bitterness with Leyla’s family. Leyla and Sina
were in love with each other for as long as I knew Leyla, which
was 4 years, since she was 12. Sina was a 20 year old nice
young man who also was in love with Leyla just as much if not
more, and would do anything to marry Leyla. Leyla was so
gorgeous that she could have any man she wanted but she
wanted Sina. Her relationship with him consisted of mostly small
gaps of stolen time from school when she ditched from going to
classes, phone calls, and letters. Her courtship with Sina was
very much forbidden by her parents. Leyla was not only a
beautiful girl with a beautiful spirit, but she also had beautiful hand
writing. She always brought an excuse letter which she wrote
herself, and it was easily accepted by the principal’s office. Her
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hand writing was so convincing that the principle believed such
beautiful hand writing can only belong to a parent and not the
student. Leyla took full advantage of this gift, and used it to her
benefit by faking sicknesses very often to be with Sina. Leyla’s
parents forbid her to see Sina for many different reasons. For
one thing she was not allowed to choose her own husband and
that was up to her parents to arrange a marriage with a suitable
man. Another problem was his education. He was not educated
beyond a high school diploma which was a huge disqualifying
factor for men. To make it even more difficult was his social
status. It was much lower than Leyla’s family and was considered
poor and low class. No parent in their right mind would consent to
marrying off their daughter to a poor, uneducated man who was
not able to even care for himself, let alone a wife and children.
His parents had already gone to Leyla’s house formally asking for
this union, in hopes of getting married, but were they were told
that it was never going to be an option. Regardless of all these
obstacles Leyla maintained a relationship any which way she
could, whether her parents liked it or not. She was deeply in love
with Sina. Against her parents’ consent, she would meet with
him, talk to him on the phone and wanted to be married to him,
even though she knew it was an impossible request as far as her
parents were concerned. Again and again she would be beaten
with a belt in effort to stop her from communicating with Sina, but
the rebellious in her would carry on, with no regards to how her
family felt about it. She was determined that she was going to
marry him whether her family agreed or not, threatening her
parents that she will commit suicide if they would stand in her
way. Although she was in the same grade as I was, she was in a
different classroom from me, but somehow destiny made sure our
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path would cross and we became very good friends. She had her
own circle of friends and so did I, but we always walked together
going to and coming back from school because our homes were
very close to one another. We were both very strong in both
Arabic and English, and during the summer we would go to
English fluency classes to better our ability in speaking English.
We got to spend a lot of time during summer together and grew
very close. Leyla was everything I was not. I never had the guts
she had to stand up against people who tried to bully her, such as
her parents. She also occasionally stood up to our teachers and
our principle. I on the other hand was very passive and obedient
by nature and I liked to blend in rather than stand out. Somehow I
think I idealized her and was fascinated with her courage and risk
taking. I definitely lived vicariously through her.
Leyla’s father had punished her for seeing Sina despite being
told not to, by beating her with his belt to the point she was black
and blue, in hopes of discouraging her from seeing him again. In
the United States, this kind of punishment would have certainly
warranted child abuse charges, but in Iran that was just routine
parental control. However, after that incident she threatened both
her parents that she will commit suicide if they prevented her from
marrying Sina. That threat just added fuel to the fire and they
forbid her to go out of the house all together. To get even and
manipulate her parents, she took a whole bottle of her mom’s
prescription sleeping pills and had to be rushed to the hospital.
She survived, and her parents were very scared and remorseful
because they realized that they came so close to losing her. After
that incident they were so grateful that she survived that they
sacrificed a sheep in their front yard and gave away the meat to
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the needy. This was a common practice and a way to say thanks
to god, when you knew that you came so close to a disaster but
were spared somehow. Her parents promised to never hit her
again but she was still prohibited from communicating with Sina.
They also went to Sina’s parent’s house and told them in no
uncertain terms that they will never agree to this marriage and if
they cannot control their son from communicating with Leyla, they
would have to get a restraining order or sue them for harassment.
After that Leyla’s parents allowed her to go back to school but she
was chaperoned by her brother to and from school. The whole
reason Leyla was taking this English proficiency test was an
attempt by her parents to send her out of the country to finish
college and get her as far away from Sina as possible. Many of
the agencies which helped people send their children out of the
country required a higher than average proficiency in the English
language.
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Farhad
Mr. Dr had 3 younger brothers, and Farhad was the youngest
who worked for the Iranian embassy in Netherlands for the last 15
years. Since Mr. Dr basically raised him after their father passed
away at a young age, he was very dear to him. In summer of
1976 when I was 16 years old, Farhad came to Iran for a visit. He
was a 38 year old sophisticated gentleman who had been
divorced from his wife a few years back who was also from the
Netherlands. They had a young son together. He was balding a
little bit, but his charm certainly made up for it. When I met him I
found myself very intrigued by him. He seemed adventurous,
educated and had lived in Netherlands for many years and
perhaps had many interesting stories and experiences. This
made me intrigued by him, because I on the other hand had never
been abroad, not travelled much at all, not even to the other major
cities in Iran. I was very fascinated with him, and asked a million
questions. He struck me as a gigolo and received numerous
phone calls from different women in the Netherlands on a regular
basis. I could not understand what he was saying, but I could
certainly tell he was flirting as he talked for a long time with the
other person on the phone. He had extremely high energy and
liked going out and party all the time to different cabarets,
restaurants, disco’s, movies, or just walking in the parks. My
mom and Mr. Dr kept up the outing escapades for a while with
him, but after a while when they were burned out and exhausted
to go out anymore, they allowed Neda and I to accompany him.
Neda and I gladly went out and enjoyed what Tehran’s night life
had to offer.
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In Tehran those days, if you wanted to have fun and had
some money to spend, you could certainly have a great time. We
ate out at the best restaurants in Tehran’s upscale, uptown area,
saw a lot of museums, exhibits, and movies. He dressed himself
in the very best Armani suits, smoked cigars, always smelled very
good, and drank coffee instead of tea which was very unusual for
Iranians. Iranians drink tea from dawn to dusk. One time when
we went to see a movie, he was sitting in between Neda and me.
In middle of the movie I felt his hand crawl over mine on the seat
handle and held it very tightly but gently. I was frozen, confused,
but yet very strangely excited with goose bumps all over my body.
I had no idea what to do next, or not to do anything at all. I had
never been in that situation before and it was all new to me. I was
too embarrassed to look at him and continued watching the
movie. He caressed my hand and at one point he picked up my
hand and kissed it. Wow, I thought I was going to have a heart
attack. My heart was beating so fast, and my mouth was as dry
as the Sahara’s sand. I looked at him, and in the very dim lights of
the movie theatre I saw him smiling at me. “What is going on?” I
thought to myself. He is my step uncle and so much older than
me. A part of me was screaming to pull my hand away, but a part
of me was very flattered that a man of his status was showing
interest in me, but it felt so good, I liked it, so I didn’t fight it
anymore. In United States standards this union is probably
forbidden, but in Iran it was different. He was not related to me by
blood, only by my mom’s marriage to Mr. Dr. Many rules
regarding marriage are different and more lax in Iran, an example
of that is that first cousins can get married to each other. When he
dropped us off that night, I was so confused, but yet giddy, and
could not get him off my mind. I asked Neda if he did the same to
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her, and she denied that he had not. Neda told me that she could
tell by the way he was staring at me that there was something
going on and was not so surprised that he made the move. I
found myself infatuated by him, because he was so different than
any man I had ever met. I knew that he was 22 years older than
me but this was not uncommon in my country.
The next day when I went to school I told Leyla, Soraya, and
a few other friends about what happened the night before. They
were giggling and laughing, humming the wedding music, and
already naming our children that we were going to have.
“You guys are no help; I need you to tell me what I am going
to do or what I am going to say when he comes over to my house
tonight. Do I talk to him about it or wait for him to do it? Should I
tell my mom, should I not? Come on help me please.”
The problem was that my friends were never in that situation
before either and everyone was just throwing out crazy
suggestions that were very unhelpful. As a general rule, Iranian
girls in my generation in 1970’s lived a very sheltered life and our
knowledge of sex education, dating, or even where babies come
from was extremely limited. I vividly remember a time when I was
15 years old and had a discussion with my high school friends
about how and where babies come out of, and after speculating
for half hour we concluded that it must come out of the belly
button! Making sure girls remained sheltered was a very common
practice among parents in hope of making sure we didn’t lose our
virginity. So with the advice of my friends I was going to remain
silent until he would bring it up himself. Knowing he would come
over again that night, I made sure I was showered, blew dried my
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hair and put on some blush so very lightly hoping my mom would
not notice. That night when Farhad came over my heart was
going so fast with excitement. He stared at me as if he wanted to
say something. At times when no one was looking he would
move his lips to say something silently, but I couldn’t read his lips.
After we had dinner I got up and cleaned the table, just to have an
excuse to get away and go to the kitchen to avoid the
awkwardness. My mom usually did the clean up but I told her to
let me do it to give her a break. At the end of the night, he
excused himself while listening to Mr. Dr’s piano playing and
came up to the kitchen and handed me a piece of paper. He also
stole a quick kiss on my cheek and left quickly. I opened up the
paper, and it had his number written down, and said “call me”. I
couldn’t call him for 2 reasons. First reason was I didn’t know
what to say and second reason was that I was not able to make a
call in front of my mom and Mr. Dr who are usually both present in
the living room where the phone was. I decided to call him on my
way to school from a pay phone. I ended up chickening out and
go straight to school to get more bad advice from my friends. After
school was over, I decided to walk to my mom’s house instead of
taking the taxi, so I can think and clear my mind. Not even 5
minutes had gone by when I heard a relentless car horn. I lifted
my head and saw Farhad in his car trying to get my attention. He
motioned for me to get in his car, and I agreed without any
hesitation. First few moments were very awkward and mostly
small talk. I was feeling so shy and embarrassed and didn’t know
what else to say. He drove to a quiet street and parked there. He
then turned around and said:
“I think we need to talk don’t you?”
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I nodded my head to say yes.
“Listen, what happened in the movie theatre was not an
attempt of a man trying to take advantage of you. It was very
genuine. I don’t know how to say it, but I think I am falling in love
with you”, as he reached out and gently grabbed my hands.
I let out a shallow sigh “ahh” I was in disbelief of what I am
hearing.
Farhad said, “From the minute I met you in the airport; I
couldn’t get my eyes off you and I wanted so badly to hold your
hand. I know my age probably scares you, but please do realize
that age has nothing to do with love. Please talk to me, tell me
what you think about all this.”
“I am only 16 years old, and you are 38, yes that does
concern me a little bit.”
He shook his head to show his understanding.
“I also have not even graduated from high school yet, and
definitely want to go to college as well. On the other hand, you
don’t even live here, how are you planning on maintaining a
relationship if you live in Netherlands. Besides, I know you are
used to the European ways by now and think we can just date,
but you know in Iran girls are not suppose to be dating, how do
you expect us to date?”
“Very good points, you are smarter than I thought, I give you
a lot of credit for your critical thinking. OK here is what I had
planned. Like I said I am not here to take advantage of you, and
lie