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iran
July 2009 
Journey of separation
Posted on Dec 25th, 2006
by 
Farzad
Farzad
It really cannot be described in words. I couldn’t even come up with titles for this trip.
If you want to understand the emotions, you will need to go away…far away from your loved ones, live for 16 or 20 years and then…after more thana decade, pay a visit.
“So, are you going to see your family?”
“Yes, this is my second trip to see them.”
“When was the last time?”
“Last year, after seventeen years, I went back to Venezuela to see them.”
“That’s interesting, I am on my way…now…after sixteen years.”
“Don’t ever do that again, it’s not worth it.”
“I know … I will never do this again.”
This was my conversation with the lady sitting next to me on American Airlines from Chicago to London.
From the moment the plain took off, to the moment it arrived…actually…every moment, was an emotional moment stamped in time making a meaningful gesture.
The Trip:
The closer I got to my destination, the lesser were the meanings of “security, lines, checkpoints, etc.”. This was ironic. Because, flying from the Free America going through the civilized Europe, I went (and everyone else went) through very strict searches and tight security. But in Bahrain and Iran, supposedly backwards and third-world suppressive countries, the security and checkpoints were relaxed and hardly anyone was searched or even scanned.
Bahrain was an interesting stop. No, I did not spot Michael Jackson! Actually, at that time he was on a trip to Japan. But Bahrain reminded me of Qatar, where I grew up. Staying at a 5-star hotel (complements of the Gulf Air), Halal food was served next to all-you-can-drink bar. Yes! ALL YOU CAN DRINK wine buffet. That’s Bahrain.
Local Bahrainis, in the hotel and the airport, had a strong command of the English language, were very well educated and had great sense of hospitality. I will for sure visit Bahrain again, it was beautiful.
The Arrival:
The next day, Gulf Air took off for the city. THE CITY in the Middle East: the most visited city with the highest number of tourists in 2005, the city of poets and roses, the birthplace of Salman the Persian, Hafez, Mulla Sadra, and Saadi … and not to forget, MY birthplace: the city of Shiraz. You can read about Shiraz on this site: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shiraz%2C_Iran
How can I describe the moment when I saw the Persian Gulf meeting the dry lands of southern Iran? Describe the mountains and the roads viewed from air? I can’t describe the emotion, I just can’t.
The plain landed, my emotions were at this moment completely numb. Overwhelmed with thoughts: “how does my mom look like now? How grown up are my nieces, nephews…how has my big sister aged? How is my dad?”
The Visit:
Due to health reasons, my dad did not make it to the airport. But my mom, sister and her husband and kids made it and we went home from there. Yeeah yeah yeah…tears hugs and kisses. What else after sixteen years of not seeing each other? Arrived at home and my dad stared at me for a moment and then (pointing at me): “Who is this gentleman? Where is Farzad?” I kissed his hand and head (yes, in tears): “I am your son, Farzad”. Last time he saw me, I was 18!
The Change:
I will not bore you with details of family stuff, but let me tell you about Iran, Shiraz and it’s changes:
I was in Shiraz 20 years ago, in 1986:
1986: Posters of war, slogans, Quranic verses and hadith dominated the streets and billboards.
2006: Nokia, Pepsi, Apple (yes, Apple!), Nike, Adidas, and other brand names dominated the streets
1986: Hardly anyone without proper hijab
2006: hardly anyone with proper hijab
1986: Kids worried about war, world events and government affairs
2006: Kids worried about work, world cup, and couldn’t care less about the government and its affairs
1986: Very few grocery stores with limited items
2006: Grocery stores at every corner, even side-by-side with items that I could not find in the US, along with Coke and Pepsi cans with Farsi prints on them.
1986: Hardly any construction or hotels
2006: Hotel constructions, theme parks under construction, just constructions all over the place
The three weeks that I stayed there was awesome. Every minute of it had a meaning. We decided to drive from Shiraz to Khormuj (you can google map both cities and view the satellite photos). On the way, we hit a small town (Konar Takhteh). This town has only one traffic light, and on the corner of that traffic light, there is an Internet Café!
FAQ:
Here are some popular questions that friends have been asking me:
Q: “Any memories of the revolution?”
A: Yes. We often hear that the new generation has forgotten about the revolution. They have not. It is very evident that they have not.
Q: “Any memories of the war?”
A: You bet! Every street, every family and every town has martyrs from that war. Their names and pictures are up, not forgotten.
Q: “How is the economy?”
A: At least in Shiraz, I did not see any poor person. It’s a wealthy city with wealthy people. I noticed a few Afghani beggars here and there, but that was it.
Q: “Anyone worried about a possible US attack?”
A: No.
Q: “Did the people hate the government and Ahmadinejad?”
A: Rich people: yes. Poor people: no. Educated people: didn’t care.
Q: “Is media free?”
A: I counted at LEAST five news publications in Shiraz. In St. Louis, we only have one: The St. Louis Post Dispatch!
The Message:
On my way back, I met a butcher. He was, out of all people, a Bush fan! He asked me: “Has Katrina survivors gotten back to their homes?” I said: “I am not sure, I really don’t know.”
“Not to worry, Bush will take a good care of his own people, he is a good president!”, he replied with extreme assurance. He then asked me to send greeting to Bush. So, Mr. President, if you’re reading this, The Butcher of Shiraz says “salam”.
The Departure:
After three weeks, it was time again to say goodbye. I told my aunt that I would come back soon. “Make sure you come back to see me, not to pay a visit to my grave”, she said. I assured her that it will not be another sixteen years, perhaps maybe six months or so.
She passed away last month. I will be visiting her grave in my next trip.
If you are reading this and have family that you have not seen in a while, pay them a visit. Life is short.
“Listen to the reed as it tells its tale;
it complains of separation.
I wish for someone with a bosom torn apart by separation,
so that I can tell them the meaning of the pain of longing.”- Rumi
If you want to understand the emotions, you will need to go away…far away from your loved ones, live for 16 or 20 years and then…after more thana decade, pay a visit.
“So, are you going to see your family?”
“Yes, this is my second trip to see them.”
“When was the last time?”
“Last year, after seventeen years, I went back to Venezuela to see them.”
“That’s interesting, I am on my way…now…after sixteen years.”
“Don’t ever do that again, it’s not worth it.”
“I know … I will never do this again.”
This was my conversation with the lady sitting next to me on American Airlines from Chicago to London.
From the moment the plain took off, to the moment it arrived…actually…every moment, was an emotional moment stamped in time making a meaningful gesture.
The Trip:
The closer I got to my destination, the lesser were the meanings of “security, lines, checkpoints, etc.”. This was ironic. Because, flying from the Free America going through the civilized Europe, I went (and everyone else went) through very strict searches and tight security. But in Bahrain and Iran, supposedly backwards and third-world suppressive countries, the security and checkpoints were relaxed and hardly anyone was searched or even scanned.
Bahrain was an interesting stop. No, I did not spot Michael Jackson! Actually, at that time he was on a trip to Japan. But Bahrain reminded me of Qatar, where I grew up. Staying at a 5-star hotel (complements of the Gulf Air), Halal food was served next to all-you-can-drink bar. Yes! ALL YOU CAN DRINK wine buffet. That’s Bahrain.
Local Bahrainis, in the hotel and the airport, had a strong command of the English language, were very well educated and had great sense of hospitality. I will for sure visit Bahrain again, it was beautiful.
The Arrival:
The next day, Gulf Air took off for the city. THE CITY in the Middle East: the most visited city with the highest number of tourists in 2005, the city of poets and roses, the birthplace of Salman the Persian, Hafez, Mulla Sadra, and Saadi … and not to forget, MY birthplace: the city of Shiraz. You can read about Shiraz on this site: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shiraz%2C_Iran
How can I describe the moment when I saw the Persian Gulf meeting the dry lands of southern Iran? Describe the mountains and the roads viewed from air? I can’t describe the emotion, I just can’t.
The plain landed, my emotions were at this moment completely numb. Overwhelmed with thoughts: “how does my mom look like now? How grown up are my nieces, nephews…how has my big sister aged? How is my dad?”
The Visit:
Due to health reasons, my dad did not make it to the airport. But my mom, sister and her husband and kids made it and we went home from there. Yeeah yeah yeah…tears hugs and kisses. What else after sixteen years of not seeing each other? Arrived at home and my dad stared at me for a moment and then (pointing at me): “Who is this gentleman? Where is Farzad?” I kissed his hand and head (yes, in tears): “I am your son, Farzad”. Last time he saw me, I was 18!
The Change:
I will not bore you with details of family stuff, but let me tell you about Iran, Shiraz and it’s changes:
I was in Shiraz 20 years ago, in 1986:
1986: Posters of war, slogans, Quranic verses and hadith dominated the streets and billboards.
2006: Nokia, Pepsi, Apple (yes, Apple!), Nike, Adidas, and other brand names dominated the streets
1986: Hardly anyone without proper hijab
2006: hardly anyone with proper hijab
1986: Kids worried about war, world events and government affairs
2006: Kids worried about work, world cup, and couldn’t care less about the government and its affairs
1986: Very few grocery stores with limited items
2006: Grocery stores at every corner, even side-by-side with items that I could not find in the US, along with Coke and Pepsi cans with Farsi prints on them.
1986: Hardly any construction or hotels
2006: Hotel constructions, theme parks under construction, just constructions all over the place
The three weeks that I stayed there was awesome. Every minute of it had a meaning. We decided to drive from Shiraz to Khormuj (you can google map both cities and view the satellite photos). On the way, we hit a small town (Konar Takhteh). This town has only one traffic light, and on the corner of that traffic light, there is an Internet Café!
FAQ:
Here are some popular questions that friends have been asking me:
Q: “Any memories of the revolution?”
A: Yes. We often hear that the new generation has forgotten about the revolution. They have not. It is very evident that they have not.
Q: “Any memories of the war?”
A: You bet! Every street, every family and every town has martyrs from that war. Their names and pictures are up, not forgotten.
Q: “How is the economy?”
A: At least in Shiraz, I did not see any poor person. It’s a wealthy city with wealthy people. I noticed a few Afghani beggars here and there, but that was it.
Q: “Anyone worried about a possible US attack?”
A: No.
Q: “Did the people hate the government and Ahmadinejad?”
A: Rich people: yes. Poor people: no. Educated people: didn’t care.
Q: “Is media free?”
A: I counted at LEAST five news publications in Shiraz. In St. Louis, we only have one: The St. Louis Post Dispatch!
The Message:
On my way back, I met a butcher. He was, out of all people, a Bush fan! He asked me: “Has Katrina survivors gotten back to their homes?” I said: “I am not sure, I really don’t know.”
“Not to worry, Bush will take a good care of his own people, he is a good president!”, he replied with extreme assurance. He then asked me to send greeting to Bush. So, Mr. President, if you’re reading this, The Butcher of Shiraz says “salam”.
The Departure:
After three weeks, it was time again to say goodbye. I told my aunt that I would come back soon. “Make sure you come back to see me, not to pay a visit to my grave”, she said. I assured her that it will not be another sixteen years, perhaps maybe six months or so.
She passed away last month. I will be visiting her grave in my next trip.
If you are reading this and have family that you have not seen in a while, pay them a visit. Life is short.
“Listen to the reed as it tells its tale;
it complains of separation.
I wish for someone with a bosom torn apart by separation,
so that I can tell them the meaning of the pain of longing.”- Rumi
Access: Public
Wow. Thank you so much for sharing that Farzad. What an incredible and amazing experience, the kind of thing that makes us human and reminds me how beautiful that is.