An Iranian Passover

This Passover was quite a monumental time for us. My husband’s parents did not feel like celebrating the holiday and one of our friends with whom we would usually spent one of the first two nights had moved out town. We decided to spend the first night with one of our Iranian Jewish friends in Long Island.

Ilana and Hamid are from Hamedan, an old historical city “Hekmataneh,” in western Iran near another old historical city, “Susa,” apparently the original hometown of Jews in the world (according to Hamid and Gore Vidal). Queen Esther was from there, and so was Mordechai, and their tombs are located in

"Queen Esther and King Xerxes"

Hamadan, and are a source of pride to the Iranians of all religions, who make pilgrimages to them. While driving home from the train station, Hamid and Evan, my husband, decided that there were many Iranian Jews who are direct descents from Aaron (Cohanim, or Priests), versus the Ashkenazi’s who have many descendants of their aides (Levi’im). I have no idea if these matters are decided in this fashion, but who am I to say?

It was the loveliest time I ever had on Passover. The lengthy ritual of reading a text whose language I do not know and the assigned repetitive questions raised by the children and the uncomfortable chairs that one has to sit on for almost four hours (there is no comfortable chair in the world) leaves me with nothing but exhaustion on Passover nights. However, not this time.

Ilana and Hamid are both very political, unlike most minorities in Iran, who believe politics have nothing to do with them, even though they both are mellowed down a bit. They do not pretend to be just guests in this world. I hope this partial withdrawal is the side effect of the life in the Diaspora rather than a philosophical one. In any case, we always have very engaging discussions with them which adds more grace to their Iranian hospitality.

Their two daughters, Sarvin and Nasim, have grown to such admirable gracious ladies. It was so delightful to see them participating in the ritual, so graciously carrying the pitchers of water and basins in which only men wash their hands, without the slightest sign of resentment or embarrassment. In their young age they seemed to be wise enough not to expect modern social agreements from a five thousand old religion. They seemed to grasp and appreciate the essence of the faith which has been good enough to survive this far.

In addition to us, Hamid’s mother, Bahiyeh Khanom, and his brother, Homayoun, were there to form a Seder of three generations. Casual as everything was, still one would not miss that within this family there was a natural order and hierarchy. Each person has his/her place and duty, which they filled so nicely. There was no clash, no rivalry, and no tension. The tone was nothing but balanced, peaceful and harmonious, but light and happy.

If I have to label Ilana and Hamid's sader, I would call it highly secular. There was quite a bit of negotiation taking place as to how to perform the service, read the text, rushing through certain parts or eliminating others. Ilana announced right at the beginning to cut everything short since she had worked hard and seemed hungry; Hamid very politely tried to keep up with my husband and did his best to show that he is Jewish too; Hamid’s brother, Homayoun, who seemed more knowledgeable than Hamid and at least had stepped into a synagogue a few times, did not need to go through that pretense, and gave a nice humorous reading of text and added his witty, clever remarks. Hamid’s mother asked repeatedly that the section of the plagues and the curses be eliminated, even though the Iranian text in this section is somehow different than the Ashkenazi’s, and the entire table and food and drinks are covered so that the curses won’t enter the edibles. Her insistence on eliminating the section was remarkable and I took it not only as an aspect of her very compassionate motherly personality, but as indicative of the humane culture she is from. When all was said and done, the service took place, everything was read, questions were asked, answers were given, and all the symbolism was mentioned, but no horseradish and no gefilte fish was served. These are not included in Iranian tradition. The food was excellent as always in Ilana and Hamid’s, their indoor and outdoor Iranian kitchen is nothing to be missed.

The whole service was of course the men’s show and nobody minded. It was held mainly in Persian with a very little Hebrew sprinkled in here and there. The text was read by Hamid, Homayoun, and Evan, who stumbled when reading in Hebrew just to be a good sport. Homayoun did really good job; he was really funny and added his humorous commentary to the text and, being the youngest male child, read all four children’s questions and answered them all as well. Evan said he wished he would have recorded it.

Those four women did not seem to have any less presence than men, if not more. Their arbitrary place in the service had nothing to do with their real positions in life and they all seemed very assured of it. No, there was no orange* on the Seder plate, and Ilana, a veterinarian and sonographer and a champion horseback rider, was perfectly and graciously happy to provide all those wonderful meals.

As for the Iranian tradition of beating each other with scallions? You bet, it was the most fun. We all participated fully and vigorously in it. I did not make the mistake I made in my first Iranian Seder some thirty three years ago, and picked up few big scallions instead of one tiny one! Oddly enough, in spite of all the fun and laughter we had, all the discussions, all the political talks, and all the disagreements over various issues, the religious aspect of the Seder was still not lost. Not even a moment past without feeling the grace and the blessing which one ought to feel on these holidays. Their acceptance of faith, their peacefulness, their order, their love, their humanity was all that was written on the tablets brought down by the prophet some five thousand years ago. With all their avowed secularism, it seems they always live in accordance with the Holy Scriptures, with no alteration. In this family religion works perfectly well in its secular form, whatever this means.

In the Haggadah it is related how the five great rabbis gathered on Passover night to discuss the Exodus from Egypt. They were only roused from their discussions by a student rushing in to tell them it was time to recite the morning prayers. Just like these ancient sages, we did not notice how time passed by, it was one thirty and we should have gone home long ago. Our dog was waiting for us to have his nightly walk, and it would take us at least two to three hours to get back. We arrived at four in the morning. Those who know us can imagine what it meant for us and how much we could have enjoyed the night.

* When Jewish feminists complained to grand rabbis about their exclusion from the services, one of the rabbis responded: "the place of women in the services is like having an orange on the Seder plate." Jewish feminists, to prove their point, placed an orange on Seder plate afterward.

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Passover

Among the Jewish holidays, Passover is my favorite; it has something to do with its occurring around the Iranian New Year as well as something about its meaning which reminds me of most of our holidays: cleaning, preparing special foods, bringing symbolism into life, referring and pointing to one thing which stands for something else.

In our first Passover, my husband gave me a little brochure regarding what should be done. I do not remember how much of it I understood, but I never forget the hot taste of the horseradish on my pallet. I learned about chametz and cleaning the house in certain fashion. It was years later that I learned Passover is not just getting rid of chametz.

We spent the first Passover with my husband’s family, who were not very kosher about it. They zip through the little Maxwell House Haggadah and rushed over the roasted leg of lamb. My husband’s grandfather, rest in peace, after the first page would announce, “Let’s assume we read it.”

Little by little I learned more about this holiday as we occasionally attended the Seders where the Haggadah was read through more faithfully. As we moved to a more orthodox neighborhood and time passed by, I noticed that things were becoming more elaborate than what it was in Park Avenue and New Rochelle. Little by little the list of forbidden items became longer. The leavened bread ban was extended not only to other grains but to the green beans, green peas, sesame seeds and tahini sauce, mustard, and others which I had no idea what for. One Jewish friend explained many of these extensions was to build a fence around the law and to avoid whatever is doubtful, whatever could possibly be mistaken for wheat. Even mustard? I wondered.

As for the history of the tradition, it is told that Hebrew slaves were leaving Egypt towards the Promised Land, a hard and troubled trip through the desert full of hazards, which they succeeded in doing eventually. There are reference symbolically to all the hardship and pain that the Jews went through and many Haggadah have illustrated them beautifully and even humorously. Four questions are raised, always the same: why we eat matzo, why… and why… any why…? And the Table of the Covenants? I once asked, but guess what, I asked in the wrong place! No one knew the answer.

Several years ago we were invited to Rabbi Fund for a Seder. I did not dare ask any question in room full of rabbis. However, as if he read my mind, in a very elegant speech, the rabbi answered all my questions and said nothing about matzo, God bless him.

The rabbi explained that the Jews made a pact and committed themselves to this exodus. They knew they had a very hard and difficult road ahead, but they still accepted it full-heartedly. They were not forced but walked into it willingly and knowingly. Why? Why should anyone willingly accept hardship and danger? Is that not against human nature to avoid what possibly would bring harm? Are we not supposed to prefer safety and survival? Why should our ancestor endanger their lives as such? The answer, of course, is “freedom.” They were willing to pass through the unknown desert from slavery to freedom. But was that all? Is this commemoration of one of a kind incident? And was this “freedom” found in Jerusalem? Was this freedom just an end? Rabbi Fund answered this very eloquently. No, freedom was not an end, it was not “there, in Jerusalem.” Freedom was in that “covenants,” in the “commitment” and in “choosing,” freedom comes when we choose one and commit ourselves to it, when we “make a pact,” when we accepted a way of life, no matter how difficult and hard it might be and when we let go of other possible choices; it was by “choosing” that we liberate ourselves from running astray.

Once more I felt how close we are, this notion of “choice” as a liberating factor which is celebrated in our life again and again, when we are named, when we become Bar Mitzvah, when we choose a partner, when we accept the citizenship of a country, or when we cast our votes. Is that not the same for all of us?

It is years since I, a goy, have lived among the believers. To my dismay, I found very little of any sort of these essentials we share together being acknowledged. On the contrary, efforts are made to distinguish us as much as possible. It seems there is a competition to show how different we all are from each others. You think it is hard? Not at all. When we forget about the meaning, the cornerstone of humanity, and stick to the structure and forms, there we are: the valley of differences and “otherness.”

Last night in the rows of “Kosher for Passover” products I was amazed at the variety of pastas in all forms and shapes (made with potato or matzo), the variety of cakes and cookies, covered and uncovered with chocolates or whatever else, which had filled the supermarket shelves. I wondered what would have happened if we did not eat cake or pasta for a week? What would happen if we deprived ourselves of certain things that we like? What would happened if we restricted ourselves for one week to a tiny flat matzo and cheese and spinach and eggplant and yoghurt and potatoes and tons of other vegetables and call it a week of deprivation for the sake of practicing “choice” and “commitment?” And what would happen if we repeated it every year? Nothing would happen, except that we just might grasp the meaning of these rituals, we might learn that committing ourselves is a virtue that would bring us more freedom, we might learn that a little restrain wouldn’t do us any harm, it might just give us a very satisfying feeling of achievement. We might learn that, after all, limiting our lives a little bit is not the end of the world; it just gives us more room to concentrate on our life and achieve our goals better. We might learn to celebrate “choice” as a real “freedom.” And then what? Nothing. We might learn almost that all religions share this in one way or another. Is it that so bad?

Have a happy Passover.
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Third Annual No Ruz Day Parade

Today was the third Persian No Ruz Parade in New York City. It was the first one I attended and half participated in. Not only did Iranians participate, but the New York City Police Band, the Mother Cabrini Girl’s Band, and the All-City Boy’s Band marched. Our Mayor Mike did not attend; I assume it is not his style. He is scheduled, however, to hold a New Year’s Party for Iranians on Monday. I hope he will honor us with his presence, though I doubt he will.

It was a gorgeous spring day, sunny if little cool. It was the best one could get in this part of the country in this season, and I was grateful. The parade started at 41^st Street and ended at 26^th Street in Gramercy Park. It took two hours and was extremely orderly and organized. I do not know what the New Yorkers made of it. It did not in the least resemble the TV portrayal of Iran or Iranians, nor did it look like those occasional film clips from Iran. It certainly was a good slap in the face for Warner Brothers and its 300.

It was interesting to see how Iranians identified themselves when they are free to choose, when there is no Islamic Republic to do amr be ma‛ruf va nahi as monker, when one is free to choose only the best. It was a display of colors, dances, and music and best of all was the overwhelming presence of women. It was two hours of dancing and dancing. The folk dresses were so colorful that I do not think Madison Avenue, even with its full array of oriental carpet shops, had ever looked so colorful. I personally was not that pleased with the music selections—I thought that even with the pop music and the very common music or our folk music, the organizers could have chosen better. There was only one singer of live music; there could have been more. There are plenty of good performances of folk music which were not used. However, I think the presence of women and the colors and the whole energy invested in dancing for two hours made up for all this. (On second thought, it could have been their presence which made everything else fade!)

In my humble opinion, this parade was not merely the celebration of No Ruz, and not only homage to our culture by us the immigrants in the United States, but a political and social statement. Millions of Iranian told both the governments of Iran and the United States who they are and how they like to be perceived: happy, peaceful, expressive, colorful, variant, tolerant, and yes, not male-chauvinist. Did I forget to mention that Iranian woman in full color ran the show? They did a wonderful job.

[Please revisit this post; we plan to have pictures of this event posted soon.]

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300

In the middle of our heated anxiety over a US war in Iran and the mini-nuking of our country, I received an impassioned email-petition addressed to the film company Warner Brothers protesting the movie 300. Dr. Vahdati Nasab addressed a very important issue in his petition and asked Warner Brothers to research the topic discussed in the movie and apologize for distortion of historical fact by either the script writer or the scenarist or whoever was in charge of the distortion. The petition calls our attention to Iranian history in 450 BC and the reign of the King Cyrus the Great who was even acknowledged in the Old Testament, and even, according to the Iranian epic Shahnameh, is honored by occultation (which he did not mention).

While I do agree with Dr. Nasab, and while it pains me to see any part of our culture getting distorted for whatever reasons, political or else, still, deep inside, I am neither surprised nor willing to cast the first stone. We Iranians are to a great extend responsible for many of these misrepresentations.

A few months ago, the Pope’s speech in his home town Bavaria [.pdf] provoked the Moslem community over an alleged insult to Islam (depicting Islam as war mongering and blood thirsty).

When the clerics in Iran protested the Pope, I had the same feeling as now. Yes the Pope could have avoided his very insensitive remark if he wanted to. Yes, the screen writer could have been more careful in depicting Iranians in the battlefield if he had any sensitivity. Yes, Warner Brothers could have been more careful when producing the movie if they had any interest in giving either accurate information to those who would see the movies or if they had cared about the role they play in documenting history, even if the main purpose of their production was entertainment. And yes, as an Iranian I feel very upset when any aspect of my culture or history is tainted. But in the other hand, are we sure that Warner Brothers has any interest in our national pride or the accuracy of our history? I’m not so sure; I’m not so sure about the Pope’s good will either. I do not even know why we should expect otherwise. These people or institutions have their own agenda and they pursue it. Why should anybody care about our interests? I am not even sure if they know what our interests are. To be even more just, even we are not united in that front either. Our interests and what we take pride in are as varied as our populations and are sometimes even in conflict with each other. Moreover, time and again our countrymen have made declarations to prove their points disregarding the consequences.

I recall just shortly before the Islamic Revolution that there was a conference in Columbia University. One of the speakers was Dr. Reza Baraheni, just released from prison, where he had spent a few months (or, as he put it, “102 days”). In his talk, he recounted a legendary anecdote regarding the King Cyrus’s father who, interpreting his dream that a vine tree which had sprouted in her daughter’s lap had taken over the entire world, orders his minister to kill the baby who was born of his daughter. The minister disobeys and leaves the baby with a shepherd to be nourished. When the king became aware of his minister’s disobedience, he kills the minister’s newborn baby and feeds him with its flesh in a feast that night. He adds to this anecdote that in jail sometimes the meat in the food was bleached white and tasted very different and they were all wondering what had become of the political prisoners who were disappearing. He apparently thought that his ingenious suggestion of Iranian cannibalism rooted in the history would not only overthrow the Shah, but win him a Noble prize to boot. I do recall that after the meeting, when a few of us rushed to the stage to protest this, the organizer, one of the Trotskyists, Nasrin, defended him and said he, being a poet, is entitled to his poetic license and that the goal of the conference was not stating historical facts, but a political statement.

Unfortunately in expressing our disagreement with our governments, the Shah’s as well as the Islamic Republic, we Iranians generally have been so vindictive that we ended up damaging those we claimed we love. It was not only Dr. Baraheni who indulged in this sort of exaggeration and manipulation of fact and fiction to pursue his aim; we all have our own share of misconstruing and misrepresenting history.

Many Iranians opposed to the Islamic regime have raised outrageous claims like Dr. Baraheni’s with the same kind of intention. They are quite unaware that while they are trying to discredit the government, or even trying to prove a very legitimate criticism, they depict the Iranian people and culture, which they supposedly love and care about, as vicious and barbaric.

A few months ago, a feminist activist friend, reading the celebrated book, Reading Lolita in Tehran, was bewildered how “unfavorable the author was towards Iranian women and how ignorant and dismissive she was to the feminist movements back home.” She was right that, the author was so busy portraying Khomeini as villain that she became dismissive of or even disdainful towards the Iranian woman and their incredible progress in every aspect of life.

The opposition’s claim of the growth of prostitution in Iran and the decrease in the age of the prostitutes, which they put at twelve; their allegation of the rise in the rate of “selling the young girls to the Arab countries,” which they now put at thousands and thousands, are just examples which are aimed to highlight the poverty and failure of the Islamic Republic’s economic plan. However these statistics portray Iranians as not much better than their portrayal in 300.

The Islamic Republic has its own share of distorting the facts, truth, and history, which ironically discredits itself, just to maintain its interests and position. I recall how when eleven Jews in Shiraz were arrested and tried and convicted for conspiracy and espionage, amazingly enough, not even a single middle rank, or even lower rank Muslim Iranian official connected to this operation was arrested. I tried to figure out what sort of information these alleged spies could have gathered to deliver to Israel, which did not involve any non-Jewish officials of its protection. Where was that information? Who was supposed to make sure that no one, such as a cobbler, would not have easy access to it? Do we arrive at any conclusion but how incompetent the Islamic Republic’s intelligence services are? How vulnerable the whole system must be is if a cobbler could circumvent all the security services and obtain the secret information! I’m sure the Islamic Republic won’t admit anything of this nature even if it were a matter of life or death.

In the last twenty-eight years, we have heard again and again that how a wide range of Iranian, even clerics, were accused of being “paid by foreigners” and “agents of the enemy of Islam.” Even if a fraction of these claims were correct then, I think, the Islamic Republic, by its own admission, should question not only its legitimacy and its popularity, but its competence.

Those of us old enough to remember life in pre-revolution Iran also recall that we would call anyone who dared to disagree with us a “SAVAK agent.” We all were comfortable in claiming that one third of the Iranian people work for SAVAK. The joke was that even there are three SAVAK agents in any group of two Iranians!

None of us thought then or now that all these ratios and numbers and figures have another side as well. Not all signify the brutality or insensitivity or incompetence of our government, but it also reflects on us, our culture and our country. After all, what sort of person, and for what reason, would spy on his own family and friends and jeopardize their life and welfare? What sort of culture breads the generation of fathers who sell their daughters? Are we reduced to that level within the short period of time of almost a quarter of a century that money dictates our behavior? Are we not declaring something derogatory along with these exaggerations? And why are there no protests when we dishonor our heritage in such a way?

My pain is not just limited to these petty naggings. I have much bigger pain. We have turned our back to our culture in every respect. We do not encourage it, we do not spread it, we do not nurture it. Our rich culture is sitting untouched in the shelves of libraries. The books about our history remain unread and the facts about it remain unexamined and not discussed. If we want to do something about it, we have to do it systematically. If the average audience knew a little about Iranian history, undoubtedly the Warner Brothers would not have dared to produce such film. Why don’t we promote our culture and educate our young generation about it? Why don’t we get the schools and local libraries to have shelves on Iranian culture? Why not donate money to these educational institutions to be used as scholarships for whoever does any scholarly work about Iran? Why don’t we support our young artists who are representing our culture? If every year we can recruit only five hundred PhD students to write their dissertations on Iranian art and culture, after which they will naturally will devote their rest of their lives to promoting it, then we would not need to write these petitions, we would not need to argue with ignoramuses or to stop them; the educated audience will do it for us. Let’s be democratic, let’s delegate responsibility, let’s do our work; let the audience do its work; let Warner Brothers do its; let the Pope does his job; and let our culture do its: let it thrive. Why should we all wait until too late?

"Look, Xerxes, I'm just not that into you!"

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No Rooz: A Religious Festival

Once more Iranians are getting ready for their New Year parties. Hotels and restaurants are the most fashionable places for many, although a few organizations use local public libraries or religious institution such as the Zoroastrian Darb-e Mehr. But for many, No Rooz remains a family and personal holiday.

Though Iranians refer to No Rooz as a national holiday, in fact, this holiday is the most religious holidays, more than Yalda or even Mehregan. If it does not appear as a religious holiday or ritual, it is just due to the Cosmological nature of the religion which is based on, Zoroastrianism. Iranian holidays, unlike any other holidays in Western calender, are not related to any events, or the celebration of life, miracles, and deeds of a great personalities, but mainly are based on the position of planets, primarily Sun and Earth.

Among all the holidays there are two which are associated with the "beginning", No Rooz is the beginning of the spring and Mehregan is the beginning of the winter (in the Fasli Calendar*), thought, a greater importance is given to No Rooz. Its greater sanctity, compared to the second holiest holiday, Mehregan, could be attributed not only to the “beginning” nature of it but to the exactitude of its time. While No Rooz starts with the hour and minute and second, Mehregan is just celebrated on the day. Also, the significance of what begins by No Rooz, the birth and growth, could not possibly be ignored.

What is so holy about the beginning? Not much, just a little more than the end and yet a bit more than the middle. It is not only we Iranians who are obsessed with this cornerstone, but humanity in general. We need to have a starting and an ending point in order to be able to select one whole piece and separate it from the others, no matter how artificial or arbitrary they might be. Try to imagine a story with no beginning and no end. Try to imagine an organism without beginning and without end. Try to imagine a human being without birth and without death. How vain and how aimless! This beginning and ending not only separate entities from each other, but it give them a meaning, a purpose, a moral sense. That is why it is holy. Beginning is, also, a bit holier than the end since it is joyful since it comes with an expectation and hope.

Iranian holidays are all representative of these hidden meaning and purposes. By celebrating them, we are supposed to pursue these aims. By each holiday we prepare ourselves to start a meaningful journey, start walking on a new path with a clear goal in mind and a clear resolution, with the hope to carry it to the end successfully.

Those of us who are old enough remember the preparatory events for the New Year. House cleaning was the most memorable in my family. We would take every piece of furniture out of the house for dusting and cleaning. Removing the carpets was my favorite, the newspapers use as mats under them, yellowish, coated with soft dust, was like an antique treasure to me even though they were only one year old; and washing and cleaning and cleaning and cleaning to which there was no end was still carried on with all the rhythm of poetry. Throwing out the broken, rusty, moldy, torn and worn out was a relief too. And the most important was the last day of all these cleaning, the evening we all impatiently awaited, Chahar Shanbeh Suri, with nuts and dried fruits in our pockets, waiting for the sunset so we could set the fire and jump over it. It was our good neighbor Mrs. Kharazi who would never let us to start the fun without grinding and pounding the myrrh and other herbs and minerals in a big brass mortar while reciting the prayer intend to undo all the falsehood, lies, and deceptions, and cast away all the evil eyes and bad wishes from us.

I still very faithfully try to keep the ritual as a grown-up living in New York City, despite the cold weather, not only to keep the tradition going, but because it is a very important part of my well being. What I like the most about these holidays are their therapeutic effects on me, the same religious effect that was intended by them originally. I do not mean to reduce the whole spiritual aspect of the religion to its psychological impact, but besides the linguistic terminology, how else could we explain most of the metaphysical? I impatiently look forward to this holiday to clean up the pains, the sadness, the losses, the regrets, and the hurts; and put them all in a small brass mortar and pound them. I never missed jumping over the fire even if it was only a candle in the kitchen when we were living in an apartment. Now we are fortunate to have a house with a backyard in which we can burn the trimmings of a pair of mulberry trees saved from the spring gardening and enjoy the good perfume of mulberry while cleansing our souls. And later at night, while the flames wane, I would sit with a whole cup of course salt and sprinkle it over the fire. The yellow sparkles vanish in the darkness and take with them the pain of all misdeeds and misfortunes. I give away whatever does not serve any purpose in my life in the protective warmth of the fire. What do I need the grievances over a trivial argument with a friend or partner for? What do I need hard feelings against someone dear who, in a moments of confusion, said or did something that I did not like? What do I need the sadness due to the losses of those dear to me while I can cherish the good memories in my heart? The warmth and the glow of the fire are the best place to “undress” to get “nude” and to “empty” myself from what ever is a burden. I will never miss this chance.

Cleansed inside and outside, we all should go to welcome the “beginning” with light, with a salute, and with purity. We all know all about the haft seen, that I’m not so kosher about, always placing cinnamon in just to honor Michael Ondatjee. My samanou, is not always samanou but something similar, i.e., sweet and brownish like molasses. Gold fishes and their upkeep are my husband’s passion; they stay alive for years; and when they die, it takes us one or two years to bring ourselves to buy another one. Honestly, we do not know if originally they were seven seen or sheen and what they were; and it seems that whatever they were, sheen or seen, the tradition is fairly new. Our Parsee friends from Bombay who left Iran in tenth century have no idea about this custom. But whatever we miss, we should not miss the fire or candles, one never “begins” without it. Also the flowers, pussy willows and forsythias and quince apple blossoms and, best of all, did-o-bazdid and plenty of kisses are a must.

Finally, sizdehbedar, is my husband’s favorites. We take our sabze’s to the lake, if it does not rain heavily or does not snow, with a big loaf of bread to feed the ducks and geese. He is a big believer in knotting the sabzeh. I will never forget the first year I met him, before we married, he invited me to take the sabzeh he had grown to throw in the river. In his apartment, what I found as sabzeh was three grains of wheat grown to ten inches high! We picked them up, all three grains, and went over Brooklyn Bridge, and we knot them with our wishes. His first one was for our dear country Iran (well!). The second knot was for my sister’s health (after twenty-eight years, thank Heaven and those three grains of wheat, she is fine). The third was for us (we got married six months later). With my wishes I cheated a little, I placed the residues of whatever hard feelings and grief and passivity and gloominess into the knots, hoping they would be washed away into the water. Throwing three grains of wheat from the height of the Brooklyn Bridge to the East River was not easy. We placed them in a tissue paper and placed some pebbles next to them to give them heft, then my husband very skillfully launched them into the water. Oh my God, you may not believe it, they landed so nicely over the water and were carried away smoothly. We both took it as a good omen. He is still a big believer in that.

Try it, I promise you won’t regret it.

Happy New Year.

* The division of the Fasli Calendar is different than our calendar. A year is divided into two seasons and every season into six months, every month into four sections, the first two being seven days each and the second two eight days each. The last five days are called panjeh and are not part of the twelve months. As a result, Chaharshanbeh is always the last day of the year. And no matter what, the year always start with Shanbeh (Saturday). (These names were given to them after changing to the Shamsi calander, i.e. while the tradition is old, the names are fairly new.)

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Rumors of War: Bush and Yazid?

As March approaches, I cannot stop being worried about the rumor of a US war on Iran. Even though my good friend Cyrus, who I believe is the most accurate commentator on Iranian politics, told me that these threats are all rhetoric and nothing will happened, there are Seymour Hirsh’s most recent piece in the New Yorker and that article in the London Telegraph which can cause one to loose sleep. Unfortunately, we do not live in an open society (not in Karl Popper’s free-market sense, but in Bill Moyer's sense). We live in a new Dark Age; the light is the media, which is switched off. If you do not believe this, look at the front pages of the newspapers which keep a running tally of the men who claim to be the father to that Anna Nicole Smith’s child. And television? I got a glimpse of it on Sunday night before the Oscars, and I was so glad we don’t own one.

Turning to the Iranian online newspapers, I was amazed at all the comments on Shahram Jazayeri Arab’s escape from prison. He had been arrested on a monetary fraud charge during the last administration and his trial was a record-breaking television show in Iran during the Khatami’s presidency. According to those articles I read, since the present government did not have any use for his anti-reformist show, he was allowed to escape. The government was so anxious for him to get out of the country that it immediately announced that he and all his family are beyond the Iranian border so that people should not expect any follow-up.

The second big news was regarding the obscene questions about the life of the Prophet asked by the Ministry of Education in one of the teacher’s college entrance exams. (It is such a relief that the offender was not a foreigner and or a non-Muslim. Thank God he was not reformist either, but a full-fledged fundamentalist, one of their own.)

I turn to the blogs. There are few that I read every night. Sayyed Mohammad Abtahi’s nightly article is my number one barometer of calamities. His being a cleric and close to Khatami, his amicable personality, his extreme popularity which keeps every door open to him, his connection to a vast array of classes of Iranians, and his sharpness and courage, makes him uniquely capable of saying things that others are not able to. If he feels safe, I’m safe, and everybody is safe.

Abtahi’s last ten articles do not indicate even a remote possibility of war. He has written about the Jazayeri’s Great Escape and Batebi’s Humble Shirt (coming to a theater near you!), he wrote about writings memoirs, stereotyping, Khatemi-bashing, film festivals and Dehnamaki’s movie Emigrants, the above-mentioned obscene questions posed by the Ministry of Education, Ahmadinejad’s latest gaffe (a sixteen years old girl who built some nuclear something). But there was nothing about the war.

Massoud Behnoud is in England. Although this is a safe haven, he is not the kind of person to sit and watch the events passively. He has to say something. His last ten articles were about the Tehran University poetry reading to protest Batebi’s situation, about Espahbodan’s untimely death, about Iran’s movie industry and its founders, and about Ghaffary’s death. He has also written a few article about the negotiations over Iran’s nuclear energy program and the price Iran has to pay for being isolated due to it. But nothing regarding any war.

Another site which I use as my barometer is Ahmad Shirzad. He was the Isfahan representative in the reformist Majlis. He is very outspoken, extremely knowledgeable in nuclear physics, and a tireless activist. He would not sit idle if America were ready to drop the bomb. He knows for sure what would be the consequence. In his latest article, he invited Ahmadinejad to a television debate over his claim that “even if we stop all the government’s programs for ten years and spend it all on nuclear energy, it would still be in our interest to do so since Iran would move fifty years ahead.” It is very significant that Shirzad would even bother to respond to Ahmadinejad if we were even remotely close to the war. Knowing him, I think he would raise a hell over it. He knows well enough that there won’t be any television crew to broadcast the debate and that no one would be interested in seeing the President is defeated, if the bomb is dropped on Iran.

There are other sites I read on and off: Emad od-Din Baghi, Mara‛ashi, Tajzadeh, Arghandehpoor, Mazroo‛i, Ebadi, and Rafsanjani. None of these sites indicate the war we hear about here. In above blogs and sites, there are several articles regarding the various interview or the results of talks or sanctions and their effects, but none about the possibility of war, a real war in which places get destroyed and people die.

I realize that I am just arriving at a conclusion by a process of elimination, or by some sort of reasoning. We have tried those methods before the Iraq war, and were all disappointed. Reason has nothing to do with politics. However, what I’m trying to say is slightly different. The web sites I read are not government-connected sites. They belong to individuals and activists. They are writing with different motives. That is why I think they are reliable and that is why I choose them as my barometer.

I do not think any of the above-mentioned bloggers and activist would write what they write if they remotely anticipated the possibility of war. I do not think that Abtahi would have gone to a film festival and laugh and write about it if he thought that the Americans were in the Persian Gulf ready to attack Iran. I do not think that Shirzad would have invited Ahmadinejad for a debate on television if he knew that all those fabulous monuments in Isfahan would (God forbid) be destroyed in the near future. I do not think that Baghi would have written about the people in Ahwaz who had been executed. I do not think that Tajzadeh would have worried about the government ignoring the laws that much, and of course Mazroo‛i is smart enough to know that economic plans are of no use if we are getting involved in a war with the US.

What do we conclude from all this? Are we all involved in playing a role in a fiction? Is there no war and our beloved governments are working willy-nilly together, as Christian Amanpour reported? Or there is another strategy? Or bunch of fools putting on an act in an abyss with the people following them?

We all know what will happen when we rely on each others’ weaknesses, when we bluff, when we think the other side thinks as we do, when we think we are all like each other. We think they all are like “me,” and when our calculations fail, we will cry “Va Mossibatta” (“What a calamity!”) if we survive.

Sitting down in front of my computer and reading online newspapers, and going to bed with a false reassurance that there will be no war, I feel guilty of the same error that has been repeated many times in history. I do not think the Japanese even remotely expected the shameless bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I have no doubt that Dr. Mossadegh would not believe that America would have acted as she did in 1953; he thought that America’s idea of democracy was the same as his impeccable idea of it, and that the Americans were just as committed to it. I have no doubt that that Shah never thought that Jimmy Carter would have betrayed him in broad daylight as the whole world looked on. None of us thought that America would do what it did in Afghanistan or attack Iraq. We all thought the rule of reason, justice, fairness, shame, etc. were credible enough to prevent catastrophe. Experience has shown us otherwise.

I argue that all these clerics in leadership position won’t sit with their hands folded and wait for America drop a bomb on us. They would do something; that is what they are there for; that is why we have the Vali Faghih, isn’t it? He is there to intervene in critical situations. He can ask this incompetent Ahmadinejad to step down. We have a big office of Maslehat Nezam with Rafsanjani in charge; are they not supposed to oversee the welfare of the country or system? Are not they supposed to take action if the country is in danger and the government is mishandling the crisis? I reason that if they are not taking any action, things are safe and secure. But what if he makes the same mistake I do? Of course the Islamic Republic does not follow my line of reasoning, but it could follow the Imams’. Could it be Imam Hussein’s for example? It may.

Imam Hussein went to war with the Caliph Yazid with only seventy-two people, many of whom were his families, including women and children, who were not skilled warriors. Did he not know the consequence? Did he not know he would get defeated? Or did he know and did it anyhow? I think very likely he thought the same as we are all thinking and many others before us. More likely he did not think Yazid capable of such sacrilegious brutality. He relied on something that he was not sure of, a vestigial sense of decency, righteousness, fairness or even shame in Yazid, who had none. Are we not all following the same footsteps again? What if we are all wrong? Then is there always the option of playing the martyr? Is that what we are heading for?

Let’s see. I’m safe as long as Abtahi and Shirzad’s are not worried. They are not worried probably since Rafsanjani and Khamanei are not worried. All those ruling clerics are not worried because they think America won’t do anything so stupid. Am I right? Is this what they are learning from the epic tragedy of Imam Hussein? Is that what is going on? Why not? We all are assuming at this point and hoping that all decision-makers think like us and wish as well as we do. They may not.

We the people in the world, with all our intelligence and cleverness when it comes to certain things, are not acting intelligently. I cannot believe we have left the world to George Bush, who probably models himself after John Wayne, and Ahmadinejad, though he does not need any model, being a model by himself, who models himself after George Bush. They are bluffing and mishandling and doing meaningless things and together walking into the abyss and taking us with them. Would anyone survive to cry “Va Mossibata”?

PS: I notice that some American military have come out against any American adventure in Iran. Visit their website at http://www.stopiranwar.com/.

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An Iranian Petition against Holocaust Revisionism

An open letter by a group of Iranian academics, writers, and artists regarding the Tehran Conference on Holocaust Denial

Over the past year or so a number of official and unofficial public statements have been made in Iran denying the genocide of Jews during the Second World War. The culmination of this trend was the widely publicized, so called “International Holocaust Conference”, held in Tehran in December 2006. Given the serious moral and practical implications of this trend, we, a group of Iranian academics, intellectuals, writers and artists, find it imperative to take a public stance on this issue.

1. Today, several decades after the end of the Second World War, testimonies of the survivors and researches carried out by numerous historians have unequivocally confirmed the Jewish genocide during the World War. Besides the genocide of the Jewish people, historians have also spoken of the mass murders of the gypsies, the Slav people, potential and actual opponents of the Nazi regime, the disabled, prisoners of war, and even in the closing days of the war, the incapacitated German soldiers. These crimes were committed widely and in various ways, including through firing squads, starvation, long hours of forced labour in concentration camps, and massacres in the gas chambers of extermination camps. The extensive material evidence, the confessions made in the Nuremberg trials and other trials that took place after the war and the testimonies of the survivors establish the veracity of the accounts beyond any doubt. Moreover, the voluminous anti-Semitic and racist literature left from the Nazis shed light on the roots of this inhuman hysteria. The accuracy of the accounts has been acknowledged by many academic, political and religious authorities including the Catholic Church. They have all condemned these crimes. On the other hand, there have always been a few individuals who have denied the genocide of the Jewish people or questioned its significance, through casting doubt on the number of people murdered or the manner in which they were put to death. The majority of the speakers in the recent conference held in Tehran were from amongst those few. This conference did not meet the requirements of an academic forum. The speakers in such a forum should be chosen by specialists of the topic on which they are to speak (in this case, historians). In an academic forum both sides of an argument should be invited in order to engage in a discussion. Only in an open discussion involving all sides of a debate one can hope to see the presentation of substantiated claims. In the absence of such academic standards, in the conference held in Tehran, mere unsubstantiated claims were put forward, mainly for propaganda purposes. Moreover, the proponents of these claims were invited to the conference without paying any attention to their background which in some cases was outright racism. The presence and the appalling speech presented by a former Ku Klux Klan leader, a group infamous for its involvement in hate crimes against the African Americans, was a result of this recklessness.



2. In the history of mankind, there have been dark events that have treaded upon human values and broken basic moral principles in such a way that make them distinct from other comparable events. The scars left behind on the face of humanity by these events are irreversible and talking inconsiderately about them can only be described as rubbing salt into the wound and exacerbating the pain. This is in particular true of the crimes committed during the Second World War, some survivors of which are still among us. The sensitivity of the issue could be seen in the reaction shown by the people and the governments of the Eastern Asian countries against the stance of the current Japanese government in regard to senior military officers of the War. Those who perpetuate the discourse on Holocaust denial ignore the feelings of the people directly affected by this event. These people include, among others, a group of our Jewish fellow citizens in Iran.
   



3. One of the main claims put forward in this conference was that the Holocaust, as a historical event, has been used as a tool to justify the policies of the state of Israel. This claim was expressed in particular by a group of Jewish religious scholars who according to their reading of the Holy Scriptures opposed the existence of the state of Israel. Such claims are at best unhelpful to the cause of Palestine. The creation of the state of Israel on the lands of Palestine has its own history. No matter what political position we adopt regarding the creation of Israel and its further expansion, the historical evidence for the Holocaust remains intact. The fact that since the inception of the state of Israel many crimes have been committed against the Palestinian population does not provide moral ground for the denial or undermining of the genocide of the Jewish people. Acknowledging the Holocaust does not lead to the disavowal of the rights of the Palestinians, nor does its denial or undermining strengthens the case in their favour. The Palestinians, like all other nations, have a right to enjoy their livelihood in their own independent state. This right has nothing to do with the denial or acknowledgement of the Holocaust. Claims such as those that were uttered in the conference held in Tehran, can only work to the detriment of the rightful cause of the Palestinians and the efforts of the proponents of peace in Israel.



4. Forgotten amongst all the sensationalism in the Iranian media accompanying the conference, was the bitter reality that the undermining or denial of human suffering for the sake of making political points – whatever they might be – will inevitably lead to moral degeneration: a moral degeneration that makes any judgment on the wrongfulness of the murder of the innocent dependent upon its political reverberations; a moral degeneration where by questioning the number of the victims, it fails to realize that “whoever kills an innocent, it is as if he has killed all mankind”.

We, the signatories of this letter, are of the opinion that such “conferences”, more than anything, harm the academic image of the Iranian universities. We believe that conferences like this do not help the cause of the Palestinian people and only provide pretexts for the warmongers in the region. We are of the opinion that holding a conference in Tehran in support of the denial of the Holocaust has perpetuated an immoral stance that seriously endangers the culture of peace and the peaceful cohabitation of human beings.

1. Babak Ahmadi, Writer and Translator (Iran)


2. Emad Baghi, Writer (Iran)


3. Kaveh Bayat, Historian (Iran)


4. Maziar Behrooz, History Department, SFSU (USA)


5. Mansour Bonakdarian, University of Toronto, Mississauga (Canada)


6. Rama Cont, Columbia University (USA)


7. Khashayar Dayhimy, Writer and Translator (Iran)


8. Kaveh Ehsani, University of Illinois at Chicago (USA)


9. Farideh Farhi, University of Hawai’i at Manoa (USA)


10. Laleh Ghadakpour, IRIP (Iran)


11. Arsalan Kahnemuyipour, Syracuse University (USA)


12. Ramin Karimian, Translator (Iran)


13. Arang Keshavarzian, Connecticut College (USA)


14. Azadeh Kian, University of Paris 8 (France)


15. Morteza Mardiha, Writer (Iran)


16. Ali Moazzami, Writer (Iran)


17. Mohammad R. Moeini , UMass Amherst (USA)


18. Mehran Mohajer, Photographer (Iran)


19. Hassan Mortazavi, Translator (Iran)


20. Mohammad Rezai-Rad, Translator (Iran)


21. Kian Tajbakhsh, Researcher and Sociologist


22. Mehran Tamaddon, Documentary Filmmaker (Iran)


23. Farzin Vahdat, Vassar College, NY State (USA)

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Imagine...

Imagine…

I know, I know, John Lennon has come and gone. What we mean is: Imagine the day your son, your brother, your husband, your sister, your wife or your daughter kisses you and goes for war. He or she goes to bomb your mother, father, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, nieces and nephews, your old neighbors, the baker in the next block or the officer in the police department or the ticket agent in the travel agency or the family doctor. Imagine the day that the grave yards where your parents are buried or the school you attended or the hospital in which you gave birth to your child is bombed, and God forbid, the contamination! Imagine. Just imagine. Only imagine.

It does not matter where you come from or what your political position is. It doesn’t matter if you are monarchist, republican, nationalist, or reformist. It doesn’t matter if you are Iranian or Korean or Puerto Rican or Armenian or Jewish. Just imagine. Just imagine.

What would you feel afterward? How would you look at the face of your loved one and say, “Well?” Well what? What would you do? What would you say the day after?

Think a few minutes. It doesn’t even matter if your response is in accordance with our taste or not. The important thing is that we are all entitled to be heard and ought to be heard. We do not need to be politicians, academics doctors, lawyers, or executives, as long as we are one way or another related to Iran or an Iranian, it is enough. Let our governments (Iranian as well as American) know what we feel. Your message could be a word, a short sentence, a poem, a story, one or a few photographs, a clip of film, a painting, an essay, or a speech. No insults, no abuse. Only let us be heard.

We Iranian-Americans living in the tri-state area want to organize a marathon of Iranian and Iran-related voices on March -- in New York City. We are trying to send a message to the Iranian Government as well as the American government that we are here and that there is no sharp line between Iranians and Americans any more. In fact, that sharp line ceased to exist long ago. We all are the habitats of one planet and the world is more interconnected than fifty yeas ago. The war-mongers should know that if it is hard to define who is American and who is Iranian, it is harder to define the borders. Where Americans are going to bomb, some other Americans will mourn over.

Let us know if you would like to be part of this marathon.

You do not need to be Iranian or of Iranian descent or related to Iranian by birth or marriage. You can be from any ethnic group but knows an Iranian in one connection or another: You might work with or work for an Iranian. You might have a girlfriend or boyfriend who is Iranian. You might have an Iranian teacher in high school or college. You might have bought your wedding rings from an Iranian jeweler. You might have had your life saved by an Iranian surgeon or an Iranian doctor might have brought your child into the world. You might have some historical, architectural, or some other cultural interest in Iran. You might have traveled to Iran as a tourist and experienced Iran’s famous hospitality. You might have some literary or artistic interest in Iran. You might have a humanistic interest in Iran. Please come and share your sentiment with us. Let us know what you expect from the American government or the Iranian government. Let us stop the war.

If you are a musician or some other performer, we would particularly welcome your lending this event a touch of culture.

We can help you with accommodation but not transportation if you are not living in tri-state area. Send us your message and tell us something about yourselves, your age, your background, your gender, etc. We can arrange for your message to be read.

Send us email at minazandsiegel@yahoo.com
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A Letter to Dr. Zarif

Dr. Javad Zarif

Iranian Ambassador to the United Nations

February 11, 2007

Dear Dr. Zarif,
I heard you today on National Public Radio’s All Things Considered. I was really disappointed by your talk. Was it really necessary to put your reputation on the line for Ahmadinejad? Is he really worth it? Why did you need to say that the Holocaust Seminar was planned during the previous administration? Do you mean that during Khatami’s presidency there had been a plan to organize a conference to deny the Holocaust and that Ahmadinejad felt so faithful to the Reformists that implemented it?


Why did you say that David Duke applied for a visa where the Iranian government did not have embassy to check his background? Why was he invited to Iran for such a conference in the first place? What other credential does he have besides role in founding the Knights of the KKK and as a professional Holocaust denier? If Iranian intelligence is so lax that it could not find this out, then Iran is indeed in serious trouble.

Your boss, Foreign Minister Manoucher Motakki, send a message which was read by his deputy in the opening day of conference. It declared that the purpose of conference is not to deny or confirm the Holocaust, but just to investigate it. Mr. Abtahi, in his blog, replied “Why do we need such an investigation at such a high financial and political cost? Why should we be even concerned about it at all? This is an event which never concerned Iran.” He is right of course. It is interesting that you did not even feel the need to offer any sort of criticism or apology, but were dismissive of this kind of adverse publicity.

I have heard that your service to our country in the United Nations will end this spring. Why couldn’t you have stayed out of Ahmadnejad’s mess. Let his own people clean after him. It is easy for Ahamadinejad to forget that he does not own the country, that he is only a public servant and is there for a little while, but you do not need to be reminded that you are representing us and have to have our interests in mind. Please, Mr. Zarif, please, respect that trust which is placed in you (by the previous administration, by the way!). Remember that once you lose your credibility, you have lost it forever. Please do not loose it for Ahmadinejad’s sake He is not worth it.
Respectfully yours,




Mina Zand Siegel
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Massoumeh Ebtekar

Masoumeh Ebtekar, Iran’s Minister of Environmental Protection during President Katami’s second term, was on the front pages of online newspapers this week. In commemoration of the anniversary of Ayatolah Khomeini’s return to Iran, she wrote an article “Neauphle le Chateau.” I read the article expecting some forgotten anecdotes or some of the Imam’s words of wisdom which might have been overshadowed by the excitement of the Revolution, like some of those delightful stories that Mr. Abtahi writes once in a while on his website. (Indeed, his story about the Imam during his airplane journey back home was wonderful.) Much to my disappointment, the article was just covered with bragging about how privilege she was to have met the Imam and recited prayer behind him. One piece of bad news for Ms. Ebtekar is that thousands of people who did not even know how to pray (whom I knew personally) and many others who were not even Moslems, including Bahi’is, were among the people who had that honor. What the reader like me expects is to really hear Imam Khomeini’s voices and message, his real and simple words. Unfortunately, the man who within a short period of time managed to be elevated to such an exalted position as Imam is still unknown to many of us. I do not even make apology to say that a year before Revolution, one of my neighbors, who was a devout Moslem and the only one that I knew as such, knocked on my door in and asked me if I knew who Khomeini was. I said yes, and told him that he was a cleric who was in prison in Shah’s time for his anti-land reform protest and that while in prison, he was promoted to the rank of ayatollah, thanks to Ayatollah Shariatmadari and his lawyer Mr. Rasekh (oddly enough a Bahi’i). I told my neighbor that I thought he was dead because he was suffering from some sort of cancer. He was amazed, since he didn’t know even that much. As far as I know, after revolution our knowledge did not improve much. He remained a source of mystery to many of us.

After Revolution, most of his speeches, unfortunately, were tinted with politics and did not reveal his real ideas and philosophy. It was just the occasional anecdotes and memoirs of those who have known him privately or have heard him out of the political context which have given us a portrait of him. I do not, however, recall any women’s perspective on this matter beyond the writings of one or two western reporters who had their own agenda when interviewing him. It was with this expectation that I read Ms. Ebtekar’s article, and I was disappointed.

The man who impressed her so much and showed her the ultimate way of salvation, the man who was do decisive in her life, the man whose she later became has remained as alien and unknown as ever. There is neither a single quotation from his speeches nor his conversations nor any words of wisdom from this man in her memoir. All she said was how privileged and honored she felt to have been graced by his presence—and honor she shared with thousands and thousands of others. Unfortunately, in spite of my two or three times a year trips to Paris, I was not there to have that honor, I would have gone there even though I had to look out of the corner of my eyes at others to know what to do when praying, and when and how to do “sojoud” and “rokoud.” I’m certain, however, that the experience would not have increased my knowledge of him either.

Writing a memoir, be it one page or a book, does not mean describing the course of events. Yes, thousands of people prayed behind him twice a day. But what does it mean but praying with him? What did it signify? And when do we want to go one step beyond the superficiality of events? Why don’t we try after some quarter of a century to know the man who had that effect in our history? So far, thanks, to Abtahi, we know for sure that he did not believe in forcing people to go to Heaven. If you, Ms. Ebtekar, know him a little better, you should just let us know. His thinking and his wisdom will surely help us all, including Ahmadinejad and Mesbah Yazdi. More adjectives and adverbs do not add to our knowledge. It just makes the image more crowded.

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Prince Ebtehaj

Prince Ehtejab, by Bahman Farmanara

A film review

I saw an old Iranian movie in the Walter Reade Theater in New York’s Lincoln Center. It was based on an Iranian novel written by the celebrated writer Houshang Golshiri. The story is based on a fictitious character, Prince Khosrow Ehtejab, the last in the princely line of a dynasty which ruled Iran for a little over a century, before it was toppled by the Reza Shah Pahlavi I in 1921. Prince Ehtejab had been eye-witness to the latter part that dynasty’s history. He recalls his childhood memories of the ruthless way his grandfather ruled and how his own father bravely stood up to him, resigned, and withdrew from his service. Although he never gets the opportunity to rule, he is raised to be a prince. He recalls the tyranny under his grandfather. He recalls the brutal murder, unjustified punishments, illegal seizures, the keeping of men and women in captivity for nothing, the brutal condition of women, the cruel life of the harem, and the deprivation its inmantes suffer. However, there are things that he does not know. There are two people who feed him the past that he is unaware of. His beautiful, educated, well-read wife, Fakhr-ol-Nessa (Pride of Women) and his family carriage driver, Morad, who served three generations of this dynasty and was crippled in an accident while driving him. Fakhr-ol-Nessa tells him all she has read in the memoir of their ancestors, an almost entirely brutal history. Morad tells him all the events he witnessed with horror.

I have read the book almost thirty-five years ago, when I was obliged to like it, willy-nilly and whatever it actually meant. We were of the generation in which “liking” and “disliking” had nothing to do with our preferences. It was a badge of belonging to the “intellectuals”—or else. And of course I like it, and of course I liked the similar book “Blind Owl,” and of course I liked Fellini, and Sartre, and of course I like them because I should. I was becoming an intellectual.

I left the theater quite depressed. I was more worried about what the American audience would make of all this brutality and what message they would now file in their filing cabinet of Iran which was already bulging with misinformation. When I occasionally came across this information, I did not know whether to cry or laugh. And now this movie!

Anyhow, the movie was an excellent adaptation of the novel and stayed very faithful to the text. The acting was superb; it was a pleasure to see Jamshid Mashayekhi, who rendered the prince’s personality masterfully, and the younger Khorvash, to whom we theatre lovers are in debt as a pioneer woman in the field. (She played Fakhri, the personal maid to Fakhr-ol-Nessa.)

When leaving the theater, I told a friend “Did we really need this?” I walked into the street going to get the subway to go back to Brooklyn to prepare dinner; a few friends were coming from DC. Still quite depresses, I drifted into Fairway with the hope that the sight of tomatoes and peppers and basil would cheer me up a bit. “Don’t worry what these American will make of it, it is just a fiction,” I told to myself. That did not work either.

A lump in my throat, I came home. My husband asked how the movie was, and I gave him the report. I told him that I was glad that he did not come with me since it was too depressing. He had not read the book, so I told him the summary of the story. I then told him that by the time Golshiri wrote the book, Qajar dynasty was already a forgotten story and it is now totally irrelevant to us. Oh, yes “irrelevant!” That was the word in my throat. It pushed very hard. Alas, painful as it is, the story is still relevant. Relevant here, relevant there in Iran, relevant everywhere imaginable. That is why it was depressing and painful. Though, a brutal dynasty ended and the last prince in the line went to the depths of dead history, a new one was born, only with modern equipment and modern means to rule and govern and suppress all the more brutality, with more sophisticated weapons, including the chemical and nuclear. My husband came to the defense of the Qajar dynasty (he knows a few scholar from that family) and also in defense of the present situation which is not as bad. I granted him both, however I had to remind him of few cases of brutality of unfaithful husbands toward their wives (American), of existing polygamy (not just among the Mormans!), of the uncontrolled power that employers have over their employees, of the legal system which is in full support of the wrongdoers, and I let it go at that. He knew I would jump all over White House and two incomplete wars which turned the region into a bloodbath, and now with the threat of another war over Iran, the number of murders and the casualties in last five years in Afghanistan and Iraq, and also the crimes which were committed by Iraqis before the current wars using the chemical weapon given to Saddam by the Americans. And this is only small part of the brutality of which the American Dynasty was the architect.

The door bell rang, our friends came, a Pakistani couple. She is a journalist and had come back recently from Afghanistan with a magnificent report confirming that Karzai is not even the mayor of all Kabul, he is just barely in charge of his palace and its vicinity, that the Taliban are about, as for Al Qaeda, you bet! And the burka and poverty and war and fighting and chaos are all over the place. She even received a text-messaged death threat! What happened to the freedom and democracy send to them by George Bush? “It is on the way!” she said with a sad laugh.

“Where will her article on the visit get published?” I asked. “Well I’m looking around, but the newspaper editors do not have time to read it and they pass it to each other.” The report was only 15 pages double space. One can read it in fifteen minutes.

I felt bad for my husband. He himself is suffering from the injustices done in academia and that unbridled, incontrollabled abuse of power that is increasing every day. On top of everything, he has to put up with me and my readings of all these obscure events and their interconnections. I felt bad for him, he has to take all the criticism for all American’s wrong doings.

But getting back to Prince Ehtejab. It was a great movie, but I did not like it and I did not like the book either. Do we really need it? I can repeat the same comment again and again. Golshiri should know that we were emerging people, we wanted to change, we wanted to make a new world, yes, we were idealists. I do not like that realism of his. I did not like that life empty of love and compassion. I never understood why Prince Ehtejab should not have had the opportunity to improve himself. Should he not have given him a chance to depart from his ancestors’ history? Should he not have given him a chance to be a better person? Was it not cruel to make him doomed for no good reason? Golshiri can call it anything he wants, I just say I do not like the world which is doomed to be Evil. Even if the whole world is populated by Prince Ehatejab’s grandfathers I still recall many who were not like him. I wanted to hear the story of those that were good , those who changed for better, those who opened the windows and let the light in, those who could drag us into the street to demand goodness. I do not want the story about those who send us right to the sleeping pills bottles. I’m just talking about my preference.

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Chelleh, Nights of Vigilance

Never before have I seen such an uproar over celebrating and assimilating our Iranian holiday such as this year with our Yalda night. Many articles and discussions about its relation to Christmas or tying its origin to Mithra’s birthday have appeared in Iranian circles. It was claimed and confirmed by Google that Yalda, meaning Birth, is in fact a celebration of the birth of the old Iranian Sun God, and was later adopted by Christianity as Jesus' birthday. While driving with our friend Reza to the Persian Tea Room to celebrated Yalda with a group of Iranians, we talked over that topic since I was supposed to give a short talk on it. Reza was even quite willing to abandon the whole idea of Yalda being of Iranian origin rather than giving up its relation to Mithra and Christmas. He thought it might as well be a Roman holiday based on Iranian mythology which was re-adapted by the Iranians.

It seemed that Yalda was the only name that my audience in the Persian Tea Room knew for this holiday. They were a little perplexed when I reminded them there is an Iranian name for this celebration, Chelleh. They were further surprised to hear that this holiday is not only one night but continues for forty blessed nights.

But it was I who was more shocked than anyone else when I found out that I must be too old to know things so ancient that no one else seems to know. One thing I know for sure is that none of our holidays relate to any event or personage at all. (I do not include the anniversary of the revolution or other Islamic celebrations.) They are just celebrations of the arrangements of the cosmos, and very few of them have any further cultural attribute in addition to their cosmological one. Chelleh is one of them.

I think it is mostly the cosmological nature of these holidays which gives them such legitimacy and privileges so that we Iranian never needed to demand, or to provide, further explanation for their existence. However, during my 33 years in the United States, I have observed that the natural legitimacy we used to feel these holidays had are not sustained anymore, with the exception of Naw Rooz the Iranian New Year. This holiday coincides with the first day of Spring, which, as the season of growth, buds, and blossoms, enjoys such a status as a self-explanatory holiday that we were at some point puzzled that January first is the Western New Year. It seems to many of us still that Naw Rooz is a more legitimate New Year than others.

But, the lesser holidays seem do not enjoy this legitimacy fully; we consider them just another occasion for festivity, devoid of their cultural significance. Like everything else which do not have a function, usage, or a meaningful place in life, they become subject to our discretion as to when and how to be used, and if it causes disturbances, we might do without.

To maintain the survival of these national heritages, Iranians in exile have come up with the idea of assimilating their holidays into the closest Western holidays, either in form or meaning or both. For example Mehregan is compared with, and defined, as thanksgiving for the harvest time. Tiregan is quite regularly celebrated on the Fourth of July (at least up to this date.) The same goes with this winter holiday of Yalda, or, as I insist on calling it, Chelleh, which is linked to Christmas.

I think the problem is due to two little words, jashn and Yalda

We translate the word jashn as celebration, which it is not equivalent to a " jubilee", but it is taken as such. The appropriate meaning for both (Jashn and celebration) is “to cherish” “to uphold” but jashn in our old tradition has the slightly more esteemed meaning of “worship.” A glance at the Zoroastrian calendar makes its religious intend clear. If that does not accord with our modern perception of religion, it is definitely due to the nature of theological religions (Islam and Christianity) rather than the mode of worship. It is fair to assume that all the jashns are, in fact, some sort of religious act and therefore bear a religious significance, though different than our concept of “religious significance” in i.e., Islam.

The other problem is due to the use of the name Yalda, and regarding it within the order of Western calendar. We can notice that it reads totally different. Yalda is Aramaic for birth, and occurs within just a few days of Christmas. So, the current link and all the myths surrounding it and the celebration of Mithra's birth appears unavoidable .

But lets call this holiday by its Iranian name, Chelleh, which does not mean birth? And lets see how it is set within the Iranian calender, relevant to the seasonal changes, and also lets look at the component of the details of this celebration, what to eat , etc. After all, why do we need to accord our holiday to the Western calendar? Did our ancestors worry about the adjustment of their holidays to the Western calendar? Did my grandmother in Yazd knew that Mithra’s birthday, or Chelleh, is just "few days to Christmas?"

Let us look back to the old name along with its roots and set it against its original background and setting, namely the Zoroastrian calendar.

We all know that it is the longest night of the year and that we Iranians celebrate this night by gathering together and eating melons and pomegranates and apples and oranges. We know we have inherited this holiday from our Zoroastrian ancestors. But the question is, why we should celebrate the darkest night of the year? Was not darkness the most signal attribute of Ahriman? Is not the darkness, virtually or metaphorically, denounced as evil? Are not we the creation of light? Are we not supposed to denounce whatever is not from the realm of good? Then why should we celebrate this darkness, which has dominated our life and is going to be around for a while (forty days). Why not wait for February 17 when the light starts taking over the dark nights? Would it not be more suitable for a celebration?

Jose Saramago, A Portuguese Noble laureate, in his magnificent book Blindness, describes the evil of darkness. He tells us the story of an imaginary land which undergoes a temporary contagious disease of blindness. People of the region gradually become blind one after the other to the last. Then a period of murder, rape, plunder, exploitation, hunger, dirt, disease and death follows. It is only after they all regain their sight that they realize what horrifying creatures they might become if they would be out of sight and live under the curtain of darkness.

Nor was darkness as metaphor used only in ancient times. We still refer to any evil deeds as taking place in the darkness. We attribute darkness to whatever we do not have access, and consider it very risky when “we operate in the dark”. We hesitate to make uninformed decision and are wary of anything which is not under the light. We still contrast the darkness of the hidden with the light of exposed truth.

For our good religion, it was neither arbitrary nor vain to enshrine light as the most distinguished aspect of divinity and darkness as the most abhorrent elements of the realm of Ahriman. Given all the doctrines of our old religion, it seems very natural to call for vigilance and awareness when facing an approaching evil. It should not be difficult to imagine that wintertime could be used as a natural reminder of that metaphysical and cosmological darkness standing for evil and it should not be difficult to imagine that these long dark nights could be used as a stage to practice and drill what we should do in preparation of defending ourselves when real evil comes.

The world Chelleh, which does not signify birth, could shed light on the ambiguity surrounding this holiday. The word has three meanings: 1) a piece of cord woven separately along with fabric and used to bind together a roll of fabric. 2) The cord of a bow which holds the arrow about to be released. 3) The 40 days of fasting which pious men would observe in the company of elders or priests in a monastery or forest in an isolated place to purify themselves. This practice was common in Manichean tradition and referred to in related literature (Balvahar). It is this tradition which lends itself to the various sects of dervishes’ practice of purification and Moslems’ forty days of mourning.

Setting this holiday, with its Iranian name, against the background of the Zoroastrian calendar (where the holiday originated) with its very distinct cosmological nature, we could very well think of this holiday as a prescription to guard our good kingdom of light and truth against the enemy if the situation arises. Is there any better time to practice our defensive skill than these long dark nights? And is there any other vigilance better than staying awake and alert (eating citrus fruits and melons)? Is there any other protection better than being together, hand in hand? Is there any other way to alarm our enemy, informing them that we are not sleeping, by making noise (e.g., by cracking nuts)? Do we not know that evil spirits are mostly hiding in the woods behind the trees (so that we knock on wood to avoid evil spirits)? Do we not know that evil’s sense of hearing is the sharpest of his senses
(گوش شیطان کر). And what about pomegranates and watermelons? These are two fruits held in esteem by Manicheans for their red lights and seeds inside. And the traditional food? Eggplants are valued for their seeds signifying the mission of spreading the seed of goodness.

I recall how in 1988, when George Bush’s father was elected president there were those who had the foresight to predict the approaching horror, and half of the country was immersed in gloom and doom, Noam Chomsky, in answer to a journalist who asked how we could go through another four years of darkness, said “People should do what they are doing already, getting together, talking, writing, raising their voices to make sure they are heard. They should let their opposite party know their objections.” Whatever we can say about Chomsky, being Zoroastrian is not one of them, but see how close he is to describing our observance of Chelleh nights?

P.S.

On 2006 when I delivered my talk and wrote this article, I could not imagine that so soon we would have a real Chelleh, that for forty nights and days we should be alert, wise, together, hands in hands, raising our voice, fighting the Darkness.

Dec 19, 2009

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