Sweet Sohan

Ashura (10th Muharram)-- Pics

2006-06-23T23:00:00.000+03:30

It seemed a fitting day for such a tragic day. The sky was overcast and gray, and there was a light drizzle the whole time. This helped keep the day cool and bearable as we marched in the procession and observed the ceremonies. It also lent a sorrowful atmosphere to everything, and at the time I thought wow, rain in the desert, how special. But considering it was a desert, we saw several days of rain over winter and spring. I learn something new every day.

I don't know if I should say this, but I did "enjoy" myself. It's a nice atmosphere, where everyone is out, women, children, men, families, friends. Free drinks (juices, tea) and even some free food are served along the processional route. These are called "nazr" foods, as they are the result of someone's "nazr" or oath being satisfied. I know there's a term for this in English, but it escapes me. Basically you pray for something, and if it is fulfilled, in return you feed people.

When it was over, it was kind of sad because we'll have to wait again until next year for people to be in the same public space again. Even on this day, boys were "cruising" up and down the streets, and girls were giggling coyly as the boys walked by. The universality and inevitability of human mating rituals never cease to amaze.

Walking. Chanting as well, but I didn't know the words so I just listened. It sounded nice and melancholy.

A standard. The night before, these were lit up with lights and fire.

AliBob had the camera. The head tapping is a ritual expression of mourning. We women followed behind the men. The men were allowed to participate in other mourning rituals, while the women were only allowed to walk and do the head or chest tap. There was a lot of wailing on all sides.

Interesting art. AliBob can probably explain this better than I can.

More mourning.. the uniformity is interesting.

Many baby boys were dressed up in this outfit to represent Imam Hussain's 6-month old son who was shot dead with arrows when he lifted him up to ask for water for the children, who had been without water for 10 days in the desert in July.

The inside of part of the Imam Khomeini wing of the Masuma shrine. Beautiful and understated (as opposed to the mirror mosaics dominating everything else). This is also a common area where families can be together instead of segregated by gender.

Tehran- Pics-- 1

2006-06-23T01:34:00.000+03:30

Our Firoozeh Hotel Room. At 16 bucks a night, you can't beat it. Soft sheets, relatively clean (the hospitality industry in Iran needs a major pick-me-up, except in Mashhad, where it's fine. I've just pointed potential entrepreneurs to a lucrative niche, I'll accept a nominal percentage as my fee.)
*And* they have BBC World News, so that's definitely cool. And an awesome breakfast. What more could you want? BBC and food.. must be heaven.

And there is the aforementioned breakfast. Two super greasy fried eggs (just the way I like 'em!), tea, delicious rose/apple jam (or carrot, quince, sour cherry, etc.), butter, Turkish Noon-e-Barbari (the bread), Azeri feta cheese (phenomenal).
The Equal is my import for personal use.

We're in Park-e-.... I forget. Tehran has a lot of these parks. They're beautiful and quiet and cool and amazing places to people watch.. particularly the interactions between young men and women of courting age. Ahhh.... flirting under repression. It's a self portrait as you can tell, which is why we look dopey and glazed over.

Another view of the park:

These kinds of roses are EVERYWHERE in public spaces in Iran.. used as plantings throughout. But really, just behold my photographic genius. I think I was messing around with the macro function. I need to learn how to use the camera properly at some point.

We're Back!

2006-06-22T16:38:00.000+03:30

***This was originally written on May 3rd, 2006, but somehow never got posted. I just found it still languishing as a draft, so I'm posting it as is... captures my frustration.. I think I still need to work on the rage bit.***

Hey all,

I know I haven't written in a LONG time. I know you all have been dying to hear from me, and about our trip. With bated breath, of course. Right.

We will be leaving in another day or two to go off to Mashhad for a quick trip before I come back to the US. Yes folks, I'm coming back in 12 days. It's heartbreaking to leave AliBauble here all lonesome and wifeless for 3 months, but whatever, it's not like I cook so much or clean so much that my absence will be felt. Basically, he won't starve to death or die in a pit of filth, so that's good news.

I have a lot to say about our 2 week trip through Iran. We both do. I have several rants that, though inspired by Iran, are also a reaction to general worldviews and perceptions. Some of you have already heard me ranting via e-mail.

Let me give you some of the highlights, but first, let me preface this with the following. We've met many wonderful people here in the past 6 months. We know awesome Iranians back home as well. Even through our trip, we met a few very good people. Unfortunately, here goes the rant:

The vast majority of people we have encountered otherwise have been absolutely horrible. For a culture that is so "taarof" oriented (like takalluf in Urdu... formality in English is the closest thing I can think of), people are downright rude. I can't quite understand this bipolarness. If we are guests in someone's home, we're like a blessing sent down from god himself, but apparently if we're strangers on the street, we're not worthy of any respect.

Now the US has its problems, no doubt, and in many small white bread cities, I've heard of people having problems if they're ethnic minorities. But here, it was the big touristy cities that were the worst, particularly Esfahan.

We got stared at relentlessly. No, not a passing glance of curiosity, not even a subtle stare where just the eyes follow you. It was a full on, head swivelling, body turning stare as you walk past. There was hostility in the stares, there was disapproval, there was judgement. We got scammed, ripped off, touted, and even as a Muslim, my dear idealistic convert of a hubby was basically insulted.

I was stared at a lot, being an "Iranian" looking woman holding a white man's hand. I was covered from head to toe, better than many Iranian half-head hijabis, but I still felt as though I was walking around naked.

I was kicked out of an Esfahan teahouse for being a woman. That's okay though, because they let me in long enough to take our orders and let us eat a little bit before they came out to tell us there was a time limit, especially if the "family" (read "women") members were there. Apparently people complained that if I was allowed in, why weren't other women. Of course, let them in because he's a rich foreigner and kick them out because she's an Iranian woman, but make sure they buy something first.

They weren't too sure on their laws either. First it was "women are banned from all teahouses in Iran". Then, when we said we had no problems in Tehran or Shiraz, it became just Esfahan. I was in a rage. In some ways, I still am.

This leads me to another annoying thing. This happened a while ago, during the 9th of Muharram festivities at the Holy Shrine. First, I was wearing the following: Baggy black pants, a long sleeved black shirt, a long black abaya/jilbab (overgarment), a big black Arab style hijab that falls past my chest and down my elbows. On top of all this, wrapping me up was also a big black chador that drags on the ground. It was 9:45 pm at night, and I was also cornered into the TINY space behind a column where there were ONLY women, while men got the choice viewing space as well as room to walk around and maneuver in the rest of the courtyard.

As I raised my hand to take a picture of the scene, my unhampered animal sexuality conspired with gravity and my sleeves fell a few inches, revealing some quite tantalizing, if a bit broad and mannish, wrists. As I snapped a picture, a big rainbow duster was smacked down on my wrist from above and behind me and everyone looked. I turned around to see an old man and my first thought was that maybe pictures weren't allowed (although odd, since I'd been snapping away for a good 15 or 20 minutes). He said something and I didn't catch it through the drums and cymbals and screams and chants. He also refused to look at me the whole time. Finally, sweet Fatemeh, standing a few people away, reached over people and in a hurry yanked up my sleeve and showed me how to clutch it up to my palm with my thumb.

I was humiliated. I felt like I had shown up naked. I felt like I was filthy and improper. These 3 inches of wrist, showing in a women's section, had almost led to the breakdown of all that is moral and proper. But why was this man looking at me?!?!

No problem, I rolled my eyes and kept going. I got up on my tiptoes, being careful to clutch my chador against my chest with one hand and holding my sleeve up AND snapping pictures with my other hand. Eventually, hand number one had to go help hand number two to keep steady as I peered up at the screen, and again, gravity and my innate desire to be naked caused my chador to slip off my head onto my shoulders. I don't think I thought anything of it, because well, it was all black, it was night time, and I was in the women's section. I felt another smack, this time on my head, and I was so confused. It had to have been a joke. Even most of my forehead was covered, so what was I getting in trouble for now?

So I turned around again (as did everyone in a 15 foot radius because people LOVE looking here) and again, he refused to look at me... looked above and past me and muttered something. Quickly, two ladies who had been making conversation with me reached over together and lifted my chador back up over my head and gave it to me to clutch tightly under my chin.

My Persian is limited, but I said loudly enough for people to hear that chador is NOT Islamic, it's Iranian culture and I'm wearing Islamic hijab, and why is he looking at me anyway?! One of the ladies said apologetically "Iran is hard, especially Qom. Qom is bad."

Okay. This is disjointed and not smooth. I just can't seem to put this all in a nice and flowing way because all this negativity is obstructing the flow. The shrine incident was annoying and eventually that night, I laughed it off. Why? Because, thank the Fates and the Good Lord, I don't have to live in this Godforsaken place permanently. Okay. Godforsaken is harsh. But I've just about had it with being held responsible for the accident of being born with a vagina and breasts. The last few months, and especially the last 2 weeks, have really taken a toll. It's one thing after another.

I have a lot of simmering resentment from the past 6 months, but I feel that in a way, it goes way beyond just the past 6 months into a whole lifetime of how Islam has been interpreted and implemented, particularly for women.

In Shiraz, I couldn't go into another shrine without a chador. Fine, I rented a used icky one and went in. In another sightseeing only mosque, I saw a European woman tourist come out with a half hijab and a long-ish button down shirt and pants. As AliBauble and I paid for our tickets to go in, the man told me chador was compulsory, so he handed me one he had sitting in there. Okay, I JUST saw a woman NOT wearing a chador come out of the mosque so clearly it's not compulsory. I just kept quiet and took it.

This whole time, I had my head, neck and entire body covered with fabric, and only my hands and face were showing, as is the requirement. Don't worry though, because although I must abide by Iranian law (though I'm a foreigner with an American passport), we still payed "khaariji" or foreigner prices for everything.

Okay. More to follow eventually. For now, here are pictures from the 9th of Muharram, on February 8th, 2006:

Above, notice where our barricade begins and how much space is behind the men. They could have moved it up a little more without causing the breakdown of society's moral fabric. I think though, women being as persistent as they are, eventually they started trying to creep forward. Kudos to the women here, many tend to argue and find little ways of defying annoying rules.

Flags, people.

Red Crescent volunteers; a few men passed out in the "mosh pit" area from heat exhaustion or emotion or.. something and had to be carried out. This "stage" (under the black banner) is also where all the groups from the different countries and organizations rotated in and paused to perform/chant/mosh.

One of many standards that people carried, several were lit with fire but it was hard to get good pictures.

The Iranian flag featured prominently along with all the other religious paraphernalia.

I got a bunch of videos too... those were especially good to give a feel for the "festive" atmosphere... chaotic and frenzied and passionate with loud pounding drums and cymbals. I can understand why people look forward to these 10 days every year.

Wait....we're not done yet

2006-06-22T13:32:00.000+03:30

Hey all..

I know I haven't written on this in forever. I got busy. It's lame. Also, we had fairly regular internet problems and so the blog fell to the bottom of the priority list.

I had a LOT more stuff to stay towards the end of my sojourn in Iran... and it's interesting timing for that LA Times article to have come out when it did... it reminded us of our rosy-picture days when we first got to Iran.

I'm back in the US (can I even begin to tell you how glad I am to be back?!?!) and living in Baltimore. With my sister. And mice. And ants. But no husband.

Calculus is killing me, but it'll be over next week and the slow death will begin again with Chem II... and yet, slow deaths are supposed to be a good thing. Oh wait, that's LITTLE deaths. Nevermind.

I have a slew of pictures to put up from Iran because I now have high speed internet. They're long overdue, starting from our day in London (on our trip OVER to Iran)... and our 2 week trip through the land.

I think it's good that I've let time pass before I post my thoughts on here because, while they'll still be mostly unedited/uncensored and most likely misconstrued like much of my verbal diarrhea is, I think I'll manage to keep the rage to a minimum and even laugh about it. Sort of.

Soon, I'll be posting a list (in no particular order) of some of our most awful experiences in Iran... and some of them definitely mirror Brian's list of annoying things in the Middle East (LINES, people, LINES!), others are more personal things.

Take care.. and now send me good math/science vibes.

~s

Thanks for Reading

2006-06-09T15:42:00.000+03:30

Hi all,

Thanks for reading the blog over the past months, but I think we're done for now. No time to put up anything new, sadly.

However, please do browse the links to the right if you're interested in learning more about Iran.

Best,
Robert

LA Times Story

2006-05-28T19:01:00.000+03:30

Hi all, Salaam!

Many of you found this site through the recent LA Times story--thanks for stopping in.

For other friends and family, the story is linked here: http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/la-fg-qom27may27,1,2465412,full.story

Not bad overall, though there are a few minor points of error, mostly personal/date facts, but really just fine points that can't always come out in a single article. But we hope it gives Americans a bit more insight into the reality of life in Iran, its people, and culture.

Some of those things...

It wasn't quite so much a notion of religious calling that took me to Iran. Yes, that was there, but the real reason was for my studies. Even were I to become a non-Muslim, I would still return to Iran over the years for my work--it's that important. My own journey was there too, and was significant, but was not the primary reason I came.

I don't have a beard anymore! :)

I consider myself really a convert to Islam, rather than to Shii Islam specifically. I think those designations and divisions are really not important, and don't matter much after a specific stage of understanding. Though in general I like the way the Shii law and methodology has developed better and I am more persuaded by the view of history, succession of the Prophet, etc. as presented by Shiis (though much of these views were also held and advocated by the great Sunni scholars--see Mottahadeh's book on how 3 of the 4 founders of the still-extant Sunni legal schools were all supporters of Ali's political claims, at least).

My time in the LA punk scene was more early to mid 1980's, not late 1980's. By the time Eazy E, NWA, Ice T, BDP, and Public Enemy were releasing music, I was already into the rap scene. And "pre-Eminem" meant, white suburban kids in low riders and bass before Em was making music. I don't remember saying "rebellion for rebellion's sake", especially since the punk scene was especially crucial in shaping my ethical and moral attitudes, but maybe I meant cruising, drinking lots of alcohol, and not caring about school was some sort of wayward, futile rebellion.

An Arabic linguist mostly fixing hummers in Camp LeJeune? Sadly, that's true! Not the best use of all those hours of study...

Yes, I used some GI Bill $$ to fund my pricey private university, but it was nowhere near enough and the good old U of R basically reduced my other grants when they found out I got the GI Bill (and wouldn't promise to restore them if I saved my GI Bill for later) and that's a grudge I still carry today. Hope that explains why I never send alumni contributions!

Though Johnston was the best place to get an undergraduate and life education and I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Yes, my wife is chatty, though we're not quite sure what secular means in this sense. But Borzou is incisive, so he was probably on to something there!

My parents don't quite live/work where it says they do, but it's close enough.

Our BBC Prime doesn't work any more. But that's ok, Eastenders is no fun without Sara here anyway.

Sara taught Ayatollah Ardebeli's family more than Ayat. Sistani's, but because they're interrelated and because most people reading that article don't know Ardebeli but do know Sistani, it got reported that way. She also taught a family member of Mujtaba Lari, the famous contemporary Shii author. A lot of folks in these power circles know one another.

The blog post where Sara said to the shopkeeper that it's the American government that's bad was just her literal translation of the simple Persian sentence she was able to construct. We both love America, our Constitution, Bill of Rights, etc. But like around 60% of our fellow Americans, we are not huge fans of our current government. But hey, that's democracy!

I'm not really that turned off with the government's mixing of politics and religion--that is in some way the people here have agreed to conduct their affairs and that's their right. Again, there is a spectrum here of ideas about politics and religion in Iran and I prefer to observe that rather than give any prescriptions about it.

However, I was annoyed that the government would use a religious site that is the property of all Muslims to promote it's own, national agenda. We had a worse experience praying at Imam Reza's shrine in Mashhad, where after the prayer, the young man led (some) of the people through a standardized semi-religious, semi-political "prayer" including some political statements that don't apply to non-Iranian Muslims. Quite annoying.

And the thing about materialism meant, as I said in the last post's comments, that the question is attached to the assumption that since we are Americans, we have lots of money. Of course, we have so much school debt that I blush to mention it here. Suffice it to say, we are accepting donations...

I think that covers it.

We're happy to take any more questions and comments--post away!

~Robert

Sad, Bittersweet, Sweet

2006-05-23T14:09:00.000+03:30

Hi All,

There's a bit of all of the above to go around. Sara and I are back from our trip around Iran, after much hassle, never-ending visa problems (ok, it finally ended), and other assorted pains in the neck. But really, I'm the only one back in Qom, as my lovely wife has already left for much greener pastures as she gets ready to start her pre-medical, post-baccalaurate program in just a few days. But I'm not Paki-less! My friend and fellow PhD student from UVa, Rizwan, is in Qom for the summer, trying to learn some Persian and setting things up for his anticipated dissertation research here in a year or so.

Since Sara always gets on the blog and blabbers about her family, I thought I'd do a little bit myself...

First, the sad. My cousin Anthony passed away much too young. You can take a look at the great web site his brothers Chris and Jeff made here: www.anthonymazzetta.com

Next, the bittersweet. My "uncle" (great-uncle) Bill Taylor also passed away recently. He and Aunt Peg always sent me birthday cards when I was a kid, even though I always thought "who are these people again?" As time went on, I got to spend more time with them as they left Montana for California to visit family more often--or perhaps I was just around more often? You can read his death notice here: http://www.legacy.com/BillingsGazette/Obituaries.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonId=17619367

Finally, the sweet. Watch the Goldstein/Sims clan (Uncle Alan and cousins Karyn and Ben) of Santa Cruz get medieval with a Crossfit "Workout of the Day": http://media.crossfit.com/cf-video/goldstein-sims.wmv . Better them than me.

~Robert

Still here...there, and everywhere

2006-04-24T19:24:00.000+03:30

Salaam and Hello All,

We are alive and kicking, just not in Qom.

We are currently on a jaunt through Iran and will be home and reporting on the good, the bad, and the UGLY when we get back.

Love and Peace,

Sara and Irfan Ali/Robert

More Travel Tips for Tehran

2006-04-02T07:31:00.000+03:30

We made it back to Tehran for a few days to take care of some business and this time stayed at Firouzeh Hotel (http://www.firouzehhotel.com/language_english/Facilities.htm) as mentioned in an earlier blog. Lonely Planet really missed the ball on this one by leaving it out of their guide. Firouzeh was clean, as were (most importantly) the shared bathrooms, all of which also had a Western-style toilet (something not mentioned on Firouzeh's site).

We got a special deal for $10 per night which was a steal, but even at the standard $16 per night it's a bargain. The rooms were clean, shower had good water pressure and always had hot water. The hotel was quiet in general. Breakfast was included and was fantastic, including some cheese from northern Iran which was sharp and delicious. Some people stay elsewhere but come to Firouzeh for breakfast because it's cheap and delicious.

Finally, Mr. Mousavi, who runs the place day to day was very kind and helpful. He's got the low down on everything to see and do and will hook you up with whatever you need. Oh, there's also a "coffee net", meaning internet access which they plan to expand beyond their current one machine. A great guest book has lots of tips and tricks from visitors worldwide.

(The entrance to the Tehran metro at Imam Khomeini Square. The NYC subway it ain't...)

The part of town Firouzeh is located in isn't too bad for a base to explore Tehran. While it is crammed in among car parts and camping tents stores, it is close to the fantastically clean, modern, and cheap (7 cents or so per ride) Tehran metro, which can get you to most places in the city without the time and pollution of a taxi. It is also close to the massive Tehran bazar where we sadly were unable to find the bra that plays the macarena. However, friends tell us that that part of Tehran becomes incredibly smoggy during summer time. Even if true, the charms of Firouzeh make that a small sacrifice.

(Two friends and coworkers in the Tehran bazar--10 or perhaps 20 square kilometers of shopping with all the amenities of a city--restaurants, guesthouses, mosques, etc.)

The scuttlebutt is that Lonely Planet realized the error of their ways and will be including Firouzeh in their next edition...

While we forgot to take snaps of Firouzeh, we did take a picture of the delicious Indian food served at the restaurant of the Sefir Hotel, listed in Lonely Planet, and right around the back of the former (and monstrously huge) American Embassy. It was everything we had expected the Indo-Pak food at Atlas Hotel to be, but wasn't. The ambiance was great and the food, while not 100% authentic, measured up at least at 95% and was quite good. Prices are much higher than for traditional Iranian food, but that's the cost of eating foreign cuisine in Iran. In any case, it's still a bit cheaper than a comparable meal in the USA.

Iranian Earthquakes

2006-03-31T20:47:00.000+03:30

Salaam/Hello/Peace Everyone,

We are fine and weren't at all affected in Qom by the earthquakes in Western Iran. The quakes seem to have caused significant damage and loss of life, though not as bad as other quakes in the region. Like in Pakistan, basics are in short supply--so please donate to any relief agencies that are able to provide help.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(photos and text from CNN)

http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/meast/03/31/earthquake.iran/index.html

Iran quakes: Death toll rising

Dozens dead, hundreds injured from series of temblors

(CNN) -- A series of earthquakes struck western Iran early Friday, killing dozens and flattening entire villages.

At least 66 people were killed and 988 injured, a medical official in Lurestan province told the official IRNA news agency.

The state-run news service put the magnitude of the quake at 6.0, and the U.S. Geological Survey pegged the temblor at 5.7.

The quakes were centered near Boroujerd and Doroud, two industrial cities about 210 miles southwest of Tehran, the official Islamic Republic News Agency reported.
Provincial official Ali Barani said about 200 villages were damaged, some flattened, The Associated Press reported.

U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice -- speaking during a visit to England -- said the United States was prepared to send humanitarian assistance if it was required.
The quake was sandwiched between two less-intense quakes measuring 4.7 in magnitude. All three quakes hit the region during a nine-hour period, with the first one hitting western Iran Thursday about 7:45 p.m. (1645 GMT)

Barani told IRNA rescue teams had been sent to the region. He said survivors were in urgent need of blankets, tents and food.

Television showed survivors standing next to their destroyed houses in villages north of Doroud. The television also showed dozens of sheep and goats killed by the quake.

Barani said hospitals in Doroud and Boroujerd were full to their capacity.

Officials called on doctors and nurses on leave to get back to work, AP reported. Iranians are celebrating Nowruz, or new year, and most government offices are closed and their staff on holiday.

"We are afraid to get back home. I spent the night with my family and guests in open space last night," Doroud resident Mahmoud Chaharmiri told AP by telephone.
But Chaharmiri said there were no scenes of destruction in Doroud such as those after previous quakes.

In February 2005, a 6.4-magnitude quake rocked the town of Zarand in southern Iran, killing 612 people and injuring more than 1,400.

A magnitude-6.6 quake flattened the historic southeastern city of Bam in the same region in December 2003, killing 26,000 people.

Iran is located on seismic fault lines and is prone to earthquakes. It experiences at least one slight earthquake everyday on average, AP reported.

How to be a Muslim Reformer

2006-03-24T08:59:00.000+03:30

Hello, Peace, Salaam Everybody,

This post is a sort of part-two on the last one about the US government's ham-fisted approach to "reform" in the Muslim world. I'm posting a pithy blog from elsewhere that pokes fun at those so-called "Muslim reformists" that so many in the US seem to think are going to be the great saviors of the Muslim masses. What they miss is that these folks are deficient in their grounding and understanding of Islam and Islamic sources and seem more intent on puffing up their egos instead of doing something real and profound for Muslims and the rest of humanity.

Who are the good folks? Just Google the following names for a range of Muslim scholars who know what they're talking about: Abou El Fadl, Sachedina, Soroush, Kadivar, Al Naim, Omid Safi, Ebrahim Moosa, Algar, and that's just for starters. While we might not agree with all of them or all of what they say, it is among such scholars that Western governments and intellectuals ought to be looking, not the dry deserts of Manji, Sultan, Ibn Warraq, et al.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
http://www.aqoul.com/archives/2006/03/how_to_be_a_mus.php

March 13, 2006

How to be a Muslim reformer

After reading an article on Wafa Sultan (the up-and-coming Muslim reformer) in the New York Times today, it occured to me that I should get on this reformer bandwagon before the market gets saturated. I'm articulate, telegenic, exotic (yet oh so fluffy and Westernized), not to mention female (oppressed by rigid Islamic paternalism, naturally). Too bad I've got so many other little schemes on the go and can't spare the time for this one. However, I've written a handy little guide for aspiring refuseniks, male or female, Muslim or non-Muslim. Hopefully it will inspire readers to lead the charge in enlightening the benighted Islamic world.

1. Keep it simple. First and foremost, don't bother actually studying the religion or recent MENA history. Take a page from Pundita's book: no need for research when you're painting with a really big brush. If you absolutely must research, this site is a treasure trove of convenient black and white stereotyping.

2. Have an angle. Find or manufacture a useful "turning point" in your life that made you realize Islam was a bigoted and/or violent religion. In Irshad Manji's case, it was being kicked out of her madrasa for demanding proof of a Jewish conspiracy. For Wafa Sultan, it was watching the Muslim Brotherhood kill a professor at her university in Aleppo. Of course, it's helpful not to mention Hafez Assad's response. I recall Irshad was all for Emergency Law in Egypt because Naguib Mahfouz was roughed up by some Islamist thugs: "Excuse me, but if that's a reason to maim (and possibly kill), it's equally a reason for security forces to crack down on the thugs. Bring on the Emergency Law" (128).

Ahem, moving on...

3. Write a book. Start holding interviews just prior to (or immediately after) publishing a book that claims to spearhead a reform movement and/or turn the Islamic world on its head. Tell the NYT that the working title is The Escaped Prisoner: When God Is a Monster, because The Trouble with Islam Today is simply too namby-pamby.

4. Become a Western media darling. Be extremely provocative. Make rude statements about Islam and those who follow it. Make sure to have an itemized list of every horrible act commited by Muslims, rulers of Muslim-majority countries, Caliphs, etc. Make fun of Arabs and how childish and barbaric they are compared to Jews and Christians (or in Irshad's case, go one step further and blame everything on the "Arabization" of Islam. Don't bother to mention any similar acts carried out in the name of other Abrahamic religions or even atheist ideologies, such as Communism. This is supposed to be an indictment against Islam, not the vile predictability of human nature and perverse incentives.

5. Remind people that you are constantly under siege. Make sure the media is fully aware of every single death threat you receive as a result of the aforementioned provocative statements. If you're lucky, some wacko will release a fatwa that demands you be stoned, beheaded or strung up in some elaborate medieval way.

6. Rake in the cash. Watch as speaking invitations roll in from hardline right-wing Israeli and US organizations. No, it's not a Jewish conspiracy, but for some odd reason they are in full agreement with your views on Islamic reform. You're definitely on the way to winning Muslim hearts and minds if they're supporting you!

7. Remember your audience. Don't bother engaging Muslims in a respectful yet frank discussion on how to remain faithful to the Prophet's message in our modern, globalized, polarized, terrorized world. You don't even need to talk to Muslims, unless it's to get the extremists frothing at the mouth. Being a true visionary is hard work and requires far too much study, which leaves you hardly any time for gala dinners with pretentious, xenophobic ultra-liberal or ultra-conservative (really, does it matter?) activists who will praise you as a model Muslim making a real difference in the Islamic world.

Of course this list is by no means exhaustive. Readers are free to offer their own advice, sarcastic comments, etc.

[Thanks to Eva Luna for bringing the original NYT article to my attention]

Why Doesn't the US Government Read this Blog?

2006-03-14T13:36:00.000+03:30

Hello/Salaam All,

From looking at the tracking data, it seems that our visitors are mostly friends and family. I was a bit disappointed not to see any governmental-looking hits. I suppose I figured at least somebody in one of the various diplomatic, intelligence, and/or military branches would have found the site and found something useful on it.

But alas, Bush just announced his newest plan to "spread democracy" to Iran. When I first heard of it a few weeks back I had to scratch my head and try to figure out how anybody thought that it was a good idea. This new plan just set the US ten years back on any improvements they'd have hoped to make. The Washington Post article pretty much exposes the flaws of W's newest Crusade, so please read on.

Honestly, in some entries in our blog and some of fellow blogger Brian Anthony in Syria's blogs, we've already given a better (and free) guide to how the US ought to engage with Iran (among others) than anything any government organ seems to have come up with. Actually, there are probably some good folks in the government who understand, but it appears none of them have the ears of those in charge...whoever is making decisions there has absolutlely no grasp on the lives, culture, religion, and dreams of the people of this part of the world.

And that's not good for anybody.

Peace,
Irfan Ali/Robert
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
U.S. Push for Democracy Could Backfire Inside Iran

By Karl Vick and David FinkelWashington Post Foreign ServiceTuesday, March 14, 2006; A01

TEHRAN -- Prominent activists inside Iran say President Bush's plan to spend tens of millions of dollars to promote democracy here is the kind of help they don't need, warning that mere announcement of the U.S. program endangers human rights advocates by tainting them as American agents.

In a case that advocates fear is directly linked to Bush's announcement, the government has jailed two Iranians who traveled outside the country to attend what was billed as a series of workshops on human rights. Two others who attended were interrogated for three days.

The workshops, conducted by groups based in the United States, were held last April, but Iranian investigators did not summon the participants until last month, about the time the Bush administration announced plans to spend $85 million "to support the cause of freedom in Iran this year."

"We are under pressure here both from hard-liners in the judiciary and that stupid George Bush," human rights activist Emad Baghi said as he waited anxiously for his wife and daughter to emerge from interrogation last week. "When he says he wants to promote democracy in Iran, he gives money to these outside groups and we're in here suffering."

The fallout illustrates the steep challenge facing the Bush administration as it seeks to play a role in a country where American influence is called unwelcome even by many who share the goal of increasing democratic freedoms.
"Unfortunately, I've got to say it has a negative effect, not a positive one," said Abdolfattah Soltani, a human rights lawyer recently released from seven months in prison. After writing in a newspaper that his clients were beaten while in jail, Soltani was charged with offenses that included spying for the United States.

"This is something we all know, that a way of dealing with human rights activists is to claim they have secret relations with foreign powers," said Soltani, who co-founded a human rights defense group with Nobel laureate Shirin Ebadi. "This very much limits our actions. It is very dangerous to our society."

Activists here said the Bush initiative demonstrates the chasm that often separates those working inside Iran for greater freedoms -- carefully calibrating their actions to nudge incremental changes in a hostile system -- and the more strident approach of many Iranian exiles who often have the ear of Washington policymakers.

"Our society is very complicated," said Vahid Pourostad, editor of National Trust, a new newspaper aligned with Iran's struggling reform movement. "Generally speaking, it is impossible to impose something from outside. Whatever happens will happen from inside.

"It seems to me the United States is not studying the history of Iran very carefully," Pourostad said. "Whenever they came and supported an idea publicly, the public has done the opposite."

Advocates and ordinary Iranians say the U.S. project also may suffer from poor timing. Just four years ago, the Iranian public's appetite for greater freedom was vibrant here, with a reformist president, Mohammad Khatami, returned to office in a landslide and his allies in control of parliament.

But public disillusionment grew steadily as the reformists failed to wrest crucial powers from the appointed clerics who control much of the power in Iran's theocratic system of government. The clerics cemented their grip by excluding dissenters from subsequent elections.

At the same time, hard-liners in the government maintained relentless pressure against independent institutions, closing more than 100 newspapers and jailing students by the hundreds. Many had ventured into the streets at the encouragement of satellite TV stations run by exile groups that breathlessly announced a new revolution in the offing.

"They said I would be joined by millions," said one student, who endured a beating by paramilitary militiamen unleashed against the demonstrators. "I just got beat up."

Today, Pourostad said, the capacity for civil society is so depleted that homeowners cannot be bothered to protest the cutting of trees in an eastern Tehran park to make way for a freeway extension.

"If such a thing had happened four or five years ago, the newspapers could have mounted a social movement," he said. "Now, we can put it in the paper, but we can't create a social wave. A disaster happens, but we can't do anything about it."

The Bush administration is asking Congress for $75 million in emergency funding to promote democracy in Iran, in addition to $10 million already budgeted. Most of the money, $50 million, would be spent to build a satellite television station. The plan also calls for $5 million each for scholarships and public diplomacy that includes fostering independent media inside Iran.
The final $15 million would go toward nongovernmental organizations and civic education on the lines of what the federally chartered National Endowment for Democracy carries out in a wide variety of countries.

"It's going to be hard for them to spend it here," said a diplomat at a European embassy in Tehran, who spoke on condition of anonymity. The diplomat refused to be identified because the embassy has had some success with a program aimed at fostering reform in one Iranian ministry and publicity could make it a target of hard-liners.

"There is a downside," the diplomat said. "There always is. And they'll have to be clever about how they spend it."

Iran on Monday lodged a formal complaint against the Bush plan through the U.S. Interests Section at the Swiss Embassy here. At the same time, Iran's parliament allocated the equivalent of $15 million to "probe and defuse" U.S. conspiracies and interventions in the country, according to the official Islamic Republic News Agency.

The experience of Baghi's group is cast as a cautionary tale for all concerned, including a prosecutor notorious for using arrests and detention to make examples.

Baghi, 44, has been prominent in Iran's reform movement for a decade. Once a theology student, he worked in sociology and came to prominence as an investigative journalist. After writing articles that exposed the role of Iran's Intelligence Ministry in the murders of dissidents in the 1990s, he served three years in prison.

After his release he started a newspaper, Jumhuriyat. Prosecutors closed it after 13 issues. He then founded the Society for Protecting Prisoners' Rights, a group that provides free attorneys for inmates and lobbies Iran's judiciary for due process and humane treatment.

Baghi said a friend in Europe approached him 16 months ago with a proposal to send members of the group to Dubai for a "human rights workshop." The friend gave the impression the United Nations was involved, Baghi said.
Unable to attend because authorities continue to withhold his passport, Baghi sent three other members of the rights group: his wife, Fatehmeh Kamali; their adult daughter, Maryam Baghi; and Ali Afsahi, a cleric turned film critic. Kamali's nephew, Ehsan, a law student who lived with them, went along for the ride, Baghi said.

By all accounts, the workshops did not go well. "They were very angry about this trip," Baghi wrote his friend in an e-mail. "They felt offended and insulted."
Quoting his wife, who was not available to be interviewed because of her interrogation, Baghi said the workshops offered only rudimentary training in human rights. Other sessions highlighted popular revolts in Serbia, Ukraine and elsewhere. The three Iranians were the only participants and were moved from one hotel to another by the organizers, who conjured an air of cloak and dagger, Baghi said.

"You know what a vulnerable situation we have here in Iran," Baghi wrote. "It was not a good thing to invite us to such a workshop."

Peter Ackerman, who chairs the Washington group that ran a portion of the workshops, took issue with Baghi's description. Ackerman said the International Center on Nonviolent Conflict promotes the potential of nonviolent change by highlighting experiences in formerly oppressive countries, as depicted in the film "A Force More Powerful," which was screened in Dubai.
Baghi's group left Dubai early, saying the workshops were not what they had expected. Back in Iran, their attendance brought no immediate repercussions, even though it apparently was known to government security services. Baghi said the intelligence office of the Higher Education Ministry asked his daughter about the trip while vetting her for a graduate degree four months ago.
Then on Feb. 12, with reports emerging in Washington of the Bush initiative, Afsahi was taken into custody. Ehsan Kamali, the law student, was detained at a filling station four days later. Both remain in solitary confinement in Evin Prison in the north of Tehran, their condition unknown.

Baghi's wife and daughter were summoned to a prosecutor's office last Tuesday, when a Washington Post reporter arriving for a previously scheduled appointment found Baghi cursing Bush. The women were questioned into the night for three days by deputies of the Tehran prosecutor, Said Mortazavi, the government's most widely feared enforcer.

Diplomats said pressure on individuals has increased since the election of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as president and the showdown over Iran's nuclear ambitions.

"The people who did this workshop don't realize what kind of world we live in here," Baghi said. "Here, we've got Mortazavi and the system behind him. The other side has got the U.S. and its money. The pressure is on people who are trying to promote human rights inside the country.

"I feel Ahmadinejad and President Bush are like two blades of a scissor."

Ackerman took a different view.
"The question is: Why are they going to jail?" he said. "What kind of people are sending these people to jail? What's going on here is wrong. It's despicable."

Finkel reported from Washington.

© 2006 The Washington Post Company

Tehran, Lonely Planet Style

2006-03-05T18:59:00.001+03:30

Peace and Hello All,

We got back a few days ago from five days in the big city--Tehran. Millions of people, 10 football (soccer) teams, and the very boundary of religiously acceptable clothing.

We had two purposes: 1. For me to attend a symposium on third party gamete and embryo donation according to medicine, ethics, religion, law, etc.; and 2. To celebrate Sara's birthday with a nice little trip.

Of course, Sara caught some virus so was laid up and ill for most of the time. So not too many pictures of fun being had, sights being seen, and so forth. But what we can provide is some insight for fellow travelers to Tehran, particularly those using the Lonely Planet guidebook.

I started using LP about ten years ago and found it better than the other guidebooks I used in my post-military/pre-college Europe trip. Since then I've used LP for trips to Egypt, Syria and Jordan, India, Taiwan, Malaysia, France, and Europe. Now I'm putting them to use here in Iran.

First things first--lodging. We decided to stay at LP Iran's editor's pick for Tehran, the (in)famous Hotel Naderi. Though some have complained recently that the staff there was none too friendly, we found quite the opposite. All were very helpful, kind, and welcoming.

(Hotel Naderi's funky lobby)

However, other critiques of the Naderi's new room rates ($30/night for a double) were correct. Perhaps Naderi was a good value at $20 as listed in LP, but now the value is only so-so (especially without including breakfast). While some of the LP's editor's romantacism about Hotel Naderi's 40's decor was correct, it didn't quite live up to its billing, particularly with regard to the room itself. The room was servicable, but the carpet was filthy. Not a bad view outside of the window from our "garden room" though. The TV didn't work, nor did it get fixed.

(Next time we're thinking of Firouzeh Hotel--which is NOT listed in the LP but which is mentioned on their discussion board. It's about half the price and the owners were very helpful to us over email, but the big downfall is no in-room bathroom. Firouzeh is definitely worth checking out if that's not an issue for you. http://www.firouzehhotel.com/language_english/Facilities.htm)

The attached Naderi Cafe wasn't too bad. Hailed as the place where certain Iranian intellectuals sipped coffee and smoked cigarettes, we found it to have an intellectual or two, though it was hard to tell through all the smoke. It seems today the patrons are largely bored Tehrani youth in the latest fashions, flirting, smoking, and then smoking some more. Sara's French coffee was weak, but my Turkish coffee wasn't bad at all. Certainly worth a visit, but more for a sociological understanding of Tehran's youth rather than for any semblance of a cafe in Paris. The old "granddad" waiters were nice enough and have probably been there since the Shah's time...

Another cafe, "French Pastry" or something on Enqelab avenue, by Tehran University wasn't bad. Like Naderi Cafe it had a great scent of coffee, which I sorely miss in coffeeless Qom (except for a daily dose of Nescafe...). Decent pasteries and ice creams--we had "Chocolate Gilass" which was chocolate milk with scoops of chocolate ice cream. Not bad, but Iranians do their traditional ice cream flavors better than the chocolates and vanillas.

("French Pastry" down the street from Tehran University)

Though we had planned to eat our way through Tehran, seeing as how eating out in Qom means eating Persian food (or the occassional falafel), that didn't materialize either. Craving Pakistani/Indian food we headed over to the restaurant at the Atlas Hotel, noted in LP for it's "Desi" food. The atmosphere was nice, the service very good, but the rather limited Indo-Pak menu left a lot to be desired. The stuffed paratha was excellent and the sauces for the Mughali chicken and butter chicken we ordered were good. However, the chicken itself was too "Iranian" in the sense that it didn't have all of the smell spiced out of it as with proper Desi food. Not bad, but didn't quite hit the spot for us.

(No, that's not real beer--Iran has a huge market in non-alcoholic beer. This Eres wasn't bad, but I did find the major brand Delster now does "Delster Black" which is pretty darn close to a nice Guinness Stout.)

On Sara's birthday we ventured out down the 20km stretch of Vali Asr avenue into Northern Tehran to try the chic and hightly rated Monsoon. The notion of yellow curries and other Asian treats kept us going despite having to trudge long distances up and down steep hills, on uneven pavement (where Sara twisted/popped her ankle, but somehow mysteriously recovered very quickly--must've been the curry calling). However, once we finally found the dang place they said they couldn't seat us as they were booked up!! The kind owner followed us out the door and apologized in nearly flawless American English, trying to interest us in their new California cuisine restaurant. But Sara was right, we don't care about California cuisine in America, why would we want it in Iran (mind you, she didn't say that to the lady!)? Sadly, Lonely Planet didn't mention that you'd need reservations at this place. Knowing that would have saved us a lot of grief.

By now it was late, dark and we were hungry and in despair. We made one last brave effort and trundled off to Seryna, another LP pick for asian food and sushi. We finally made it and weren't disappointed. The decor was great, wonderful service, and with prices to match. That means we paid in Iran what we'd pay for a similar meal in America, which means it was about 10x more expensive than a meal out is normally in Iran. Aside from Sara's spicy tuna which used a local tuna instead of what she's normally used to, the food was outstanding.

Other food highlights included two meals at Tomato, just a few blocks down from our hotel and also listed in LP. Despite the highly common and annoying Iranian restaurant trend of having a bunch of stuff on the menu that they don't actually ever have to serve in real life, the food was great. Onion rings very nicely done and excellent pizza, especially the margarita pizza. Of course, like all pizza in Iran, there's no tomato sauce, which means you must succumb and put ketchup on your pizza like the locals. We also tried a steak sandwhich which was quite good.

Aside from that, the fast food kababi a few blocks east of Hotel Naderi did excellent sandwiches and chips/fries (the open restaurant with juice bar at the opening of one of the passages) and the traditional restaurant on Si Tir street (walk away from Hotel Naderi towards Si Tir and hang a left, restaurant is on the right side of the street) did a chelo morg chicken just the way Sara likes it.

What? You thought you'd get something more than restaurant reviews?!?!

Blast in Samarra

2006-02-23T10:28:00.000+03:30

The Washington Post gave an excellent analysis of the recent terrorist attack at the shrine in Samarra, Iraq. More than that, it provides some insight into continued misunderstandings by Westerners about Muslims. Please do give it a read.

(http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/02/22/AR2006022202534.html?nav=rss_email/components)
What Was and Never Shall Be

In the Destruction of a Golden Dome, the Debris of Certainty

By Philip KennicottWashington Post Staff WriterThursday, February 23, 2006; Page C01

Again and again, it's distressing how little we know about how Iraq looked before destruction became an everyday occurrence. And so the first glimpse, for many, of the Askariya shrine was not of a magnificent shining dome, but twisted metal and broken walls.

As the first images of a massive destruction at one of Iraq's holiest shrines began coming in yesterday, it was hard not to think first of the building, rather than what it stands for. How old was it? What was the architecture like? Was this another loss, like the Bamiyan Buddhas, needlessly destroyed by the Taliban? Is its destruction equivalent, say, to the bombing of St. Peter's in Rome, or Chartres Cathedral? The mind grasps for an easy equivalence.

It was reassuring -- in the rather heartless way that people in a secular society look at old religious buildings as mere relics or potential tourist destinations -- to learn from the BBC, which quoted Robert Hillenbrand, a professor of Islamic Art at Edinburgh University, that while the shrine had immense religious and emotional importance to Iraq's Shiite population, it was not of enormous architectural importance. Measuring religious importance seems to land us in the realm of the irrational; measuring architectural or historical importance is different, but ultimately leads us down all the wrong paths.

But there was hardly time for any of those fumbling efforts to find an analogue between the Christianity many Americans know and the Islam so many of us learn about only when violence brings it into view. And no sooner had the building appeared on our television screens than it was obscured by images of rage in the streets. Tens of thousands of Shiites protested the bombing, and Sunni mosques were attacked in Basra and Baghdad. The pundits chattered about civil war. A great golden dome, that most of us had never seen, came down, replaced by images we've seen all too often, proof that yet again the sum total of anger in the world had gone up a few notches.

"It is not a question of the date or the age of the structure," said Professor Hamid Algar, of the University of California at Berkeley. Algar, who hadn't yet heard of the bombing when a reporter called, sounded sad and weary as he explained the historical background to the Askariya shrine. It is the burial place of the 10th and 11th imams, revered by Shiites as the direct descendants and spiritual heirs to the prophet Muhammad.

Besides the obvious religious and historic significance, Algar explained, its location in Samarra, north of the traditional Shiite stronghold of southern Iraq, makes it particularly fraught with religious tension. It was here, in the late 19th century, that the great scholar Mirza Hasan Shirazi set up as the spiritual leader of the Shiites, making inroads into the Sunni north. He led a newly vigorous Shiite community, and one that was increasingly threatening to Sunnis and the Ottoman overlords, who controlled the country. Samarra was, in some ways, a line in the sand in a long-standing religious struggle. And it is a line in the sand again.

Was. Is. Terrorism functions by conflating the categories. Old grievances are renewed, old tensions rekindled. The past, filled with the sting of injustice -- there's always enough to go around, no matter what small niche of the human race you occupy -- isn't so much remembered as it is constantly relived. There's no time for reflection, no time to come off the boil; humanity finds itself in a state of perpetual adolescence, short-fused and remarkably indifferent to whether it wants or expects to have a future.

Unlike so many images of terrorist destruction, the calculated demolition of the shrine in Samarra captures the "was" and "is" with rare power. When the twin towers came down, there was nothing left, just rubble and then, with astonishing alacrity, a sterile hole in the ground. In Samarra, they leveled the dome, destroying the visual focal point of the shrine, and one of the most distinctive features of the city of Samarra. There's a bit of twisted metal left, and the shell of the building that held it. In some ways, it's reminiscent of images of the old industrial hall that was left standing in Hiroshima after the atom bomb attack -- the remains of which are now a memorial to the victims (was, is, was, is).

The before and after shots show the shell of a building stripped of its most magnificent feature. The attackers went for the surface, the showy, the part of the architecture that best expresses the daring and determination on the part of those who raised it. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, professor of Islamic Studies at George Washington University, says that while Islamic architecture was originally very simple and plain, and while graves of ordinary people remain quite austere today, the mausoleums associated with imams, saints and early spiritual leaders developed a magnificence one saw plainly in the old, now destroyed dome. This wasn't just an architectural nicety, but something that expressed "the wisdom of the community," as manifested in the imams it honors.

And for a Shiite to see it destroyed?
"To see this before your eyes is like the world crumbling before you," he says. In part, that's because it was in Samarra that the last imam, the "Mahdi," disappeared, leaving the world to await both his return and the restitution of justice and order that will come with it. Some interpreters of Islam associate dire apocalyptic events with his reappearance. Others, including Algar, dismiss the idea, arguing that even making predictions about the when of the return is religiously frowned upon. But seeing the destruction of a shrine raised in the city of the imam's disappearance -- or occultation -- which contains the bodies of his forebears, brings with it profound eschatological resonance, according to Nasr.

"Nobody would think it is possible to destroy the most sacred objects," he says.
The side-by-side photographs, the was and is, shatter that certainty. Again, with grim admiration, one confronts the profound methodology of terror: To attack certainty is to attack the very basis on which societies are built. Certainty that the bank where you place your money is secure; that the title to your home is valid; that elections will happen on schedule; that power will be transferred without bloodshed. In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, New Yorkers were horrified by the fact that the simple, certain form of their skyline had been altered. That couldn't happen. Now imagine that same wound to the orderliness of the world magnified by an overlay of religious disbelief.

It isn't easy, which is why it was tempting to process the news, and the images, in other ways. On a right-wing Web site in this country, http://lucianne.com/ , people posting reactions under pseudonyms were often gleeful. "Isn't pretty much every real or imagined location of every Imam's spitoon a 'Holy' site?" wrote someone called "kwddave." That post suggested the vicious cycle of miscommunication we've entered. Anger is no longer read, here, as a sign of great depth of feeling, or sincerity, or as a symptom of fear; it is now proof of the insignificance of what Muslims are angry about. Simply because they are angry, their shrines are no better than spittoons. Rhetorically, "kwddave" repeats the act of terror, diminishing the meaning of a building that terrorists, literally, have reduced to a gaping cavity open to the rain.

Images of a building are never as interesting as the dynamic, moving pictures of people in the streets. And that image, of anger and protest, has been seen so often that it's become what we might as well just label The Blur -- the loud, threatening tape loop of enraged people that blends together all distinctions about who they are, where they are and why they're angry.

The first and most difficult fact of the bombing is its portent of civil war, and its most troubling message for Americans is its reminder of the degree to which we went to war, as a nation, ignorant of the basic sectarian rifts that we are now struggling to manage. But The Blur has a different message. Even when "they" are victims of internecine strife, the images seem to confirm that they are all the same in a particularly dangerous and hard to understand way. That has become our certainty, and one wonders what could possibly shatter it.

"Freedom Fries"

2006-02-22T19:29:00.000+03:30

Hello and Salaam All,

It's been awhile since we last posted. Irfan Ali/Robert is crazy busy with research and Sara has an ever-growing following for her English teaching. But after I popped in to our local bakery to get some sweets for Ms. Nouri's son's birthday, I noticed that they had gone through with the official pastry name change you all may have seen in the news and thought I'd give you a view from the ground.

Yes, much like our own bout with "Freedom Fries" the Danish cartoon debacle led to the renaming of the immensely popular Danish pastries in Iran (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060216/ap_on_re_mi_ea/iran_danish_pastries). "Danmarki"s are now "Gul-i Muhammad", loosely translated as "Roses of the Prophet Muhammad". Our bakery has a big "X" through "Danmarki", just so it's clear!

On the right, Sara's favorite "rollette"; on the left, two types of Gul-i Muhammad.

As for the cartoon issue, one of the best analyses I've seen comes from my internet colleague and fellow white-man-married-to-a-Pakistani-woman, Svend White. You can read his essay on his blog here--make sure you look for his further reflections and reader comments too:
http://akramsrazor.typepad.com/islam_america/2006/02/jp.html

Can't forget our fellow Axis of Evil blogger Brian--check out some of his thoughts on the cartoons and embassy burning in Syria here:

http://www.readingeagle.com/blog/syria/

More on Muharram in Qom

2006-02-04T08:44:00.000+03:30

Salaam/Hello Everyone

Last night we were invited to a majlis (the daily event of mourning for Hussein and his companions at Karbala held each day in the first ten days of the month of Muharram) at Grand Ayatollah Ardebili's house here in Qom.

While the t.v. shows the major gatherings with famous speakers, most people attend much smaller gatherings to listen to the stories of Karbala and to see how those lessons tie in to problems today or to general points about Islam. Thus, the gathering at Ayatollah Ardebili's house (where he also gives lessons to his students) was more subdued and thoughtful. About halfway through, Ayatollah Sharastani and his entourage came in and filled out the numbers a bit (Ayatollah Sharastani is Grand Ayatollah Sistani's representative in Qom, and is his son in law; Sharastani's daughter is married to Grand Ayatollah Ardebili's son, thus relating the two figures through marriage).

Grand Ayatollah Ardebili, besides being one of the few Marja Taqlids ("point of emulation", or scholar that each Shi'a must refer religious questions to--each believer picks one scholar to follow), is also known for his role in reworking the judiciary to be in line with Islamic law after the Iranian Revolution, and for founding the open-minded Mofid University, where traditional religious scholars and scholarship engage with Western schoarlship, particularly in the humanities (and hence the reason we were invited, though anybody can attend any majjlis).

He also turned the desert of Qom into a veritable forest, at least at Mofid University and its satellite properties. I think he wanted it all to look a little bit more like the lush forests of his hometown Ardebil, near the Caspian sea in NW Iran.

I didn't want to interrupt the majlis, so I waited until it was over to snap a picture of the room and its Muharram decorations. This is also where the Ayatollah holds classes for his students:

For more on Grand Ayatollah Ardebili:http://www.al-shia.com/html/eng/ser/ulama/ola-arde_h.htm

Muharram Day 1

2006-01-31T15:15:00.000+03:30

Hello and Salaam Everyone,

The Islamic month of Muharram has begun today and some of our readers have mentioned that they would like to know what Muharram is like in Iran.

Why is Muharram important? Because back in 680 CE the Prophet Muhammad's beloved grandson Hussein, and a small band of Hussein's family and close associates were massacred in the desert of Karbala (in Iraq) by the troops of Yazid, the claimant to leadership of the Muslim community. Thus Shia Muslims mourn this event every year (as do/did many Sunni Muslims), starting with the first of Muharram and culminating on the 10th, when Hussein was killed (though there are certain commerations and events related to these events that occur after the 10 days are over).

Here are some good links about Muharram in general:

A variety of articles on the events of Karbla, including some very interesting acticles by Western academics, like Annemarie Schimmel (http://al-islam.org/index.php?sid=102739283&t=sub_pages&cat=252)

Another common practice during this time is to listen to religious lectures which also include lessons about the day's events in the history of Karbala. My favorite site for these is found below, where the speakers tend to be intellectuals and academics. This year's speaker, Dr. Ali Shomali is from Qom and looks very interesting (http://www.islamicherald.com/Community/Calendar/Speaker_Profile.asp?SpeakerID=29)

Personally, I am not very fond of the ritualized mourning. I think it is vital to recount the events of Karbala and to mourn, but the standardized, group mourning isn't necessarily my thing. Some of my thinking about this comes from the works of the late Dr. Ali Shariati (incidently, the teacher of my teacher):

Red Shi`ism, Black Shi`ism (http://www.shariati.com/redblack.html)
After Shahadat (http://al-islam.org/beliefs/philosophy/shahadat.html)

As for specifics about Muharram in Iran, so far not much seems to have changed. Unlike, say, Pakistan, where the drama of identity politics plays out on a grand scale between Shi`is and Sunnis in things like dress--with Shi`is buying and wearing new, all black outfits for Muharram--Shi`is in Iran do wear black, or bits of black, but people here don't buy new or special clothes, just whatever they have that's black. And it's not head-to-toe black, but more a theme of black to indicate mourning. Who's not wearing black? Mullahs, who are wearing whatever robes they normally do; manual laborers; various students at the university; and ladies under their (everyday black) chadors, seem to be wearing whatever colored clothes they normally wear.

Other signs that it's Muharram include some black banners hung along the streets or outside of some shops. Below is a shot of Mofid Square looking towards the direction of our apartment. You'll see that the large flags that normally fly the color green (the color of the Prophet and his family) are black , and there are some other black flags spaced out down the road.

Below is an interesting bit of religious-political art. You'll note the traditional painting of the women of Hussein's camp mourning over the return of his horse (Zuljinah) from the battlefield, without Imam Hussein. Glommed on to the picture is Ayatollah Khomeini and the current leader, Ayatollah Khamenei. It's even more intriguing if you've read UT Austin professor's Kamran Scot Aghaie's "The Martyrs of Karbala: Shi`i Symbols and Rituals in Modern Iran" (http://www.washington.edu/uwpress/search/books/AGHMAC.html)

More details to come over the days as we find things of interest!

Religion and Politics, Never Gets Old

2006-01-30T18:06:00.000+03:30

The two "taboo" topics are two of my favorites, so here we go with another round. Much more "politics" than "religion" this time. Once again, "In The Axis" gets is right. A worthwhile and brief read for all.

And BTW, the hot spot when I was in Cairo was the Pizza Hut across the street from the AUC. And yes, it was about as nice as Brian's description of the McDonalds--more of a sit down atmosphere than fast food. Of course, nothing in Egypt is better than a big bowl of koshari with hot sauce, lemon sauce, and water from the communal pitcher on the table (bring your own Immodium).

From: http://www.readingeagle.com/blog/syria/

Political Tremor

The McDonald's in Cairo's upscale Mohandiseen area (upscale for Cairo anyway) attracted the rich, the Westernized, the youth. This fast-food outlet was complete with a uniformed doorman who would rush to light cigarettes dangling from customers' lips. It was the place to be seen.

I visited there during my stay in Egypt a few years ago with my friend and roommate Muhammed Heiko Moss, a tall and thoroughly aryan-looking fellow, who had a Tunisian step-father and a German mother who loved all things Japanese. He had a charisma that enabled him to strike up a chat with anyone, and I met such interesting people when he was around. One afternoon we came across eight Palestinian guys who were enjoying coffee while being seen at McDonald's. They were students at a Cairo technical school, and in the course of the conversation we spoke about life back in the Occupied Territories. After listening to their litany of complaints, I asked if any of them had lost any family members in the conflict.

They laughed and shrugged their shoulders. Every one of them had at least one family member killed in gunfights, bombings, prison 'accidents' and other forms of Israeli-Palestinian violence. During my time in the Middle East, I have met countless Palestinians in nearly every country I have visited and heard story after story of unmitigated violence and humiliation. Syria hosts over 2 million Palestinian refugees, victims of ethnic cleansing.

Ethnic cleansing -- there is no other way to put it than that.

(read the rest here: http://www.readingeagle.com/blog/syria/archives/2006/01/political_tremo.html#comments)

Interview

2006-01-26T13:07:00.000+03:30

So we've been here about 2.5 months and there seem to be no signs of interest in AliBob's presence dying down.

A few days back, Dr. Elahi came over while I was teaching my class and apparently, someone from the BBC had been doing something at Mofid and wanted to interview AliBob.

The reporter is an Iran News Analyst (not just a regular journalist) for BBC World Service and is doing a story on Islam and Modernity, particularly in Qom. So he came over, along with Mr. Fazl and Dashti (AliBob's tutor... his name is AliG but we call him Dashti) and I, as usual made lame tea and we served them fruit.

Then Mr. Saba, the reporter, went with AliBob into another room and interviewed him privately with a big old microphone. It's for a radio program. AliBob said the interview seemed very professional and he asked interesting questions.

Meanwhile, I hung out in the living room with Mr. Fazl and Dashti and they asked me things like the difference between "work" and "job", "state" and "government", "statesman" and "government man". I answered as best I could...based on how I feel the words tend to be used. I'm wondering if, in the past 2 months, I have managed to recreate English incorrectly for the people here... explaining things that I really should leave up to the experts and textbooks.

Anyway, Mr. Saba had an awesome voice, deep and compelling... perfect for radio. I got a picture of them all.. AliBob and his boys.. from left to right it's Mr. Saba, AliBob, Mr. Fazl, Dashti:

A Birthday Celebration

2006-01-24T16:02:00.000+03:30

So today is my baby sister's 19th birthday. Happy Birthday Ayesha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We miss her tons and she's like our adoptive child... really.. she is... we rented a hotel room in Washington D.C. 2 New Years ago for a few nights and she was right there with us... on our romantic getaway for 3. She makes everything more fun and she and AliBob always gang up on me and make fun of me.. but that's okay, because then AliBob and I gang up on her.. and of course, she and I gang up on him. It's a perfect symbiosis.

We were there for all her big days... being born (well I was, not AliBob), moving her into college, the boring court thing for her driver's license, her high school graduation, her college orientation for "parents".. although we cheated and left the lectures to go eat. I remember doing her homework when she was little, mostly because I was such a nerd that I enjoyed it, going to her basketball games, watching her first steps, changing diapers, having her be an obnoxious copy cat when I was trying to assert my independence as a 13 year old and I had this "tail" attached to me everywhere I went that also tattle taled to our mom about everything I said or did.

But.. we made it through that unsavory time when she was a brat and no one knew it but me (because she played the goody goody innocent child around everyone else) and now, I'm proud to say that she's my partner in the following crimes: listening to horrible music that we'd never admit we love but we love it and know all the words and even have some choreographed dances to said music; watching horrible trashy tv shows while we both add our quite colorful commentary and turn a trashy show into a work of comic genius; watching and making fun of Indian movies.. we're willing to put the hours in to actually sit through a whole film just so we can hate it; have ugly cheesy dances that are known to make people gag and turn away in horror and disgust; staying in our ratty pajamas all day long for days on end and not understanding why people think we should change into something else; going to the mall (we *detest* going to the mall) and actually managing to have fun while we go through our list of mall chores; eating chocolate tall cakes from Ruby Tuesday (except I get fat and she gets skinnier); and other unmentionable crimes; having her be more like the big sister and me be more like the little sister; spending many a boring lonely New Year not being allowed to do anything fun but knowing that at least we'd be bitter and resentful together (as our brother went out to such cool things like a U2 concert).

Anyway. Somehow she wormed her way into our heart.. like a hagfish burrows into fish corpses and she's there for good.

To celebrate her birthday, AliBob and I decided to go run errands. Yes, the excitement is truly overwhelming.

We took pictures of a bunch of random stuff, which I will try and post on here.
As we walked down towards the bazaars at the city center, we got a pic of the shrine:

So anyway, I did meet someone today who does not like Sunnis, and he said so. He was actually a kind and talkative young man, a helpful shopkeeper as well, and he asked if AliBob was a Shia so we both nodded yes and I suppose maybe he assumed we both were Shia. So then he went on about how Qom has no Sunnis and that's good and that if someone is Shia he likes them, but if someone is Sunni he doesn't like them. I smiled politely and nodded and went along because I just hoped he wouldn't find out I was Sunni because that would just be awkward for us all.

I didn't much mind. He hears of Shias being killed, so of course he might harbor some dislike of Sunnis. It was more uncomfortable than anything... but AliBob apologized to me for it later on and he said.. "now you know how it feels when I sit at dinner parties and have random men talk negatively about Shias (because most people back home don't really know AliBob is a Shia Muslim) and I just smile and nod politely." True.

The shopkeeper also said America is horrible and "we Iranians don't like America" (although the more I talk to people, the more I see a variety of opinions, from negative to positive to not knowing either way) and he said that he hopes one day America is destroyed. To this, I told him that America is a good country, and we love America and our family is there and Americans are very good people and just the government is bad. He agreed that yes, the American people are good. He still hopes that America's government is destroyed.

Despite my dislike of American foreign policy and even some domestic policy, I still can't hope for the destruction of its government because, well, good does come out of it and I love my constitution with its lovely bill of rights. I suppose that after moving around all over the world, I've finally found a place that I can really call home.

So as we went on in the bazaar, we went to the back end and it opened into a little alley that reminisces much more of an old bazaar street in a middle eastern country. There were lots of Iraqis here... there's one walking away!

I saw a disturbing number of sheep heads and other organs displayed nicely and it's times like these that the case for vegetarianism makes itself for me... and, at the risk of sounding like a cheerleader, sheep are so cute! The lamb meat here is also very fatty and chewy so that, of course, makes me less inclined to eat it, not being a big fan of fat and gristle and slimy stuff. Anyway, it always makes me sad to actually see what I eat... I, like most people, prefer not to know where my food came from, lest I have an inevitable attack of conscience.

We got much needed spices and red lentils (masoor daal) which are my lifeline, along with some other foodstuffs I've been needing since we got here and didn't have (garlic powder, baking soda, chapatti flour). We got a picture of where we usually get our IndoPak goods, along with the Afghan shopkeeper and his son. They are good people.

We had a falafel sandwich and curried potato sambusas (dripping in oil and absolutely delicious) at a stall and learned that the shopkeepers are Iraqi cousins who have been living in Iran for almost 20 years. They are fluent in both Arabic and Persian. When asked where we were from, we told them America and one of them said something along the lines of "the ones who are taking our country". It was joking but we still made sure they knew that one is all our government and not us and we apologized. We had a good conversation and they seemed to be honest people so that was good.

There are a lot of Iraqis in Iran. Shias were persecuted by Saddam so many of them fled to Iran where they're welcomed because, while Iraqis and Arabs are still mistrusted from the Iran-Iraq war, these are linked by their Shiism and their siding against Saddam and with Iran.

AliBob and I realized how horrible our Arabic has become, and, with our Persian learning, our Arabic is that much worse because we seem to be unable to distinguish between the two when we talk so we have a perfect mix of Persiabic. On the bright side, the shopkeeper said that for being here 2 months, our Persian was great, so that's nice.

Some entertaining things along the way:

"Ayatollahs" going into a mosque, can it get any more stereotypical than this? Oh yes, if maybe they were burning an American flag, chanting and holding big containers that said "Enriched Uranium for Weapons Making". They're so cute, these little mullahs.

Roadside weighing-- for those times when you are walking along and suddenly realize you have a compelling need to know your weight then and there.. jump on a scale for a small fee and find out so you can have peace of mind for the rest of your day. Bring your friends and make it an impromptu weighing party.

This must be their version of graffiti. Or entertainment. There were several of these murals along this wall, all pseudo-Disney themed (Tom and Jerry, Pluto, Goofy, Mickey and Minnie). Interesting and colorful

I saved the best for last. This is funny, if nothing else. So there are three flags painted on this road, it's a very heavily travelled square as it's at the city center. They are the British, American and Israeli flags and I only noticed them today, when AliBob pointed them out to me. I suppose that's the Iranian version of scoffing in the West's general direction... driving aggressively over the flags, and anyone else who gets in your way, for that matter.

Calling Cards

2006-01-21T09:07:00.000+03:30

Hi Everyone,

Just a quick public service announcement. Many of our friends and family, especially those not used to calling overseas, have been asking about calling cards to Iran.

There are lots of options out there, and probably any international calling card (usually available at markets/stores with immigrant clientele) will work. But I did see this link at the top of an online Persian dictionary I sometimes use:

https://www.wqn.com/supertel/?affiliate=109588&phonecard=1

I looked at the card info and it seems quite good. In general, don't just look for the cheapest per minute rate, but make sure there are no extra fees (connection fees, maintenance fees) and look for rounding to the minute or less, rather than for rounding that will eat up your minutes.

XO,
AliBob

Middle East Bloggers, Unite!

2006-01-20T10:59:00.000+03:30

Hi All,

We've posted about my friend Brian's blog before ("In the Axis"--about his time in Syria) and again I'm going to crosspost something he wrote there. His analysis of Iran is spot on and I'd been meaning to write something similar for awhile now, but he beat me to it.

Since we've got Iran and Syria covered, we just need to find an American blogging in Iraq and we'll have fully reconstituted the "Axis of Evil" on the 'net. If we can get someone in Lebanon too, then we will have created the virtual "Shia Crescent" that some "leaders" in the region are worried about.

~Robert
--------------------------
http://www.readingeagle.com/blog/syria/

January 15, 2006

Middle East Bloggers, Unite!

I first started posting to this blog with the idea that I could share day to day experiences in Syria with people back home. The people of Berks County and the people of the broader United States get a healthy dose of the Middle East on the TV and in the newspaper, for sure. But the countries we read about in the news are not made of terrorists, bombings, and other unsavory news events. They are made of ordinary people, people who share most of our needs, expectations, joys, and fears. It sells newspapers, boosts television ratings, and makes self-serving politicians happy for us to believe otherwise, but such commercial and political interests do not change basic human realities.

One country that has been demonized in our media to the point of caricature is Iran. The scowling and heavy-browed countenance of Ruhollah Khomeini has been conflated with the entire Iranian nation, and Iran now embodies the very essence of evil in our peculiar American comic-book style pandaemonium. Yet Iran, as I have written, is one of the most sophisticated countries in the Middle East, and the antidote to the virulent forms of Islamism we see today may in fact lie in the very Iranian clerical classes that we now demonize.

Iran is a cultural, political, and scientific powerhouse in the region, and it would behoove us to kiss and make up once and for all. Israel, to a great extent, is yesterday, but Iran is tomorrow, and it is time American policy makers adjust our 'special relationship' accordingly. We have a choice between a resource-poor pseudo-democracy of five million who spend over two billion unaccounted dollars of our tax money annually to make much of the world hate us, and a rising oil-wealthy juggernaut of 70 million who we have made mortal enemies mainly because they dared crawl from underneath our boot.

The Iranians make darned good kebabs as well, I should mention.

Enough about what I think. The purpose of this entry is to direct your attention to the site of my friends and fellow American Mideast bloggers Robert and Sara, who are staying in the very heart of the Axis of Evil, in the holy city of Qom, Iran. Robert is doing doctoral research there, Sara is exploring like mad, and they are keeping an excellent and descriptive blog of their experiences in this fascinating country.

http://sweetsohan.blogspot.com

Check it out!

Celebrate Good Times... come on.

2006-01-19T22:18:00.000+03:30

Eid-e-Ghadir Mubarak to everyone! The tradition is to buy sweets the night before (which is actually a common tradition for most holidays, to go buy sweets on the eve of the holiday), and on the day of, we’re supposed to go visit Sayyeds, people who are descendants of the Prophet and they give you money. It's also a day to do good works and all that.

These are the sweets AliBob brought home yesterday afternoon… I had the last one for breakfast today. By the time I took this picture, 10 minutes after he brought them home, I had already eaten a roll. I think I have found my hidden talent… the ability to find junk food anywhere in the world and fatten myself up on it.

I went to teach my class as usual last night, and while I was gone, AliBob said there were fireworks and he tried to get a few pictures of those. I thought I''d heard weird booms all day and I just assumed it was construction or something. Fireworks make more sense. I think there may have been some fireworks for last week's Eid too, now that I think about it. Anyway, I’m putting up the most decent one. We liked the shape of it, and it looks much like Islamic calligraphy, with long parallel staffs shooting out of a cloud of loops and curls that could be script. The two parallel squigglies at the top look like they could be almost spelling out "Muhammad" in Arabic. They're not, but they look like it anyway.

After class, the girls and I decided that we would go visit my student Sedigheh’s place this afternoon, since her mother is a Sayyed, which makes her a Sayyed. Interestingly, Sedigheh said she’s only a half Sayyed, since it is her mother and not her father who is the Sayyed. So while she is a Sayyed, her children will not be, unless their father is a Sayyed.

I found it very odd since, especially in this case, lineage and blood should be passed on through the mother as much as the father and also the Shia tradition holds the Prophet’s daughter Fatimah to be in an extremely revered position in Islam. I told AliBob this and he said that although Islam traces lineage through the father, the case of the descendants of Muhammad is very interesting as they are traced through the daughter, since he had no sons that survived infancy.

My student, Sedigheh, stayed up late last night wrapping up coins in little decorative paper and folding currency into accordions and wrapping those up with ribbon. It’s not a lot of money, just a token gesture. They give those to all their visitors and, from what her father told AliBob as he visited with the men, some people keep the money for a whole year because it gives you “barakat” or blessings.

So we went to visit today with Fatemeh. They had sweets and snacks and tea waiting, as they had been having visitors since 11am. We had arranged to go at 3pm. Sedigheh also told me her younger brother had been practicing the few words of English he knows all morning so he could say them to AliBob. Cute. They also had the prettily wrapped money on a tray and they offered it to us, along with all the other snacks.

Fatemeh said you try not to spend this money, but if you do, it’s usually on something for a good cause. That this token money brings you blessings seems to be a unanimous conclusion, since it comes from the descendants of the Prophet.

I told Mrs. H and Sedigheh that they must feel so special, being Sayyeds, but Mrs. H, humble and gracious as all the others have been so far, said that it means nothing if her own actions aren’t good. She may have had good forefathers, but she doesn’t benefit from it... it's up to her to do good herself and to be a better person. Her father has their family tree, which traces them all the way back to Imam Moosa Kazim, the 7th Imam. That's over a thousand years of geneology. Impressive.

I know I’ve said it before, but it's amazing how these people have such good character and humility and they really don’t rest on their laurels at all, be they academic, social, ancestral, or spiritual. Their husbands tend to be clerics, having achieved at least the lowest rank, Hojjat-ul-Islam, before going off to pursue their secular education. They all accept their humble lifestyles with joy and gratitude for the blessings they have in their lives. I've seen it reflected in all the ladies here, in the way they speak and carry themselves. I hope something of it all rubs off on me... some patience and contentment and humility and simplicity.

Anyway, here’s the picture of the money AliBob and I got, a coin and a bill. It was a special day today and I was glad to be able to be a part of it.

Man Kuntu Mawlahu fa `Aliyyun Mawlahu

2006-01-18T18:20:00.000+03:30

"For whomever I am his leader, Ali is his leader" ~The Prophet Muhammad.

Today is `Eid al Ghadeer, the day the above Hadith (Prophetic narration) was revealed after Muhammad's last pilgrimage during his life. This narration is recorded widely in both Shi`i and Sunni books, but it's understanding varies tremendously, as do its implications for both groups.

Needless to say, it is a holiday here in Iran, with banners and signs up all around town.

I'm not much for proselytizing. Perhaps that's due to the incessant stream of Jehovah's Witnesses that kept ringing the doorbell of my childhood home or the hilarious/frightening Jack Chick tracts people used to hand out. But in the interest of discussion and exploration, I am posting a few links, for the intersted and intellectually curious, about this important topic.

The first gives a detailed overview of the event from the Shi`i perspective. I wish more people who criticize Shi`is would at least get to this part, where they learn about their reasons, beliefs, and arguments for this stance (or any other points of difference) before they try to write everything off as "innovation", "error", and other even less savory things. One should at least know accurately the perspective of the other before offering a critique...

http://al-islam.org/ghadir/

Even more interesting, from my view anyway, is the next link. Written by the great Shi`i scholar Ayatullah Morteza al Mutaharri (who our street is named after, by the way), it is an exploration as to how the event of Ghadeer can actually aid in Sunni-Shi`i unity and understanding. Anything that leads to that end ought to be required reading for the believers...

http://al-islam.org/mot/default.asp?url=ghadir-relevance.htm

Finally, anybody that wants to gain a deeper understanding of Islamic history and the claims and support for the view that Muhammad designated Ali as his successor must read Wilfred Madelung's book below. Though his conclusion as to why Ali was unsuccessful in making his claim (and in retaining his Caliphate) will not satisfy any believer, the historical evidence he provides about the succession to Muhammad (and culled mostly from Sunni sourcess) needs to be considered by all Muslims. Not to say it will necessarily convince a Sunni of the Shi`i case, but it points out a number of historical "pious fictions" that must be addressed and accounted for somehow.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0521646960/sr=1-1/qid=1137596668/ref=pd_bbs_1/103-5386586-5099006?%5Fencoding=UTF8

~Irfan Ali

Once you go black...

2006-01-18T14:22:00.000+03:30

So there is so much to talk about... not one particular event, but so many little things that would make long rants. I'm already a "wordy b----", as my friend so aptly put it, and so what to do?

Let me make this a blog post of random things. First of all, as you all have noticed, it is equally a blog about Iran as it is about my domestic ineptitude, particularly in the kitchen. In that spirit, let me sort of quote something funny I saw on a britcom a few days ago: "Not being able to cook has its compensations. You can't become a bored housewife until you actually become a housewife." How true. So there goes my desperate housewife scenario.

Also, last month sometime, AliBob didn't tell you, but I will, he was interviewed by Mofid University's student run newsletter...or literary magazine...or something. This is significant not only because people are that interested and he's that special, but also because this particular publication won an award for being the best student run publication in Iran. I'm sure I should have capitalized something in that sentence, but I couldn't figure out what. Anyway, that's pretty cool.

They asked him questions like... "in one word, what is Islam? what is Iran? what is life?" and other meaning of life type questions. They also, as usual, asked him about his conversion to Islam. It's funny how people expect him to have profound answers to difficult questions right off the top of his head because he's the white foreigner. I think he did alright because this white foreigner *is* in fact smart and thoughtful.

A few weeks after that, we were interviewed by Mofid's public affairs magazine. They came to our place, 2 (female) student journalists and 1 (male) student photographer, along with Robertali's tutor, friend and translator, Ali G. We had tea and snacks (I'm pretty sure, no I know for a fact, that I made the Iranian tea incorrectly...because I learned later that night how to make it from the 11 year old Hanieh.)

They asked questions about his conversion, our opinions on Iran, America, Islam, society, etc. The girls were excited to hear about AliBob's and my "love story" as it were and then they said I'm very happy. It was kind of random, but I guess because I smile/laugh a lot when I'm nervous... and they took it to mean I'm just inordinately happy all the time.

The girls actually also asked me, interestingly enough, why I was wearing black. I wasn't sure what to answer. I had read somewhere that muted colors are better here, and that red is especially inappropriate, and we've all seen the Western media's portrayal of black chador-clad Iranian women. If I asked you what color comes to mind when you think of Iran, I'm sure black would be up there in your list of choices.
I happen to love black and find it practical for everything, especially since I didn't bring a lot of clothing and figured I should bring durable stuff that doesn't show signs of wear and dirt easily.

Turns out, other ladies would ask me this too as time went by. They all seemed to notice that I wear quite a bit of black. (I only have 2 pairs of pants here, both black, and black warmup pants and 1 black skirt. That's it.) I was genuinely surprised. They all seem to dislike black, think it's a sad deathly color that shouldn't be worn except for in chador. I pointed out to the ladies, as I had to the girls, that the chador is black. They all had similar responses. Chador is just something you throw on on top when you go out, but that doesn't matter, your clothes should have happy light colors.

So yeah, the ladies here really don't dig black as much as I would have thought. Of course they wear it, especially since black pants and coats are considered professional here too, but they don't really have that affinity for black that I do. I also have no sense of style, so black is foolproof.

Oh, also, I finally took pictures of our little grocery store, called Supermarket Valiasr. Here are the man who works there (Muhammad, left) and the man who owns it (also Muhammad, right). The other guy, Mortaza, who also runs it, wasn't there then. They love AliBob and in fact Mortaza introduced AliBob to his mother and wife, and we got a dinner invite from him too. The pic is blurred because we were in a rush and I have another one that's in focus, but not with both the men.

Amazing Women but Forlorn Sheep

2006-01-16T23:30:00.000+03:30

So CNN recently mistranslated an Iranian speech that said that Iran should have the right to pursue "nuclear technology" or something similar as "nuclear weapons". Now, CNN reporters and journalists have been banned out of Iran. CNN apologized and all, but come on, that's an egregious error. When the whole crux of the debate and point of contention is just that, weapons vs. peaceful technology, and you translate it as weapons, that's just irresponsible.

I like BBC better anyway. More balanced, and you actually see real world news, the stuff that American media outlets, no matter how liberal or conservative, will never show you. It's just one of a myriad of examples of that air of arrogance that pervades America's self-inflated position in the world. Not that it's not important; it is very much so, but sorry if the rest of the world isn't falling at its feet in awe and reverence... you have to play nice.

Not sure how I feel about banning in general though. Not a big fan of censorship. It *is* funny that troublemaking Iran banned big ole' CNN though. I must say, I also can't stand how websites are banned here. Makes me livid. Especially when I'm surfing and hunting for random pieces of information and then that stupid page comes up and says something in Persian (I refuse to figure out what it says, I just recognize it as the stupid "prohibited page".)

Things that have been prohibited include: Dr. Weil's website, mothernature.org, several different sites with recipes for cooking TVP (textured vegetable protein), the CNN news story about the teenaged boy shot in Florida (because of the word "teen"), the Naked Chef website (even though it's cookery..), any site or pages (including the Google search results page) with the word "tattoo", and though not for us, but for someone else, University of Virginia's website was banned because "virgin" is in it. Lame.

We were invited to dinner tonight at Ali G's place, AliBob's tutor and friend. I met his wife at Mr. Fazl's place a few weeks back. She was all covered up and I barely got a look at her face last time. Tonight AliBob went to the formal living room which was cleverly separated from the ladies' section, where I was. We could still hear them talking clearly but we just couldn't see each other.

In addition to Mrs. G, also present were her mother, sister Yasaman (17 years old), and cousin Maryam (15 years old) there. Mrs. G, who is only 27 and very pretty, already has 2 kids, a master's degree in Fiqh (Religious Jurisprudence), and a job. Mrs. G started cooking at the age of 10. Her mother is only 50 and was married at 14, and had 8 kids. 4 of them died. I was horrified but they laughed at my horror and said it's normal for all the kids not to make it.

Mrs. G's sister won a competition in her hometown of Mashhad and got a chance to come to Qom to compete in the Olympiad. What's interesting is that though she was competing in English, that's actually not her area of study... she just happens to be good at it. She was very curious to know about America and our activities there. She herself is into sports, takes Tae Kwon Do, plays badminton, handball and a bunch of other stuff I forget. She also has a webcam and is really into chatting and techie stuff. I don't know why I'm surprised, I hardly think of Iranian women as oppressed and disadvantaged, but still... even I am always refreshingly surprised when I see these women with a chador tightly wound around them let loose and show their talents and accomplishments. Maybe I too, at some deeper level, equate covering up with some kind of lack of opportunity. I don't know.

Mrs. G's cousin, who is 15, is already married legally and doesn't look 15 at all. She's not living with her husband. What they do in Iran is that, to prevent illicit relations between men and women, they perform the marriage contract, which allows the girl and guy to go out and get to know each other without worrying about being inappropriate. If they like each other and are game, they then have a wedding party/reception to make it official and seal the deal. If not, they break it off so they can pursue other options. It's interesting and really works in this culture... and also, a broken 'contract' isn't looked down up on the way a divorce would be after the two have been living together as man and wife. This way, guys and girls still spend some time alone together and the girl's virtue and honor are preserved.

Maryam's engagement will last another 2 years before she marries. They all feel 15 is too young for marriage, but the bride and groom still need to know each other well before they marry... so 17 it is.

The food was amazing, as usual. There was talk of my having babies.. and I gave my usual answer.. "maybe in 10 years". Mrs. G's mother said that I should have a daughter so they can marry Mrs. G's 4.5 year old son to her. I was flattered that they'd want to marry their boy to our unborn halfbreed girl.

Their kids are gorgeous, a son, Mohammad who's 4.5 years old, and a daughter, Fatemeh, who's 2.5. Mohammad is a brilliant little boy who has amazingly clear diction and speaks *very* grammatically correct Persian. He also has read enough books (or memorized them from his parents reading to him) and enough poetry, that he now goes through his own picture books and creates poetry about the pictures as he goes along. I, not understanding much, could still hear him making the rhymes and vocab work. It was quite amazing. He loves poetry. Already.

Anyway, it was a *really* cold night and remember how I said there were no animals tied up for Eid? Well apparently, there was one sheep just randomly tied up in front of a restaurant. It was sad not only because he looked dirty, but it was also freezing and he stood there, still as death, with his head hanging kind of low. Good thing he had tons of wool on him, I guess. I tried to get a picture, but it was so dark and I didn't want to get in trouble. He saw the flash and looked towards us. Here's that pic where the sign nextdoor, ironically, says "Chelo Kabab", which is a kabab made from lamb.

Sunnis and Shias, Iranian nukes and American bullies... and CENSORSHIP

2006-01-15T21:02:00.000+03:30

I had a very interesting class tonight. It was our first meeting since Eid, so we wished each other a Happy Eid and then the talked about how another big Eid is coming up... Eid ul Ghadir. It's going to be this Thursday. This is a very important Eid for Shia Muslims. AliBob will explain it in further detail.

Anyway, I didn't know it was coming up, even though I knew of it. So Mrs. Mirmohammadi said that AliBob probably knows and I said yes, but I'll tell him just in case he doesn't realize it's this Thursday. So the other ladies said, if he's Shia, he'll know, and then, noticing I didn't know about Eid al Ghadir they asked me if I was Shia or Sunni and I told them that I was Sunni.

They nodded understanding and proceeded to ask me about Sunni holidays. They asked, aside from the two Eids (Fitr and Adha) which ones do we have in Sunni tradition that are important. I had no idea. I didn't really grow up with any other Eids. Later on, AliBob told me that most Sunni countries celebrate the birthday of the Prophet. I think I may have when I was younger, but my family hasn't in years.

So we launched into a discussion of Shia and Sunni unity and they said that it's so weird to hear about Sunnis and Shias killing each other in Pakistan or Shias being picked on in other countries, since here in Iran, they're like brothers. They pray together, they live together, they stick up for each other. In fact, the Iranian government has been known to jail people who spread anti-Sunni propaganda, and it has banned their writings as well. I'm not saying there aren't Shias here who might not like Sunnis (can't always blame them either), but especially since the Islamic Revolution in 1979, Shias and Sunnis here have coexisted in peace and harmony.

The ladies talked about how despite being Shia or Sunni, they have a common bond of being Muslims and if they were united, the Muslim world would be a lot more successful... and it also wouldn't be stuck under America and the West's thumb. How true... on both counts.

Also, parts of Iran have Sunnis in the majority and it hasn't caused any problems.

Anyway, it was fun, talking about it without insults or accusations or any of the rest of it. Let's hope Sunnis and Shias everywhere can learn a thing or two from Iran.

This leads me to my next point. The whole Nuclear Issue. No one is really a big fan of nuclear weapons... and I'm not going to argue that we should all be allowed to run around with h-bombs. What's annoying is that countries like the US and those in Western Europe are trying to tell everyone else how to conduct their business. It's unfair that all these countries pursue nuclear technology, whatever the reasons may be, and that the US is the only one that has actually used a nuclear weapon--twice-- and yet it still has the audacity to tell Iran that it's wrong.

The American government has done itself such a big disservice by alienating Iran. Iran has so much to offer, firstly things like vast reserves of oil, but also a more moderate and progressive Muslim voice... current leadership aside. The more the US pisses Iran off, the more standoffish the Iranian government will be. When was the last time the US allowed itself to be bullied by anyone? We are taught that bullies are bad, so why is it okay for the US government to bully its way through international relations?

That said, I'm not a fan of the official satus quo here*, and it seems that most people here aren't either. The silly "the holocaust never happened" bit really didn't help matters, to say the least. Another brilliant one was the banning of western music. People still play it, in fact, no one even takes this stuff seriously. I still see TV commercials with American songs, just without the words (most recently it was the instrumental muzak version of "Killing Me Softly").

But a country is a sovereign entity, and as such, has a right to do almost (short of the obvious no-no's like mass murder and any sort of injustice otherwise) whatever the hell it wants to do for the good of its own country. America does whatever it wants, and it allows its buddy countries to do what they want. Literally, America really does what it wants regardless of approval or disapproval from the international community, so again, why does America have the right to control what another country does? At least be the role model, will you??

Yes yes.. the world needs a babysitter and America is the self-appointed policing force, but is it any wonder that people all over don't trust America to be an objective policing force? It's not objective. Its hypocritical double standards and selective policy enforcing just undermine its credibility as anything other than evil, imperialistc and backstabbing.

Let's encourage democracy and rights for all while we whittle away at the rights of our own people. Let's sanction some bad governments and be best friends with other equally bad governments. Let's punish some people for violating UN resolutions while we look the other way when others violate the same resolutions. Let's spy on our own people without their knowledge or consent while babbling on about our right to privacy.

Anyway, what's most annoying is that if the American government paid attention, it would realize it's not all that hard to befriend Middle Eastern countries, especially Iran. In fact, what's interesting is that all Shia scholars, as far as we know, are unanimous in their ruling that nuclear weapons are not Islamically permissible because they inherently violate the ethics of warfare in Islam. Unless it's a matter of all of us being wiped off the face of the earth, there is no justifiable reason to conduct warfare against non-combattants.

Most Iranians are interested in the West and much of what it has to offer (except for the decadence, nudity and sexual promiscuity, I guess). They love Americans and are so curious and excited to know what Americans think of them and I'm always so embarrassed and apologetic when I have to tell them that Americans know nothing about them, and are more inclined to automatically dislike Iranians because of how the government is represented. They, being more discerning, reply that they don't like the American government but they still like Americans. I'm usually not sure how to respond so I just tell them that many Americans tend to be less educated than Iranians and in general are very unaware of the world that surrounds them and trust what their government and media tell them. The good news is that there are so many Americans who are more thoughtful and reflective, so that's always appreciated and a happy ending.

It looks like the US and its cronies have a particular dislike for Iran because it's not afraid of them. I appreciate it when a country doesn't cower under American domineering.. though I suppose I understand why sometimes, it just can't afford to stick up for itself. What's particularly ironic or funny or sad is that Bush and other world leaders are basically the same... 2 sides of one coin.. "you're with us or against us" types.

A result of 30 years of American sanctions here is that Iran has learned to be quite self sufficient, much like India and its long-time policy of self-reliance. They are able to sustain themselves and manufacture most of what they need internally... like polyurethane gloves for people with latex allergies. I know it's random, but I just found it so interesting.

There are lots of foreign (particularly European and Japanese) imports too, like L'Oreal, Pantene, Nivea, Gillette, etc. These, of course, cost a pretty penny, but they're available to those who want it. They have all the technology stuff available, as well as all kinds of kitchen appliances too... I made sure to check on the kitchen appliances bit.

Speaking of which, I have learned to live without a microwave. It's not that bad. In fact, it would be fine if I had more pots and pans in which to heat stuff up *and* cook.

___________________________________
*So I had included some blatant opinions on certain world leaders and my dear hubby unposted my post because apparently here, bloggers whose opinions aren't in line with the party sogan tend to be jailed. So, in order to ensure that AliBob will be able to continue with his research without any unpleasantness, I have modified/removed some of my comments.

The Holy Shrine

2006-01-13T16:32:00.000+03:30

Last night after I got home from being 'fitted' for my chador, I came home and my darling Alibobert had cleaned up the place because we were having the Elahis over for tea.

I was supposed to make this amazing Pakistani style tea and wow them but it didn't quite work that way. The tea was *okay*, although AliBob said he loved it. Not sure how excited the Elahis were about it, but they were polite and drank it all. We also had snacks and stuff, and the Elahis had also brought several sweets over. They always outdo themselves.

So yeah, so much for being an amazing Paki hostess. At least I didn't screw up the fruit and we all enjoyed those. I forgot to take pictures of our little tea party. As always, we had a good time. They're such good fun.

Tonight, I went with Fatemeh, the Khanum, and Dr. Elahi to the Holy Shrine for the first time since I've been in Iran. It was great.

Okay, to readers who aren't Muslim, you might not understand how much contention there can be between Sunni Muslims and Shia (Or Shii) Muslims. In Pakistan they're killing each other, in Iraq, non Iraqi Sunnis (the ones who're being terroristy in general) are coming into Iraq and killing Shias.
In general, a lot of Sunni Muslims don't like Shias and don't even consider Shias to be Muslims. Some tolerate them, others don't and pass this hostility onto their kids and so forth. Of course, this hostility goes both ways, but I feel like if Sunnis weren't so mean to Shias, the latter wouldn't retaliate. It also differs from country to country. Iranian Shias, perhaps because they are safe in their Shia country, tend not to be anti Sunni or even concern themselves with the whole Sunni-Shia divide. We're all Muslims and that's good enough. In Pakistan, amongst many, I see a lot more hatred of and attacks on Shias and Shia retaliation by hating and attacking Sunnis too. I don't know, maybe it's the mentality of an oppressed people?

So Iran is a Shiite country. I think by now, everyone here knows I'm Sunni. At first, when people were finding out, I was embarrassed and didn't want it to be awkward and I didn't want them to hate me or dislike me or give me a hard time or give AliBob a hard time for marrying a Sunni.
Oddly enough, everyone knows I'm Sunni and it doesn't seem to matter to them. There's no shock, no ill feelings... there's just acceptance without judgment. They still share their Shia beliefs with me, are willing to teach me things I don't know and ask me excitedly if I have visited the Holy Shrine yet and that I really should because it's their source of pride and joy.

I wonder what a more fire and brimstone Sunni would say to them... "We think what you do is a sin. You don't follow real Islam. Your shrine-visiting ways are borderline blasphemous."

Whatever. I'm touched by their willingness to share their most precious site with me.

So I went to the Shrine, not knowing what to expect or how I would feel. I told Fatemeh honestly I felt stupid and I'd make a fool of myself and I wouldn't fit in and I didn't know what to do. She said no problem, no one will even know you're not one of them. Fatemeh and Khanum lent me one of their chadors. It was my first time actually being out and about in chador, and while I found it unwieldy and oftentimes a pain, I *love* the element of anonymity it brings. People just thought I was Iranian.

I tried taking pictures but they're forbidden so I snuck a few anyway. The lighting was too low to get a good photo of the insides but I'll post what I got.
First of all, it wasn't what I had expected. It's a huge area, this Holy Shrine of Hazrate Masoomeh. It has a huge courtyard with fountains and several entrances, and a new wing added on with a huge open room with marble floors and pillars and ceilings with some calligraphy in plaster.. (reminded me of Grand Central in NYC or Union Station in DC). There are several chambers and just lots and lots of room for people to pray or meditate or people-watch or sit with their families and hang out. You drop your shoes in a bag and can carry them around with you or drop them off at one of many (ours was #11) shoe storage cubbies behind a counter.

The room where the shrine is located is actually not that big. It is decorated with cut mirrors (much like the other shrine we went to for Dr. Elahi's uncle's 40th) and blue painted tiles and calligraphy. The floors are all marble but there are areas where big persian rugs are scattered for people to sit on. The women's area is separate from the men's area by a half wall so the shrine sits squarely in between the two so that both genders can visit and have a look inside. I think AliBob posted a picture he found of the shrine.

Women were crying and touching the the shrine and praying fervently. Some people visit from very far away just for this one chance. There were women from all over. Pakistanis, Arabs, Turks, Tajiks, Mongols, etc. I felt weird touching the shrine, like a poser, and I wasn't sure what to feel or say. That was the most awkward part for me, I suppose, trying to feel something or some connection to it and actually believing that the Masoomah would hear what I had to say, but it was hard because this was never a part of how I was raised. I'm also kind of a cynic. It did remind me of the Catholic shrines you hear of where miracles happen and people go and pray to local saints. Though here, we didn't have any candles.

So I told the Masoomah that if she was there and could hear me (not sure how likely that is, since there were SO many people and I could barely hear myself think or talk) and had time, she could help me instill in myself a healthy respect for a tradition like shrine visiting. Hah.

To be fair, part of what made it hard for me to get in the mood was all the pushing and shoving. It's normal to people here, and in fact, even to most Pakistanis, but I suppose being raised abroad, I never grew up with pushing and shoving as part of my culture. It was always politely waiting your turn and all that. It really really really annoys me to no end, this shoving and pushing and knocking around.

I'm sure you've all read the news about the stampede that happened in Mecca and killed all those people. It happens almost every year and it makes me livid, not to mention embarrassed. How can people be so devoted and pious and God-loving/God-fearing (not the same thing, in my opinion) and completely forget the most basic principle of being kind to God's creation and your fellow man. How does rude shoving and pushing and anger and hitting mesh with anything good and beautiful and loving? It doesn't. There are no exuses. I don't care how pious you are, how devoted you are, how much fervor there is to fulfill God's will, how little time you have left in life, how long it took you to get here.. blah blah.. none of those are a good enough excuse to forget basic decency and good character and act like barbarians. I mean, can a Muslim imagine Prophet Muhammad being like that in his devotion? Again, where are the ethics?

So I did do the touching and I did a couple of kisses for good measure and so I would fit in totally, but then I just slipped out afterward. I also feel like if the place is imbued with the spirit of this amazing saintly woman who died here, then I don't *have* to touch the metal frame around her tomb to benefit... I could just soak up the vibes pervading the whole space.

I told Fatemeh about the shoving and she said you just have to push back but I explained that I find that so rude and sometimes painful if I get hit that I refuse to do it to other people. She understood but said that everyone pushes, so everyone knows to push back and no one minds. In my mind, it just has no place in a spiritual setting.. or anywhere else, for that matter.

So anyway, despite my inability to connect at the actual structure surrounding the tomb, it was still touching to see the emotion around me and I actually loved all the rest of it, sitting down, reading out of a prayer book in privacy, thinking. Everyone is sitting together and yet we are all in our own private space. I took advantage of having my chador pulled low over my face so I wouldn't have to worry about schooling my features around other people. I'm still self conscious. I thought of family and friends and I hope good things all come your way.

I also like that even though women's and men's spaces were segregated, there were big areas for them to worship and meditate and just be together while in a sacred space, so it did make it more family friendly.

I've decided I want to go back again. It really was something else.

And now, for the pictures, poor in quality as they may be.

This is Fatemeh and me (in chador!) right outside the entrance for the actual shrine room. The Khanum took this picture standing in the courtyard. The entrance is marked by that big green velvet curtain. In fact, if you peek inside, that thing you see straight ahead inside is the actual tomb and surrounding structure.

This one below, though blurry, is a look into one of the prayer/meditation chambers (it's the Imam Khomeini room) off the main great hall in the new wing. Those ceilings and walls are done up in mirror and the bottom half is marble. It's blurry because both Fatemeh and I had our hands on the camera and were trying to snap it superquick.

Here, I was hiding behind Fatemeh's shoulder so I could get a decent snap of something... anything. There are people sitting at the doorways with rainbow colored dusters ready to tap people who are transgressing the rules and I didn't want the guy sitting at this doorway to see me. Anyway, this is another chamber for the men. Or maybe it's a passage through to the shrine room.

Dr. and Mrs. Elahi and me (I'm on the left, can you tell?!?!) in the courtyard. Apparently it wasn't that crowded because the busiest days are Wednesday and Thursday nights, but for a Friday night, there were lots of people in my opinion.. a few hundred or so. It was just SO cold that most of the people were inside.

Us ladies in front of one of the entrance/exit arches. Which one am I?!

So back to the same old same old.

2006-01-12T18:10:00.000+03:30

So it turns out that our Eid last night wasn't very happening at all. There was no fanfare, no crowds, nothing really out of the ordinary. In fact, I even had my English conversation class on Wednesday night, and when I told the girls (it was just 3 of us total) that they could cancel if they wished, they said no no, this class is fun. Yes, I am *that* fantastic a teacher. :) J/k.. it's just girls chatting so it is actually quite fun.

Anyway I asked the girls if this is how Eid always was and they said yes, pretty much. They call family and friends and maybe go visiting a little, but not much else. Interestingly enough, I also learned that several of their family members do in fact slaughter animals for the sacrifice but there was still no overt indication of it being a holiday around this area, ie no animals spotted.

Oh speaking of which, (yes, I'm about to digress) since we've come here, we actually haven't seen *any* farm animals running around. I was expecting donkeycarts and horsecarts, sheep and cows here and there crossing the street, lots of chickens running around or in cages on the streets.. but no. Nothing. I think there are 4 or 5 chickens and ducks that belong to a household so they're like pets (except when one mysteriously disappears every so often) but nothing else. No animal dung on the streets.. no braying of donkeys. There are some stray cats you see slinking around, and at night sometimes you can hear dogs howling... but they seem to scatter during the day. They must hide out in the mountains. Sigh, I'm being cheated of my 3rd world experience. If I wanted clean streets and fam animal-free neighborhoods, I would have stayed in the Virginia suburbs. Actually, we had cows and horses where I lived in Virginia, so really the comparison is moot.

So anyway, back to Eid here in Iran. They all get one day off from school and work, which is odd. Overall, I'm surprised that in a Muslim country and in such a religious city, it didn't feel like one of the most important Islamic holidays, and people here only get 1 day off instead of the usual 3 or 4. Innnnteresting.

Apparently, the Persian New Year, Noruz, is what replaces all other celebrations as the biggest thing. It lasts 10 or 13 days or something like that, and that's when people are off from school and work and people try and fly into Iran from abroad to celebrate with their families and it's just one long celebration.

Some of the ladies, being more religious, had expressed a certain embarrassment and regret that Noruz overshadows the Eids, but they explained that during the Shah's time, he eleveated every Persian holiday to boost nationalism and cultural pride, and he downplayed Islam and, at least in terms of days off and celebrations, the trend seems to have stuck.

No worries, because from what I've noticed here, people are able to balance culture and religion pretty well. They love their Persian/Zoroastrian holidays and celebrations and are incredibly proud of it all, but it doesn't seem to conflict with their absolute devotion and piety as Muslims. So more power to them for having that many more holidays and enjoying them all.

Apparently there was a lot of very good Eid programming on TV. I suppose if I had watched Persian channels and understood them, I would feel more Eid-y. As it were, the Pakistani channel (PTV Prime) had lots of Eid programming too so I watched a bit of that. It was some boring music show in Lahore where all the songs sound the same, but I like the sound of bhangra music so I enjoyed. I also got to laugh at the cheesy dance moves, at the very poor sound and at the camera and programming glitches and awkward hosting by the MCs.

Oh, and we took a self portrait for Eid last night. I told him at least we should have one pic of the holiday. The green shalwar qameez (Paki loose-pant long-tunic garb) AliBob is wearing is the same one he wore on his birthday. His clothing of choice and comfort is shalwar qameez... what a Paki wannabe! We call it his special occasion ensemble, also known as his pyjamas. And don't be fooled, though it may look like I always wear the same gray t-shirt, this one is, in fact, a different one. The other finally got washed after a few weeks of accumulating body soil. Mua ha. Ha.

That's all we had on Eid. Snow and each other. We always have a good time together.

Anyway, the snow continued into the night and, lo and behold, today it had stuck, but only on the mountains. It's still weird for me to see snow in the desert, but whatever. The other thing seems to be rain. In the past few weeks it has rained on several days--not a heavy rainfall, but more like a constant pitter patter drizzle through the night. I'm annoyed that it feels so undeserty. I love rain. How dare it ruin my exotic Iranian desert adventure experience by raining AND snowing? I can't handle many more of my stereotypes, prejudices and preconceived notions being shattered. If I'd wanted a wet snowy winter, I'd just go back to Virginia. We'll just chalk it up to winter.

Today, Fatemeh invited me over to her place because she got a snow day. In Qom, a couple of centimeters does the trick and school is off. So we hung out and ate sweets and then Dr. Elahi came over and the 3 of us ate lunch together. It was ghormeh sabzi and it was *really* good... similar to the Pakistani palak gosht.

Then later on this evening, when the Khanum came home from work (yes, it was her first official day as she opened the doors of her private law practice) and we walked over to a seamstress's place so she could measure me for my chador. There wasn't much measuring involved (chador means tent) and she just let it drop and we determined the right length for m tent.

Anyway, AliBobba got a couple of good pics of the snowy mountains. I had taken some too but those were quite honestly just such crap.
Enjoy!

I'm Dreaming of a White Eid

2006-01-11T17:04:00.000+03:30

Eid Mubarak!!!! (Eid is pronounced Eed, and Mubarak is Mu-bah'-ruck and means congratulations or Happy or something.. like Merry Christmas, Happy Easter, Eid Mubarak)

Quick note of explanation to those who don't know what Eid is: Muslims have 2 Eids. There's Eid al Fitr, which is the Eid celebrated at the end of Ramadan, where we get lots of money and presents and we feast like starving pigs from morning until night. It's my favorite. I like to think of it as Muslim Christmas*.
Anyway. So Eid al Adha, the Feast of Sacrifice,is the Eid after Hajj, when, in some Muslim countries, you tend to see lots of goats and sheep tied up in the streets and then you see their bags of viscera decaying all over town for days after the whole event is over. Yum.

The sacrifice commemorates when Abraham was willing to sacrifice his son for God, but God, seeing his devotion, told him to sacrifice a ram instead.
The point is to sacrifice something of yours to give to society and make sure the poor are provided for. I feel like people usually just take it to mean you kill a big bovine animal and give a third of it to the poor, a third to a neighbor, and a third to family. Usually, we know so many people that we end up with like the equivalent of 3 cows and 5 goats or something ridiculous and I wonder why we, not the poor, end up with so much meat.

Okay, so that was a little irreverent and honestly not everyone has that attitude and many people do still remember the whys of what we do as Muslims. This is what wiki explains about Eid al Adha: "The charitable instincts of the Muslim community are demonstrated during Eid ul-Adha by the concerted effort to see that no impoverished Muslim is left without sacrificial food during this day. ...Eid ul-Adha gives concrete realization to what the Muslim community ethic means in practice."

In fact, wiki has very informative little blurbs on both the Eids so I'll just paste the links here for those of you who are interested in a little knowledge-building:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_ul-Adha
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_ul-Fitr

Hah, the bit on Eid ul Fitr in USA and Canada is interesting and true. Ah, to be Muslims in multicultural America (except for the governmental eavesdropping rights-snatching home-raiding crap) is quite something else.

So yes, back to the ethics... the whole ethics bit is great and caring for community is great, but it's just disappointing at a global level to see so much push for rituals that seem to have become hollow and meaningless and exploited.

Anyway, for animal rightsy people or just people who think animal sacrifice is a little passe and perhaps not as practical or beneficial as it may have been 1400 years ago-- when it was possible to make sure everyone was fed off one camel or cow or sheep and it was special for them because meat was such a rarity-- a viable alternative tends to be just giving charity to charities for the poor.

So in Qom (being the most religious and conservative city in the Islamic Republic of Iran) I have been expecting, all along, to see sheep and other cattle tied up and getting fattened for slaughter for slaughtering today, when I would see their viscera and blood rivulets. But disappointingly, no. Nothing of the sort. Apparently, though some people do slaughter animals here still, it is much more common in Iran to just give money to charities to make sure the poor are fed. I like.

We DID, however, end up getting snow! It's the first snowfall of winter, and though snow is not uncommon in Qom, it only happens a few times during winter and never tends to stick. It's amazing to see big fat fluffy snowflakes falling in a brown mountainy desert. I tried getting a picture my little digicam just isn't that powerful. Here's what I did get though.. try and see the snow if you can:

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*Speaking of Christmas here, it didn't feel like it at all and a lot of people didn't even know it was Christmas. Some newspapers had pictures of "Baba Noel" but that's about it. It was sad. We did, however, listen to some Andy Williams (good thing Bobo brought his Andy Williams collection or what would we have done?!?!), called AliBobert's family and it was really cool to talk to them and especially to get to talk to Grandma and Grandpa because Grandpa has had cancer and it was just so good to hear his voice sound as jolly and loving as always. We sent xmas presents to the family via internet. What did people do before internet?
Anyway, we miss you, my white family.

Microwaves, Humility and Gender Roles

2006-01-10T16:36:00.000+03:30

So I was thinking about Ms. S’s visit to me yesterday and the different things I learned about her. Interestingly, she does not have a college degree, or even a high school one, she told me regretfully. It was marriage and child for her, but she has been attending Adult School (which apparently, they have all over Iran) to get her high school diploma. She’s taking exams nowadays, 5 total, and she hopes to go to college to study psychology. Her goal is to get a PhD eventually. Very cool.

She also happens to be on her own while her husband is away on Hajj for a month in Mecca. She doesn’t know how to drive and she’s running the household and taking care of her son all on her own.

It seems a common thing here, amongst these ladies anyway. They married young, had children and did the domestic thing, but they still find time to attend school and earn degrees, oftentimes while pregnant or nursing or taking care of youngsters. They also tend to have to manage on their own as their husbands travel frequently for sabbaticals or courses abroad or pilgrimages. It seems almost everyone is gone for Hajj for a month around this time.

As I was explaining to her about my effort to cook near mealtimes because I want the food to be hot and I don’t have a microwave or enough pots to heat it up afterwards, I discovered that Ms. S also doesn’t own a microwave and never has. She laughed as she said they lead a simple life. Interesting, since her husband is the head of the language center at Mofid, and he’s fluent in English too

I feel bad for whining about my lack of electrical appliances when people here live that everyday and happily so. Many of these faculty families live in 2 bedroom apartments and have several children. The Elahis for example, 7 people total in a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom apartment for 6 years. Although now 3 of the sons are off at university and one's graduating high school this year. Still, it's amazing.

In so many ways, Iran reminds me of a typical developing nation, and yet it seems so much more similar to America in other ways. In many cultures, especially in Muslim countries, being domestic is still the woman’s role (one could argue that by and large, that exists in America too, but you know what I mean), and while I see that here too, the men all still do their share of stuff around the house. From cooking, to taking care of the kids while the wives are at school or work and other “womanly” roles. There is no shame in helping your wife set the table or serve tea to guests or helping her clean up after a meal or anything else.

For example, Dr. and Mrs Elahi cut up fish together; he helps her, and Dr. Mirmoosavi helps his wife prepare the meat into mince etc. to freeze for later, and when Ms. MM first got married at 14, her husband did the cooking and helped her with all the chores. Men are just more self sufficient here and really have their wives as companions and partners and not just glorified housekeepers.

In Pakistani culture as I’ve seen in general, when we have dinner parties, the men will tend to sit around and continue talking while the women busy themselves cleaning up and getting the tea ready, but here, time and again, I’ve seen the men get up and help clear up and serve tea and fruit and dessert without fear of being emasculated. Although I must say I got lucky with my dad, who's less afraid to tackle all areas of domestic life, and he does so with diligence and meticulousness.

The men we know here are also alright with the idea of their wives going back to school and spending years schooling or being away at work or going abroad on business trips. From what we’ve been told, Dr. Elahi is actually an excellent cook too.

Humility seems to be the principle notion of how they all conduct themselves. It’s inspiring. The very antithesis of the whole “not without my daughter” crap stuffed down our throats on the other side of the pond.
Here, among the people we know anyway, daughters are just as encouraged to pursue their dreams and goals as sons and marriage isn’t an interruption but rather just a natural progression that doesn’t hinder anyone’s plans.

~s

Can one digress at the beginning of a topic?

2006-01-09T16:07:00.000+03:30

So I woke up embarrassingly late today… because I can. Actually, I want to get up earlier, but I can’t get to sleep at night until 3 or 4… so of course, my wake up time ends up being 11 or 12. So because I’ve been unable to breathe normally at night and just have coughing fits, I’ve been having trouble sleeping and so I wake up late. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

I lost my voice last week because of the sinus stuff, but I still held class so the ladies had suggested different home remedies (soaking eucalyptus leaves in our makeshift humidifer, which is basically a pot of water sitting on our heater throughout the night, gargling with salt water, eating lots of turnips). I did the gargling, did the makeshift humidifer, didn’t do the eucalyptus because I’m too lazy to go outside and pick the leaves.

Turnips I had 2 weeks ago when I first got sick. The Elahis had Bobby and me over and the Khanum made me turnips. It was so cute. The turnips were for my illness, but we all had tea and turnips. They also made me eat sweet lemons and oranges. And, the Khanum also made me a tea from a little purple flower that you dry and steep in boiling water. It’s called “khatmi” in Persian, but I don’t know what the English would be. It could be lavender… that’s the only little purple flower I know of, so of course, it must be the only little purple flower in existence on this green earth, and thus, lavender.

AliBob’s tutor’s wife had also called to ask me how I was doing and to suggest a few treatments, and my neighbor Mrs. MM also came by 4 mornings in a row when I was apparently dead asleep and drugged up to check on me.

Also, Agha Fazl also inquired about my health and he told AliBob that his doctor neighbor also wanted to know how I was doing and was offering her doctoring skills to me again if I needed them.

I feel special. Move aside Sharon with your paltry stroke. Here I come with my sinusitis. For a day, after reading about the bird flu thing in Turkey, I tried to convince myself I had bird flu; it just sounds so much more exciting than sinusitis... better ring to it. But no, just sinusitis.

It's annoying because it’s not typical for me to get sick like this and so frequently too. I’m healthy as a horse. A healthy horse, anyway. Not a sickly one with ribs all stickin’ out. Because unfortunately, I haven’t seen my own ribs in years…or any other bones for that matter. They’re safely blanketed in layers of fat.

But so far, this whole post has been a digression because I meant to tell you that, after waking up at 11am, as I sat in bed for the better part of an hour wondering what to do with myself (besides the obvious answers like getting out of bed, washing up, doing chores or any otherwise useful activities), the doorbell rang so I threw on my headscarf, my black overcloak “abaya”, and looked for my keys, unlocked our door, put on my shoes and ran down the stairs to the building entrance (yes, this is the process everytime someone rings the doorbell because our little intercom phone thing doesn't work) and it was Mrs. S, one of my students and her 7 year old son.

It turns out that she made me turnip honey and brought it over for me. Yes, let me say it again, Turnip Honey. So you boil the turnips, make a hole in them, pour in the honey and let it soak in there overnight and then put the mixture in a glass and put it behind the heater to let it warm up and then you drink it. It actually was *really* good. It was a tiny glass of the stuff. She said she'll bring me more before bed. Aww. (I offered to go over there, but she said no no, I'll just come.) She also declined tea and fruit. Am I a bad hostess? Do I give off a vibe of general ineptitude?

Anyway, her visit was a good motivator to do some housework and cooking.

Salty Water, Nice People

2006-01-09T11:14:00.000+03:30

As some of you may know, Qom's water supply is salty. This means they constantly have problems with their pipes wearing out and that it's hard to get a good lather in the shower.

It also means that people buy water (for drinking and often for cooking) from little self-serve kiosks with water pipes. You buy a prepaid card and then fill up your "gallons" (any one of a variety of sizes of plastic jerry-can-looking jugs--from 5-20 liters, but never actual gallons!) at the kiosk.

I took two of our smaller gallons for a fill up last night and my card went from saying "930 liters left", suddenly, to "your card is not valid". I thought perhaps I'd done something wrong or it ran out of water or something, especially since this was a new card.

Soon an older man rode up on a motorcycle with his young son. They asked if it was broken and I explained what happened. So he tried it out and it worked for him. But he refused to let me leave without getting water, insisting that I give him my gallons, which he then filled up. They also explained that sometimes the very small electric chip on the card gets worn down or scratched so that it doesn't work, and perhaps that's what happened.

In any case, just another example of Iranian kindness and hospitality.

~Robert/Irfan Ali

Religion and Politics

2006-01-06T13:32:00.000+03:30

Thursday is a day off for me—having just Friday off, in the traditional Iranian style, was not enough time, especially if you have errands to run, as most shops are closed on Friday. But since Sara is still out of commission from her sinusitis, I decided to combine my shopping for Desi items with a visit to Hazrat Fatima Masuma’s shrine, which is right next to the only shop in town selling Paki/Indian/Afghani items.

I was hoping just to zip in to the shrine, do the ziyarat (the ceremony of paying respects to Fatima Masuma, praying for self and others, etc.), sit and reflect (and people watch), and get to shopping.

But the shrine seemed a bit busier than expected for a Thursday morning and at the entrance I joined a line to be patted down by teen-age Basiji paramilitary volunteers. Stepping in to the courtyard I bumped into a huge mass of people waving banners and placards, and heard some rather bombastic speech-giving going on. I looked towards the podium, and only about 100 yards away from me was the oft-reviled President of Iran, Ahmedinizjad! For some reason he was giving a speech about something (just caught some generalities of hoping for economic and scientific progress and success for Iran—seems to be working as the Iranian space program is bustling and Iran is poised to birth a cloned sheep in just a few more months) which brought most of everything else to a halt. So, if you can’t beat them join them, and I listened and watched until he wrapped things up.

The crowd was varied and probably reflected the diversity of the Iranian people—true believers at the front and then radiating concentric circles moving from interested viewers, to the bemused, to befuddled pilgrims like myself just waiting to get back to business as usual. I tried not to take the occasional “death to America” sloganeering too personally, as both academically and experientially I know this is essentially anti-American government sentiment (often times rightly so), not any animosity to the American people. And, as the only American present for his speech (I’m assuming), there was nothing but welcome words and kindness from the Iranians at the shrine, whether clerics or the common man, who recognized me as an American.

At least in the end Hazrat Fatima was still there, peaceful and welcoming as ever.

Anybody who would like to be prayed for at Hazrat Masuma’s shrine, feel free to send your requests via our email contact here or post in the comments to any entry.

~Irfan Ali/Robert

Important People and Big Fish

2006-01-03T13:38:00.000+03:30

So last night, we went to Agha Fazl’s (ayatollah garb alert!) house for dinner. He is the head of publications at Mofid University, and he was an unofficial adviser to Khatemi, the former President of Iran. He’s such a jovial man and speaks what English he knows with great zeal and confidence. His daughter is in my conversation class and she’s just delightful. Again, she’s only 14 but she was in the kitchen w/her mom and taking care of her neighbor’s baby and running around making sure everything was alright for everyone.

AliBob's tutor/friend/student (they exchange Persian and Arabic lessons for English lessons) Ali G. brought his wife and 2 children. His older son, 4 and a half years old, couldn't believe that I don't speak Persian, so he proceeded to tell me the very long and very Persian sounding stories of Noah and his Ark, and of Jonah and the Whale. I understood big fish in the whole discourse. I have trouble with adult Persian, let alone the lisped Persian of an excited 4 and a half year old. He did speak well though. So cute.

The food was fantastic, as usual. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s such a thing as a bad at cooking/domestic stuff Iranian woman. Much like the question over the existence of the abominable snowman, one can never really know, but the 8-ball points to no.

Anyway, there was fish, chicken, lamb fesenjan (which was delicious, by the way), salads, rice, doogh (a yogurt and water and salt and mint drink…very refreshing). It was all fantastic.

They had asked their neighbor, who is a doctor, to come see me and make sure I was alright. I said no really, I don’t do the doctor thing… because eventually, it goes away, but she came and she was nice, so I relented. Good news, it’s nothing.

As usual, there were questions about the existence of children. I told (or tried) telling them how Iranians are always amazed that after 4.5 years of marriage (Oh. My. God. Has it really been *that* long?) I have neither children nor cooking ability. She joked that at this point Iranians would start worrying over my infertility. That could very well be, but I’m just not willing to test out the theory in case I end up proving them wrong. And judging by the size of my big brown rambunctious family, I can safely guess that infertility might not be a problem on my end.

I also feel bad because the dinner was at 8 tonight, a weeknight. This meant that dinner was really more like at 9 or 9:30. When wondering why it was so late, it turns out that they thought *I* had wanted it so. Agha Fazl’s daughter had invited us for dinner when she came for class on Sunday, and I had asked her what time, so I could see if I would have to move my Monday night class. She said “anytime you want” and so I then thought that maybe it was just an open invitation like a “come visit us and eat snacks and have tea etc.” type of thing so I told her, in what I thought was an apologetic tone, that I had a class from 7pm-8pm on Monday night because of a temporary change in schedule. She said okay, no problem.

I thought that was the end of the conversation and she would assume that it was a “sorry I can’t make it because I have class” response.

Yesterday afternoon, Bobo came home from the Uni and said “thanks for telling me we’re going to a big dinner tonight”. I told him we weren’t going, that we were invited, but I told her I had class around dinnertime. He said that well , apparently it was interpreted as an acceptance and 2 other families had already been invited. Oops.

So, I felt really bad and guilty that because of me we were having this late dinner that went past everyone’s bedtimes.

I also felt bad because they had called their doctor neighbor and apparently she had come by while we were having dinner so they sent her away and asked her to come again. So she came back at around 10, just to check my health. Yikes. I feel really really bad about that one.

Boboli and I just hope that people don’t think we’re snobs who must have things our way. I know people are trying to be nice but when everyone tries to be overformal and overnice it can get messy and unwittingly imposing on our part.

Anyway. Live and learn, I suppose. I think I ate more last night than I have in the past 4 days combined. AliBob also managed to eat some fish, some chicken and some fesenjan. I'm impressed, especially since he's really really not a fish person. There were lots of sharp little bones though, which made it hard to eat. We didn't find a Jonah in any of the fish.

~s

Babies and Eyebrows

2006-01-02T13:32:00.000+03:30

I went to Mrs. MM’s place today to help her study for an English exam she has tomorrow. She has skipped the first two years of English and started studying straight from the level 3 book so she could pass an entrance exam to get into seminary school (howzeh). I’m not sure it’s a good idea to skip so much foundational stuff, but she really wants to get started on school soon.

Here’s an interesting fact, Mrs. MM was married at 14, had her first child at 15, and now, at 34, has already married off said first daughter (daughter was married at 18, a year and a half ago.) She’s a fantastic cook (how could she not be, she’s Iranian) and her youngest daughter is 11 years old and has already started learning how to cook. So far, she can cook rice, chicken and spaghetti and do all the house chores. They sure do grow up quickly. I think that’s why I get along with the kids. I’m in denial of my own looming (fine, already here) adulthood.

Mrs. MM is a fun lady, and her youngest daughter is something akin to a prodigy; she’s just brilliant. Her husband (ayatollah garb alert) is currently leading a group of people at the Hajj, in Mecca and he’s a Seyyed, which, from what I’m told, means he’s a descendant of the Prophet. By dint of his lineage, he gets to wear either a black or a green turban. (So that means Khomeini is also a descendant of the Prophet, judging from the black turban he wore.)

Anyway, Mrs. MM wondered how I’ve been married so long and can’t cook and don’t have kids. Incidentally, Ms. N also thinks I should have kids as soon as possible; she had her first son within a year of her marriage, while she was in her last year of university. I know I got married before my senior year of college (wow, frightfully young), but a kid then would have killed me.

It’s better, they all say, having children as soon as possible after marriage. The ladies in my grammar class and I have already talked about this and they, too, feel that now is the best time to get started and get done, before I’m too old to keep up or worse, infertile. They may be right (less age difference, you get to see them grow up…blah blah) but really, I love other people’s kids enough… I don’t need my own. Not now anyway. Anyway, they also recognize the Iranian trend of marrying young and having kids fast. So many of these ladies are in their 30’s or 40’s and already have married children or grandchildren. In some cases, they have adult children *and* newborns.

Another interesting thing, while I’m on the topic of things people find so odd/curious/unnatural about me, is several of the ladies’ concerns about my eyebrows. Let it be known now, I was growing them out because well, I thought I’d get something nice done here in Iran. After my haircutting incident, I decided I’d just get them done in Pakistan, where I can make myself understood. I was never a huge eyebrow plucker anyway. A little cleanup is good enough. I really don’t dig the pencil thin perpetually surprised unnatural looking darkened with mismatching pencil eyebrows anyway.

I tried to explain to the ladies that my eyebrows aren’t that thick, dark, or long anyway so I can’t do much with them except let them be…(my kid sister got the awesome eyebrows gene, that little punk. Actually, she got the overall gorgeous looks and size 0 genes too, for that matter.) Anyway, I tried the whole “I like it natural” argument. I’m not sure they understand… they just kind of nod blankly.

But I don’t mind. I find it amusing and also so touching that they’re concerned about my eyebrows and skin and childlessness. Honestly, they’re just so sweet and well-intentioned and curious that I can’t hold it against them. And they have every right to be concerned with my skin. It’s horrendous, yes even moreso than it was in the US. I’m concerned myself. Why, at 25, does it look like I hit puberty yesterday?

On the other hand, I have found myself talking with ladies about Bobert on more than one occasion as we take inventory of all his ‘beautiful’ (their words, not mine) features, like his nose, his beautiful glowing white complexion, his eyes, his height, and his general splendiferous beautifulness. He’s like one of the girls we all talk about. I also find myself boasting about his absolute self-sufficiency and use that as a partial explanation for why I can’t do anything. He does it all himself and without complaint, so I never learned.

Today, Mrs. MM and one of my college-bound conversation students and I were talking and they were all saying how handsome Mr. Robert is and how every feature is perfect. Ah, my little fop. All he needs now is a cute little mincing walk.

He was always the wifier one of us two anyway, so it makes sense that we talk about his clear skin (I hate him for it and yet am optimistic that any potential kids will inherit this trait generously from him) and his domestic skills (again I’m hoping future progeny will be like him too, except they won’t bruise like peaches).

~s

Happy New Year

2006-01-01T18:16:00.000+03:30

Happy Gregorian New Year to everyone!

Wow, what an anticlimactic segue into 2006.

It didn't feel like anything other than a regular weeknight here, since in Iran the real new year worthy partying over is yet to come. Then there will be much merrymaking for 10 days.

Ali fell over a gutter yesterday and had cuts and scrapes on his hands and knees, and I have a cold or something.
I did cook a new kidney bean curry I looked up off the internet because I can't get mine to taste like my mom's stuff, so I figured I should do something else. AliBob loved it, so I would call it a success. (He loves almost anything though, so I'm not sure if that's really any testament to my cooking skills.)
We went to sleep at midnight with a quiet Happy New Year to each other.

Let's hope this coming year brings more peace and joy and ethical living all over the world. I also would like to add a little request for the cooking fairies to sprinkle cooking skill dust on me pretty please. Or enough funds to hire a personal chef. I'll accept either one.

In the House of Strength

2005-12-23T19:17:00.000+03:30

A uniquely Iranian institution is the Zoor Khane (zoorkhane), or, House of Strength. This is a place where various kinds of exercises are performed, including body weight pushups on a plank and whirling dervish spinning (about 10x faster than you see the Mevelevi Sufis doing it), heavy club swinging, light club throwing, heavy shield lifting (similar to a bench press), and the pressing and swinging of a heavy iron bow over head. These are all derivative of military training dating back thousands of years over the rich Persian history. All are done to the accompaniment of a drummer who bangs out a loud, rhythmic beat along with verses from Persia’s beautiful poets and wisemen—Hafez, Saadi, Firdowsi, and others.

I had been longing to visit and participate in the zoorkhane for years now. Some of the exercises have entered American wrestling (not *professional wrestling* mind you) and other combat sports—especially through the “Hindu” pushups and squats of Matt Furey and the Clubbells of Scott Sonnon. Sadly, during my first two visits to the zoorkhane here in Qom I learned that the traditional form of wrestling, or Koshti Pahlevani is basically extinct in Iran, even though the Varzesh-e Pahlevani, or traditional exercises of the zoorkhane are still practiced.

In any case, the men of the zoorkhane welcomed me warmly and after watching one session last week I did my first exercise session today. Beginners train in a room off to the side of the main section of the zoorkhane itself, which is where the more experienced members gather to perform the exercises together, in unison. After getting my first taste of training I was much better able to appreciate the efforts going on in the training pit.

Most amazing is that many of the participants are older men, at least in their 50’s and several, including the main teacher appear to be in their 60’s. Yet they are in there chucking around the clubs, jumping and spinning in the air, and dropping into and out of the pushup position from standing! There’s something to be said for staying active.

These older men also epitomize the essence of the zoorkhane—humility, strength, courage, and guidance. Far from the pumped, mirror-ogling types in bodybuilding gyms, or the other cocky, self-centered professional athletes of football (both kinds), basketball, and so on, the men of the zoorkhane cultivate their morals and ethics along with their bodies. When people know you are a pahlevan or “strongman” it is also assumed you are just and righteous and they will come to you for help, mediation, protection, or whatever else they need. It’s no surprise then that the pahlevans have a long tradition of generosity and help for the poor.

No real pictures to post yet, but hopefully some will come in the near future. In the meantime, you can look at the gravestone of a pahlevan that I stumbled across in Tehran during the ceremony for the passing of Dr. Elahi’s uncle. Clearly visible are the two clubs, iron bow, and pushup plank.

You can read more about the sport here: http://www.pahlavani.com/

~Irfan Ali/Robert

Check the Archives!

2005-12-23T19:09:00.000+03:30

Sara, in her effort to chronicle (seemingly) every moment of our trip here has started to upload diary-like blog entries. To make it confusing for you all though, she has been back-dating them to the actual days they happened.

So just go back and take a peak in the archives for some of our happenings here.

XO,
Alibob and Sara

B-Day time again, this time it's the Other White Meat!

2005-12-21T17:08:00.000+03:30

Happy Winter Solstice!
Also, Happy Birthday to my darling aged hubby, Great White. He’s like cheese or wine… he improves with age. At least I like to think (or hope) so.

We didn’t do much. Sadly, I didn’t do anything too special for him, as I mentioned, I had tried last week to go buy him a present and a card. I had no luck on either, but managed to find a tiny tiny card in really bad English that I bought for comic purposes and to mark his birthday abroad. I also found cute funny cheesy wrapping paper. That will just have to wait until l find something to wrap.

I went to teach my conversation class and I learned that the winter solstice (called "Yaldah") is an important night. Families try to get together and spend quality time together just laughing and talking and bonding over fruit and nuts and seeds, like pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds and other roasted salted stuff. One of the students ran to her apartment and brought back a long black sword-shaped seed so we cracked those and ate the seeds inside and talked. I don't know what they were, but they were delish. On this night, people also try and stay up late, if possible.

So I went back home to my precious family for a double celebration. I had also tried cooking something special for his birthday. My mom makes this awesome baked chicken dish so I made something similar (let’s hope I remembered correctly) except I have no oven so I just cooked it. So it’s cooked baked chicken. I also made green beans and potatoes (a curry type thing, for lack of a better English word), which turned out very well. I also made some khichri (lentil rice?) and raita. A veritable feast. I am pleased to announce that it was all edible.

We had already finished off the cake this morning.
Anyway, AliBob took this picture of our “spread”, excited by my efforts. That’s the tiny card propped up against the bottle.

Then, because there was nothing else to do and only a couple of hours remained before his birthday was over, we took some self photos, to commemorate his birthday:

My sister also called to wish him a happy birthday, which was very cool. The rest of my family was at work, but my parents had tried calling a few days ago to wish him a happy birthday. They ended up emailing. I think some of my cousins also remembered and emailed him, which was a very pleasant surprise.

I was thinking of ode'ing to AliBob, but it would get way too mushy and personal and most likely inappropriate, so let's just leave it at he's the best and I'm the luckiest.

Let them Eat Cake!

2005-12-20T16:54:00.000+03:30

Today turned out to be interesting. About an hour before my class, we got a phone call and it turns out that the Tehran correspondent for the big French newspaper Le Figaro was in Qom for a couple of days and found out that some Americans were here and so she wanted to interview us to see what we were doing here.

The interview ended up being light and fun and she brought along an Iranian photographer. The photographer, Niusha, is only 24 but has been working professionally since she was 17. That’s the advantage of starting careers in these countries; you don’t really need to have the degrees and advanced degrees and portfolios and stuff. So anyway, her photograph is on the cover of the book Lipstick Jihad (look it up on Amazon). She was born and raised in Tehran and is married to a Dutch reporter who came to Tehran for some assignment, met her, they fell in love and happily ever after. So cute.

The reporter, Delphine, is actually a French woman whose father is Iranian. He moved to France as a child and was raised there and married a French woman. So Delphine didn’t really grow up knowing Persian. She has been in Iran for 4 years now and her Persian sounds awesome to me. She is married to the Baghdad correspondent for the Los Angeles Times who’s an Iranian raised in the US.

Anyway, the girls were very nice and invited me to Tehran for some fun parties. They found Qom to be boring and dull. In Qom’s defense, it’s not all bad but it’s just not a big city. People who are interested in religion come here. Pilgrims come here (temporarily). For everything else, there’s the rest of Iran.

Anyway, I am more than excited to go party with them but I have no idea when I’ll go and I have a feeling they might find me quite dull, since I won’t end up drinking and I don’t own any really hoochie party outfits. Ah well.

Then they came up to our apartment and took pictures of us “relaxing” at home and after that, the Khanum Elahi, who had stayed throughout, took them back to the University, where they were going to interview Dr. Elahi (it was like 9 at this time).

AliBob and I had dinner and I made us tea and we were just getting online when our bell rang so he ran downstairs to answer the door.

Turns out, it was the Elahis, having remembered it was AliBob’s birthday around this time and they brought with them a fantastic cake from an awesome bakery. (I’d tasted some heavenly cream rolls from there last week when the Khanum took me grocery shopping and she picked up some rolls because her son Mohammad would be home from college and it had been his birthday. This was also the same day we went shopping for birthday presents and they got really nice shoes for Mohammad but I didn’t see much for AliBob. Anyway, I had asked the Khanum about their cakes so I could try and get one for AliBob, but I had no idea how to get to that bakery and I don’t have a car either.)

What makes this surprise cake visit even more touching is that here in Iran, they don’t really celebrate birthdays for adults, just for children, and they don’t do cakes for birthdays that commonly either. Also, Dr. Elahi has a very very long day tomorrow, from 6am until late late at night, and he had just come home from Mofid at 10:00 tonight, and they came straight to our place with the cake.
So here we are, cutting cake and making merry:

Here is the cake, in all her chocolatey and creamy goodness:

Today was a good day, then.

Lunch at the Mirmoosavi's

2005-12-15T16:52:00.000+03:30

Today, we went to Dr. Mirmoosavi and Ms. N’s house for lunch. We took some hazelnut toffee that looked good in its packaging and went on over. The lunch was delicious (what is it with all these Iranians who are amazing cooks??). We had chicken and rice and salad and potatoes and a sour pickle (like picked vegetables?) called “torshi”. We also had non-alcoholic beer, which I’ve seen quite a bit in the markets here.

Not a fan of even the smell of beer, I’ve never had the inclination to try non-alcoholic beer either. I tried one and it was pretty good, citrusy. Turns out it was the lemon-flavored one. I had the malt-flavored one and couldn’t get past the first sip, so I let AliBob finish it for me. He thought it was weak.

Dr. Mirmoosavi (ayatollah garb alert!) is the head of the political science department at Mofid and he and Ms. N will be going away for a month for Hajj (Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca). He changed out of his ayatollah garb and just wore a regular pant-shirt outfit when we were there. He’s as great as his wife and we had a fun time chatting and looking at photos of him when he went to London for 2 months to study English with some other Mofid faculty members.

They had a woman teacher named Lucy. It was odd enough for them to be instructed by a woman, since things are gender segregated here. He said she was very nice and a very good teacher and once, when they were taking a photo of the class and Lucy together, another more conservative faculty member asked her to please cover up for the photo.

Apparently, he asked very nicely as it would be difficult to develop or show the photos to people if she stayed in the sleeveless top she was wearing. Lucy was a great sport about it and was more than happy to go put on a cardigan over her shirt.

There was even a picture of the inside of a pub, with people drinking and happy-hour-ing. The pictures reminded me of us Pakistanis, or international students, when they go to a foreign place and take pictures and are smiling and having a grand old time but they still look out of place.

Like one time shortly after I moved to the US, a bunch of my family was together during summer and we decided to go for a picnic for 4th of July. So we got there and many of us were wearing Pakistani clothing and we had strong smelling Pakistani food and we spoke in an Urdu-English hybrid and at sunset, we all got up for prayer and had everything cleaned up and done in time to enjoy the fireworks (which we LOVED).

And it all seemed so weird to the white people around us with their shorts and baseballs and barbecued pork ribs and beer cans, but many of them also smiled and raised their beer cans to us, probably proud and happy that even we came out to celebrate Independence day (although honestly, we were there mostly for the fireworks). And in some ways, it was weird to me too, that we were doing this, but in a good way. It’s things like that that make America great, I suppose.
Anyway. Sorry, I was off reminiscing again. So we had a good time, and we stayed for a few hours and had fruit and tea and then Dr. MirMoosavi changed back into his ayatollah garb because he had to go to a thesis defense and we left.

White Man's B-day (yes, we mean Shamlan)

2005-12-13T16:45:00.000+03:30

Happy Birthday to my biggest and bestest and Ali's little and bestest brother Shamlan!! I called him today and that was the highlight of my day. I think we talked for almost 40 minutes. It was good, but not enough because back in VA, Shamlan and I talked on the phone everyday, several times a day (he’d get bored at work and then call me up and pester me... I know, he needs to get a life. :) )

He is 29 today. I looked for cards in English to mail to him, but I didn't find any. Apparently, I also didn't look hard enough.

Great White (my brother’s nickname, among others, for AliBob) talked to him too for a little bit. They had a ‘white-to-white connection’, another term coined by my brother. And yes, the inside jokes really are as silly as they sound, but we all get a kick out of it anyway.

Anyway, I should take this time to say that my brother really is awesome. He gave me an ipod mini for my last birthday and, not having ever thought of buying one, I now wonder how I got along without it. Seriously, it makes me *want* to do housework. I have spent hours just going from one chore to the next and enjoying myself the whole time. In fact, when AliBob wasn't around and I couldn't get online, it was my other whitey (the mini) that got me through a long, lonely, boring and internetless day full of crappy chores.

The moral of this story is: give your little sisters material gifts, such as expensive electronic devices, and they'll write you lame odes.

But really, for example even in high school, when I had to be driven all over Virginia for college interviews, it was my brother who would leave work early for me and drive me there through rush hour traffic and wait for me in the car for an hour or two while I did my thing and would drive me back.

Years later, one weeknight when we were in Charlottesville, we realized at 7 or 8 pm that AliBob needed a tie for some interview (and had left some stuff at my parents' place) and so my brother actually drove down (it's a 2 hour drive each way) from Northern VA to bring all available ties so AliBob could pick a tie and be set, and then he turned around and drove right back home and went to work the next day.

He is his parents' son. My parents have done weird and extreme things like that for us too, so I guess I know where he gets it.

He's also ready to give me his credit card at the slightest hint of my desire to buy something. And he takes us out to the coolest places for dinner. He makes awesome fried eggs, brit/paki style french toast and doodh patti (a milky tea drink). That's all he makes. Oh, and toast too.

He's also been one of my biggest fans and supporters and he's also brutally honest with me when I least want to hear it. He also worries like a mom. Really, he freaks out. Haha.

He also makes really lame jokes that still manage to make us laugh... but is it out of pity? Oh, and he lets the entire family (extended included) make fun of him to no end and just laughs along with the rest of us. We can be quite cruel.

He speaks awesome Spanish, and when he doesn't know something, he still speaks it anyway like it's correct and doesn't care if he makes mistakes.

He and I gang up on our little sister Ayesha and tease her in Spanish because she doesn't speak it. They're sports aficionados and watch sports together and gang up on me and make fun of me for my nerdy bookish ways and for my love of libraries (what's wrong with loving libraries, I ask you??). I'll watch sports games but I'll always bring a book, which I end up reading instead. My sister and I gang up and use our girl power to provoke his delicate temper and then laugh at him for losing it.

AliBob is a mercenary and takes sides as he sees fit and laughs at us for being such idiots. They always side with him against me and it's never a fair fight.

I miss my family.

~Sara

Rapunzel Rapunzel let down your, wait, where's the hair?

2005-12-12T15:54:00.000+03:30

Got a haircut! It wasn’t what I wanted, despite trying my best to either ask them just for a straight trim (they insisted I do something different) or then trying to explain the simple style I wanted. I wanted to keep my hair long because I’ve been trying to grow it out forever (at least since this past January) so I can chop it all off later and donate it. I need 10-12 inches and my hair just doesn’t grow quickly.

I tried insisting on a trim, but then finally just pointed at a picture (surely it was a magazine pic right out of the 80's) and said I wanted angles in the front and layers in the back. But LONG. Please cut no more than a centimeter or two off of most of my hair and maybe just angles in front (like the picture). My neighbor translated, they had a picture to look at.

Then the main lady (I'll tell you about her in a bit) came, grabbed the front of my hair, and lopped off most of my hair. I thought okay, maybe this will be the bangs and she'll leave the rest of my hair intact. As she worked around my head, she basically cut 6 inches off of everywhere, except one rat tail type thing in the back. So basically, I have a mullet. As AliBob describes it, business in the front and party in the back.

At first I was in shock after seeing all that hair fall into my lap and on the floor and I tried not to cry. I told them I liked it and thank you but maybe my shock was clear on my face, because the lady then pointed to a tiny section of cut hair on the floor (which was, indeed, only a centimeter or so long) and said "see? I didn't cut more than you wanted". I just nodded wondering how stupid she thought I was. Is that supposed to make me feel better? When all the rest of my hair is gone? Or maybe she really did think that's what I wanted and was just exercising creative license.

Anyway, as I sat later on and waited for her to finish with Ms. N, I actually realized I really liked the cut and feel. It’s much shorter than I’ve had in a while (last time it was short was when I cut off my own hair up to my ears, with the help of my dear sister, 4 years ago, and then again 3 years ago). So I suppose the cut's growing on me, just not literally.

The parlor was deep underground and all the ladies were dressed as modernly as any American girl, with tight clothing and stylish hair and makeup. We waited for the main lady who runs the place to arrive. The girls prepared me for her by prewetting and precombing my hair in the desired way ready for cutting and they continued to wet it until she got to the parlor 15 minutes later.

She spent less than 5 minutes on my hair, razored and trimmed it quickly, and handed the scissors to another girl and walked away. They hurriedly finished me off.

When she began working on another lady’s eyebrows, she simply plucked enough to shape them properly for a minute or two, and handed the tweezers off to someone else and left the rest of the residual plucking and threading to her minions.

She then sat down and started chatting away and when the phone rang, even though she was the only person without a customer, she did not answer it and eventually, one of the other girls had to leave her customer and go answer the phone.

Ah to be a person of power in these places. I wasn’t allowed to take a picture of the salon (I really wanted to get the magazine pics they have up) because of her brother owning the place or something. She wasn’t sure if he would approve, although I had fully intended, on my part, to exclude any ladies from the picture to be on the safe side. According to Ms. N (who didn’t get the prohibition either), the lady in charge didn’t care so much about the ladies covering up part, it really was just the fact that her brother might have a problem with it. Whatever. Their loss. When this blog is famous (hah!), they’ll just lose publicity. :)

Anyway, on the walk home after the taxi dropped us off, I took a picture of the little garden areas in our neighborhood. This first one is at the intersection of our street and the main street. It was really bright out so everything seems overexposed (fine, it could be my less than fantastic photography skills):

This next one is of the view of the long road (Khiyabaan-e-Mutaharri) that leads us to the university apartments. The buildings are the last thing before the mountains, as you already know from the picture of my “backyard”.

And finally, here’s a cool little neighborhood park that’s just to the left side of the previous picture. Notice the mountains in the back. What never ceases to amaze me is that Qom is still a desert and this all this greenery is cultivated here. This is probably normal to people living in similar climes but it still always gets me.

Qur'anic Fair

2005-12-11T21:32:00.000+03:30

Grammar class wasn’t so great, as usual. People still have varying levels of skill. And teaching adults is definitely not the same as teaching kids, and yet I do have 3 kids in the class. Should I go slower? Faster? Follow the book only and not try and help with supplementary information?

Anyway, after the class, Dr. and Mrs. Elahi took us to a Quran Fair. It was great. 28 countries (16 Muslim countries, 12 Non-Muslim countries) had participated, including some joint efforts like between the UAE and Germany. We got to see a genuine copy (that term always cracks me up) from Turkey of Prophet Muhammad’s seal. The original is in a museum in Turkey. There was hand etched glass in the form of vases and bowls and paperweights and prisms and even a glass hand etched Quran sitting open in its stand.

I tried taking some pictures but too much glass and plastic cause glare and reflection.

Irfan Ali was a hit there and people, once again, were straining their necks to get a look at him. Giggling ladies and curious old women and men. The guy in charge of the fair (dressed in the ayatollah garb) gave us a personal tour of the main exhibition and we had someone talking to us and explaining each artifact to us. The artisanship there was just amazing.

We got there at around 8pm, and the exhibit was closing at 9, so he told us at around 8:40 to go upstairs and check out the stalls there because there was good stuff there too. We first stopped at a carpet stall and finally got our first glimpse of a Qomi silk carpet. I must say, it is quite gorgeous, incredibly soft, and somewhat different than the Persian carpets we’re used to seeing. It was also smaller and these tend to be for wall hanging, not for floor covering. It cost 350,000 Toman, which is 3.5 million Iranian Rials, which is about $350, which isn’t bad at all.

Again, I wasn’t able to get a good picture. The stalls weren’t too well lit.

We went upstairs and the art there was more Ahlul Bayt (Shia) devotional work than the mainstream Allah/Mohammad/Quranic stuff downstairs. There were also quite a bit of Iranian cultural handicrafts. Both were amazing. Beautiful scenes recreating Kerbala and Ashura were painted on velvet or inlaid in wood or cut out and formed into dioramas, and there were also wood carvers (mostly women artisans, which was very good to see), and there was one calligraphy stall where the girl did stunning work and she wrote our names for us. The director of the fair also gifted us (mostly gifted Ali) with a really cool coffee table book with pictures and elevations of all the mosques in Iran, which is definitely an awesome souvenir. It’ll have to be mailed back because it’s heavy.

Then in another stall, the Mrs. Mir Mohammadi (who came with us to the fair and is in my grammar class) told the lady to make me something quickly. Since the stalls were mostly closing down, the vendor quickly found a heart-shaped wood cutout and found a cutout of “Muhammad” in a darker wood and glued it onto the heart. I’m most excited with my keepsakes.

(Mrs. Mir Mohammadi, Sara, Mrs. Elahi)

As we walked on, we realized we were the only ones left there and turns out that for their special American studying Islam in Qom, they had kept the building open for us. *Very* cool. Definitely don’t see that happening in the US for anyone. Because we are guests, we are treated with so much deference and honor. Well… Ali is the honored guest, and I’m his Pakistani wife. Pakistanis aren’t unusual here. Haha.. I think my secret (I’m not Shia!) is out, but no one has really changed their behavior toward me, which makes me feel even worse about the way Sunnis talk about Shias.

After we were done with our tour, with our tiny entourage of security and admin people following us, they asked us to write a remembrance on some paper. I wrote in decent handwriting and Ali wrote in chicken scratch. Muahaha. Except he kept his writing straight, and mine was all sloping uphill and downhill. I never quite mastered that whole writing straight without lines thing.

Then we went downstairs and waited for the Director of the Fair to finish his speech or lecture to all the vendors and stall people in the fair, and we met the PR head for the Fair. We relaxed and took a few pictures and then some news agency people came to interview Irfan Ali. There was a camera and a tape recorder and everything. In fact, there were 3 cameras. Two personal digital cameras and one big video camera.

So with Dr. Elahi as translator, the reporter asked Irfan Ali questions on his opinion of the fair, Iran and Iranians, Islam in America, Iranians in America, doing da’wah (proselytizing) in America. For a few of them, I felt the need (as usual) to butt in and put in my 2 cents but I felt kind of embarrassed because the interview is for Irfan Ali. But then when I stopped interjecting, he would ask me my opinion and then I would have no idea what to say.

I must say I learned something new about Dr. Elahi last night. The man has a photographic memory. He would memorize our answers in English, and then almost verbatim repeat them to the reporter. Keep in mind, our responses were quite wordy. I know I don’t understand Farsi, but I could tell by the words that I did get and the order in which they came that he really was relaying everything. Irfan Ali confirmed my suspicion. *Very* impressive. We really got lucky with Dr. Elahi and his “Elahi’s Army”.

Here we are with the reporter/interviewer (right of us) and videographers:

We got home at 11:15pm and were hungry for dinner. We’d already had dinner at 5:45 though and there was nothing else to eat. I’m still working on that whole cooking lots of stuff and having lots of leftovers thing.

~Sara

Hanging with Ms. Nouri

2005-12-10T16:25:00.000+03:30

Ali woke up early (6 or 7 something??) this morning to go change more money. I was supposed to go with him, but it was just too windy and chilly and ‘morningy’ for me. He is my hero. We had breakfast together and I went back to bed. No haircut for me because of Ms. N’s schedule. She asked me to come over anyway. I’m not sure if all these visits to her place are actual conversation sessions or social visits. I feel bad going over there so much, especially since she feeds me every time I go over but declined food/drink offers when she came over here for conversation sessions.

I asked about salons and what to do for our hair, which has been shedding horribly since we got here. I also have developed a nasty dandruff problem and am desperate to resolve this soon. She said it’s the water of Qom that’s very bad for hair. Is that why I’m going gray and balding and dandruffing??

Anyway she insisted I take this L’Oreal conditioner she has but doesn’t use and try it. I don’t know how I feel about having people give me their stuff just because I mentioned I have an issue. If I ask “where do I buy x” or “what do I do about y” or “do you (Iranians in general) have z”, it doesn’t mean I want them to get it for me or give me their stuff. Does it sound like I’m making a request of them? I hope not.

I don’t know what to do with all this generosity. We haven’t had people over yet, and even if we did, how would I honor them with a fantastically honorific meal? I couldn’t. I would give them starchy, clumpy, stuck together yet still raw on the inside rice and a reasonably decent veggie dish. I think not serving/having meat here is considered stingy, according to our guidebook. I only have Robert to thank for not ever wanting or allowing meat or fish or any derivative thereof into the house for me to practice cooking it. Yes, it’s easier to just blame him at the moment.

I had my conversation course, which went fine, I suppose. I took some American money to show them. They think Iranian money is prettier, and they’re probably right about that. I went in ready to talk about our cultures (which is what we decided last time) but apparently no one was prepared, so I talked about American culture. Random things, really… and we also talked about the civil war and Abraham Lincoln. But my dates are quite awful and my American geography is horrid, so it was quite pathetic, me trying to teach them American history and geography. All I know is that Thomas Jefferson was the 2nd(?) president, and the emancipation proclamation was signed in 1864 and I think the civil war ended in 1865. I don’t remember when it started. Oh… and Abraham Lincoln was the 16th president. I tried to explain a little about the raw materials and slaves in the south vs. the industry and money in the north, but who knows how much made sense.

Then, I made sure to tune in to that Pakistani cooking show I’ve been catching glimpses of the past few Saturdays. I usually catch the last 10 minutes. This time the guest made some kind of chicken dish. I couldn’t read the Urdu because the graphics were too blurry. Murgh something.
We had daal (a staple in our diets) and channa masala. This channa masala was different than the last time I made it. I think it was better.

Why one should pay attention in history class

2005-12-10T14:45:00.000+03:30

Ali woke up early (6 or 7 something??) this morning to go change more money. I was supposed to go with him, but it was just too windy and chilly and ‘morningy’ for me. He is my hero. We had breakfast together and I went back to bed. No haircut for me because of Ms. N’s schedule. She asked me to come over anyway. I’m not sure if all these visits to her place are actual conversation sessions or social visits. I feel bad going over there so much, especially since she feeds me every time I go over but declined food/drink offers when she came over here for conversation sessions.

I asked about salons and what to do for our hair, which has been shedding horribly since we got here. I'm desperate to resolve this soon. She said it’s the water of Qom that’s very bad for hair. Is that why I’m going gray and balding and dandruffing??

Anyway she insisted I take this L’Oreal conditioner she has but doesn’t use and try it. I don’t know how I feel about having people give me their stuff just because I mentioned I have an issue. If I ask “where do I buy x” or “what do I do about y” or “do you (Iranians in general) have z”, it doesn’t mean I want them to get it for me or give me their stuff. Does it sound like I’m making a request of them? I hope not.

I don’t know what to do with all this generosity. We haven’t had people over yet, and even if we did, how would I honor them with a fantastically honorific meal? I couldn’t. I would give them starchy, clumpy, stuck together yet still raw on the inside rice and a reasonably decent veggie dish. I think not serving/having meat here is considered stingy, according to our guidebook. I only have Robert to thank for not ever wanting or allowing meat or fish or any derivative thereof into the house for me to practice cooking it. Yes, it’s easier to just blame him at the moment than to admit that even if I'd been cooking meat all along, I'd still be a pathetic cook.

I had my conversation course, which went fine, I suppose. I took some American money to show them. They think Iranian money is prettier (more colorful, flowers and birds in the designs), and they’re probably right about that. I went in ready to talk about our cultures (which is what we decided last time) but apparently no one was prepared, so I talked about American culture. Random things, really… and we also talked about the civil war and Abraham Lincoln. But my dates are quite awful and my American geography is horrid, so it was quite pathetic, me trying to teach them American history and geography. All (I think) I know is that Thomas Jefferson was the 2nd(?) president, and the emancipation proclamation was signed in 1864 and I think the civil war ended in 1865, right? I don’t remember when it started. Oh… and Abraham Lincoln was the 16th president. I tried to explain a little about the raw materials and slaves in the south vs. the industry and money in the north, but who knows how much made sense... which is probably better since it was probably all wrong.

Then, back home, I made sure to tune in to that Pakistani cooking show I’ve been catching glimpses of the past few Saturdays. I usually catch the last 10 minutes. This time the guest made some kind of chicken dish. I couldn’t read the Urdu because the graphics were too blurry. Murgh something.
We had daal (a staple in our diets) and channa masala. This channa masala was different than the last time I made it. I think it was better.

Can you believe it? I'm tuning into cooking shows not just for the entertainment (come on, you know you love Food Network) but to actually try and learn something. Scary.

Field Day

2005-12-09T16:13:00.000+03:30

Our day off!! It looks like no fesenjan lessons today because the Khanum is busy preparing a speech. Which is just as well, really, since there is a lot to be done around the house and Ali and I both feel like bumming together. I haven’t seen enough of him this past week because of days at the office and evenings at Dr. Sachedina’s lectures.

We tried out our new washing machine. It was a battle of brains, but Ali prevailed, with no help from our manual that’s all in Farsi. Her maiden voyage went quite well and we learned that the cotton cycle is 2 hours long. The synthetics cycle is 45 minutes long. But it did a good job, and the spin is excellent for getting most of the moisture out. I have decided that an automatic washer is a must have. I’m not crazy about the detergent scent but I’ll deal. Clean is good. Here is Ali hard at work staring the machine down and showing it who’s master:

I also very excitedly cleaned the kitchen floor. Ali swept with the sorry excuse for the broom, and then I made a bleach/water mix and dumped it all over the floor. I squeegeed it all toward the drain in the middle of the floor. I did this 4 or 5 times until the water on the floor wasn’t too visibly disgusting anymore and then did a final dry mop on it. I’m pleased to announce that it’s gleaming. See Ali sweep:

I cooked daal and the last of my veggies because we’re out of vegetables and money. I tried to be creative with the vegetables and cooked something I remember loving in Pakistan. I don’t know how close this was to the original, but it ended up tasting pretty darn good. It’s amazing how willing you become to eat (and even enjoy!) your own hand-cooked food when there’s no other choice. I’m glad I overcame that hump.

It was a potato, carrot and tomato curry. I tossed in onion seed and cumin and sautéed those with onions. The carrots ended up being not completely soft at the end of it, but I actually didn’t mind that. Neither did Ali.

We’ve gotten hooked on having fresh fruit after dinner. We had pomegranate and “yaffa”, which is like a clementine, but smaller. Then we snacked on roasted peanuts.

Ali also cleaned out the shower room, which was even more disgusting than the kitchen. There were what looked like bird droppings on the door and walls and it always smells of sewage but that’s just because of the years of ick down in the drain where he can’t reach it. He still did reach in as far as he could and cleaned it out. If I write more on the whole drain thing I’m likely to throw up on the computer and short it out, so in conclusion, after an hour of cleaning, the walls and floor were sparkling clean.

Sara Goes Shopping

2005-12-08T22:12:00.000+03:30

Went shopping with the Khanum (Elahi) to get house stuff (squeegee, mop, toilet bowl cleaner, grater, mixing bowls, clothespins, food storage containers, clothesline, hamper, hangers, serving spoon for rice, cooking spoons-- because so far I’ve been doing all my cooking with silverware-- chopping board et. al.). It’s quite interesting. It’s a big place (warehouse-y looking) with different “rooms” or areas, distinguished by counters behind which men stand and take orders for what people want. There are no lines, so everyone crowds around said counters calling to him and waving their list in the air until he notices them and takes the list to make a receipt.

There is a lot of waiting involved, and also a good amount of shoving and pushing, despite the ubiquitous “bebakhsheed” (excuse me), which is the uber-polite utterance used for everything (if I step in front of you and you have to see my back, bebakhsheed; if I need your attention, bebakhsheed; if I am leaving your store/house/presence, bebakhsheed). Annoying. If you must shove and push and poke and prod, don’t bother saying anything at all. Apparently Islam and the etiquettes for the good character it tries to impart don’t apply in stores (neither the customers nor the vendors are all that polite), traffic or when there are young women walking around alone who would rather not be gawked at, kissy-faced at, honked at, or chatted up.
Anyway, once the man behind the counter writes out your receipt, you take it back to a central hub of cash registers where they put it into the computer and you pay. They pop out a printed receipt and stamp it and hand it to you to take back to the man at the counter (more waiting) and he gets you the stuff. You do this for all the different “rooms”. So we did one for the plastics, one for pots/pans/silverware, one for fabric (I got my chador fabric today!!), and one for soap/detergent/shampoo/lotion. My total including chador and home goods was USD 33. 327,400 Iranian Rials. Ouch. That cleaned us out. My chador fabric was USD12. I think.

Anyway, we decided we would leave all the house stuff with them and go get food before they closed for the noon prayer (Dhuhr)

Downstairs is the food market, but mostly for prepackaged stuff like cheese, jam, bottled stuff, snacks. I didn’t see any produce, but at the end of the room there are ‘fresh’ fish, chickens and eggs. They were out of chickens. The fish are a little smelly and glassy eyed. I can’t remember how to look for fresh fish, but I don’t know if I would get the ones there. Mostly because I have no idea how to gut it, de-spine it, de-scale it etc., despite having watched a BBC show on it. I think I was more entertained than educated. But anyway, if the Khanum is getting it there, maybe it’s good fish. She knows her stuff.

We came back up just as things were settling out and people clearing out and I waited with our foodstuffs while she went and picked up the plastics. It ended up taking forever because they lost the receipt. Apparently they looked and looked, and finally went to their computers and looked it up and got her the stuff. I felt bad because it was our stuff.

We left and went looking for a store that would have wooden spoons for my Teflon pot and pan. That wasn’t fruitful, so we kept going and she showed me where her law office will be. Very cool! It’s not big, but it’s nice and in a fantastic location. We also picked up some yogurt from the yogurt/milk/butter store. That’s all they sell. Yogurt, milk and butter. They were out of milk. That’s the other weird thing, being out of something basic like milk or meat before lunch.

When we got home, she realized they hadn’t given her my bag with the grater, silverware and mixing bowls from the pots/pans room. So we decided we’d go back at 4pm. When we went back, it was all still closed and she realized then that it was Thursday and on Thursdays after the noon prayer, most of the stores are closed through the weekend and reopen on Saturday. Bummer. On the upside, she did send over a pair of her potholders that her mom (who lives in Kerman) made.

Traffic was awful (we spent 10 minutes stuck at one roundabout because the lights weren’t working). We went to the bazaar near the Holy Shrine to get a pot and 2 wooden cooking spoons. We also bought a whole chicken for her to teach me how to cook fesenjan. I ran out of Iranian currency. Then we went to the vegetable market.
.
We still need a vacuum cleaner that works, drinking glasses (we have 3 right now, which is fine for us but not if we end up having people over), and rags and sponges for random cleaning jobs.

What was fun at the market was seeing people from all over. I saw some *very* East Asian looking people. Not even Tajik with some Asiatic features, but completely totally Chinese. (They looked more Chinese to me than Japanese or Korean or Southeast Asian.) What’s funny is that they may still be Iranians (I think because they spoke Farsi) from the north (where Mongols invaded, I think?). The lady was in her chador and the man was actually a cleric. That was very cool, seeing a Mongol-featured man wearing the “ayatollah” garb. Who knows, it could always be people from other countries who came here to do traditional studies and became clerics.

I also saw one black woman. She was definitely of African descent. She was tall and stood out in the crowd despite her chador. I know AliBob saw lots of Asian and Black men at the Imam Khomeini Institute where he went for that first lecture on cloning, but I hadn’t really seen much of anything until today.

I also actually saw several women in burqah (where the face is covered and you only see their eyes), which is less common among Iranian women. Pakistani/Indian maybe? Or Arab.

I also saw the 3rd ranking official of the Iranian government, Ayatollah something-or-other (can’t remember). He’s the head of the judicial system of Iran. Actually, I lie; I saw his caravan of tinted Mercedes Benz escorts and Mercedes Benz police cars. He comes to Qom on the weekends from Tehran to answer people’s gripes and grievances.

What a busy and eventful and mostly productive day.
Oh! And the Khanum said that Fatemeh had gone home last night and raved about Sara Khanum’s most delicious lentils and eggplants. Score!

Intro/Ode

2005-12-08T10:57:00.000+03:30

Hello All--I'm putting up Sara's ruminations, since I don't think she's had time to do so thus far. If there are any problems, I'm sure I'll hear about it and then will fix them up. In the meantime, accept the following as the gospel truth...Bob-Ali

INTRO:
Qom is a city about 2 hours’ drive south of Tehran in central Iran. Its population is approximately 800,000 and it’s known for being a center of religious learning and having the shrine of Hazrat Masoumeh (Innocent) Fatimah, the sister of Shiite Islam’s 8th Imam, Imam Reza. She was on her way to see her brother, who was held captive in Mashhad, but she became ill and died here in Qom. He died in Mashhad. It’s all very depressing. But it did give Qom importance as a shrine city. The shrine itself is in the city center, which is where all the cool bazaars with vaulted barrel ceilings are too.

Qom is also known in all of Iran for its gorgeous silk carpets that are actually meant to be wall hangings, not floor coverings. They’re smaller in size than a traditional 9x12 or 8x10 carpet, and are handmade. They’re extremely expensive.

Qom is also known for its two large salt lakes. The water here is quite brackish and though safe to drink, too salty to be drunk (unless you like the taste of it, I suppose). So, the tap water is used for washing and bathing, but big plastic jugs of water are used for drinking and cooking.

Interestingly enough, unlike other Asian/Middle Eastern cultures, Iranians tend to be punctual (give or take a few minutes, based on my experience thus far).

Ode to My Parents:
Everyone hears me whining about getting in trouble with my parents about something or other, but now I must give credit where credit is due. I have to ‘standingly ovate’ (why does that sound so dirty?) my parents for the amazing job they did in all the different countries we lived in. I never felt a break in the continuity of my home life. All the foods I’d grown up with accompanied us everywhere. I don’t know how hard it was to come by spices or whatever else my mom needed to recreate a little Pakistan in our home, but she and my dad did it repeatedly. I know how hard it was to find halal meat, so they would go scope out farms and find good healthy animals and my dad would go out to inspect them in person (sometimes it was *quite* a long drive to get from the city to wherever the cows and chickens were) and then he would slaughter them himself.

I know in Colombia, we were thousands of feet above sea level and that affects cooking times. Maybe my mom struggled with getting it all right, but when the food was at the table, it was perfect. And it happened every single night, 7 days a week.

We all know parents do for their kids. I know mine did for my siblings and me. But with every new experience, I realize just how much they did. How many sacrifices they made (never in my life have I had a babysitter, which means my parents were skipping out on a lot of socials and parties to be with us) and how hard they worked to make things right for us.

And they did right up until the end. My mom helped me pack and sort because I was being a slacker scatterbrain. AliBobert is a grown up so he did his own packing. The day before we left, one of our suitcases broke as we tried to weight it. When we tried lifting it a different way, something else broke. We were almost all packed in all 4 suitcases and didn’t want this happening again, so my parents ran out right then while we continued packing and sorting and bought us 4 brand new fantastic suitcases within the hour. My mom made and fried me my favorite rolls to take on the trip and my dad gave us extra wads of cash (in addition to the cash the day before, and the checks before that) for this that and the other incidentals on our trip. He also gave us what British pounds he could find so we wouldn’t have to worry about changing right away during our 11 hour layover in London. Anyway, there are so many other little things that they did for us that we can probably never recall, and much of which we may not even realize.

I know I’m starting to sound gooey, but we both owe my parents so much. All we have to give is our thanks and our love. So we thank you and we love you.

Let Them Eat Khana

2005-12-07T21:09:00.000+03:30

I went to Ms. N’s house and we went for a walk to the University and back while we conversed. Her son had made me a drawing and she gave me his old Farsi book from level 1 (beginner’s Farsi). After that, I had my English conversation class tonight. It was interesting and not quite structured, and I seemed to do most of the talking because they wanted to know all about me and my life and America/Pakistan/South America. I hope I can get them to talk more themselves.

Fatemeh came over and helped me with some Persian out of the children’s book Ms. N gave me, and we worked on an article she had for school.

Irfan Ali went to Dr. Sachedina’s 3rd lecture on with Dr. Elahi and he said he understood a good amount of it, which is fantastic. Dr. Sachedina speaks Persian fluently and flawlessly, as he does most things, but since he enunciates well, it is easier to understand what he is saying.

I worked up the courage to have Fatemeh try some food I had cooked earlier today. I made khatti daal as usual (lentils with lemon juice and tamarind), which happened to turn out quite well, and I also made my version of baigan ka bhurta (a mashed eggplant curry type dish) because well, I just couldn’t remember how it’s really made. The bhurta actually tasted pretty good too, so that was pleasing.
Oh, and I had some leftover eggplant from the time I made my eggplant and potato curry (it was a different kind of eggplant) and so I had roasted that half on the stove and cut it into slices and salted it and then I breaded it in the breadcrumbs I made. I just spiced the breadcrumbs and they were ready to go! They ended up tasting pretty good too, especially for my first time ever. AliBob really loved them. Yay.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have any pans left to heat the food up in and so I gave it to her cold. She wanted to just taste it. She ended up really liking it, even cold, so that was a nice feeling. She said if your food is this good, I’m very enthusiastic to try your mother’s food. As well she should be. I am enthusiastic too. Just 6 more months.

Plane Crash

2005-12-06T23:28:00.000+03:30

Hi All,

Yes, there was a big plane crash in Tehran, and yes, we are ok. We were actually a bit worried because Ali's advisor, Dr. Sachedina is giving a series of lectures in Qom this week and his family were due to fly out of Tehran today. As far as we know though the casualities were limited to the military jet (though with about 70 journalists aboard) and the residents of the apartment that the plane hit.

Best,

Ali-Bob/Sara

http://www.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/meast/12/06/tehran.crash/index.html

110 killed in Iran plane crash

Tuesday, December 6, 2005; Posted: 12:59 p.m. EST (17:59 GMT)

TEHRAN, Iran (CNN) -- An Iranian military transport plane has crashed near Tehran after hitting a 10-story apartment building, killing at least 110 people -- most of them aboard the plane -- Iranian officials and state-run media reported.

The air force C-130 -- carrying more than 90 people -- crashed at about 2 p.m. (1030 GMT) on Tuesday, sparking fires in the apartment building that houses military personnel and their families.

Everyone on board the plane was killed, including 47 journalists who planned to witness the Iranian navy's maneuvers in the Persian Gulf, officials said.

A health ministry spokesman said 110 bodies had been taken to hospitals near the crash site in the town of Towid, south of the capital.

"Both the main and reserve fuel tanks were full which is why the plane went up in flames as soon as it hit the building," Ahmad Ziaie, the head of Iran's fire brigade told state television, Reuters reported.

The building that was hit and others around it were immediately evacuated after the crash.
An Interior Ministry spokesman told Reuters that several people had been killed on the ground. The spokesman added that many of them had been in their cars at the time of the crash.
The plane was heading for the port city of Bandar Abbas in southern Iran when the pilot reported technical difficulties and was returning to base, according to Abdul Rahimi with Iran's civil aviation authority.

It crashed near Tehran's Mehrabad International Airport, which handles domestic, international and military flights.

The plane struck the building as it went down, Iran's Islamic Republic News Agency (IRNA) reported. A short time later, an explosion went off on the fourth floor of the building, which had filled with gas.

Video from the scene showed emergency personnel rushing towards the building which had smoke and flames pouring from its windows.

"I can see flames licking out of the windows of the fourth floor of the building," said a Reuters journalist at the scene.

Shahram Alamdari, a Red Crescent official, told Reuters by telephone from the scene: "It is awful down here. I am suffocating."

In Iran's last major military air disaster, an Iranian Ilyushin-76 troop carrier crashed in the southeast of the country on February 19, 2003, killing all 276 Revolutionary Guard soldiers and crew aboard.

Shame

2005-12-05T16:35:00.000+03:30

Hi All,

If you haven't had a chance to browse the links to the right yet, you may have missed my friend Brian's great blog "In The Axis", where he reflects on life in Syria.

He had a great post a few weeks back about a Syrian journalist's rather miserable trip to the US, courtesy of the State Department. I am posting the entry in its entirety as it gives a glimpse of the sort of fundamental lack of finesse or even understanding our government exhibits about the rest of the world.

XO,
Alibob

http://www.readingeagle.com/blog/syria/archives/2005/11/shame.html

Shame

I met my former student, Siham, over coffee the other day, so eager to hear what she thought about her journeys through my homeland. She had just been to the US on a State Department program to bring Arab journalists around for a tour of our country. Along with a dozen or so other journalists from a host of Middle Eastern countries, she had the chance to visit Washington, DC, Baltimore, Jacksonville, Seattle, and Houston.

While she was attending my classes in English journalism, she often talked about her hopes for getting accepted into the program. She had to apply with the US Embassy in Damascus, go for a series of interviews, and then work through the visa process. I encouraged her at every step. "It's gonna be wonderful!" I assured her. "You'll get a different perspective of the US. You'll love it so much, see some of the great things about America." I am always telling my students that there is much more to America than superficial pop culture. Siham bubbled with anticipation, and said how much she wanted to meet real Americans, rather than the stereotypical rich blond-haired blue-eyed uebermenschen that are standard TV and film fare in the rest of the world. In addition to her professional mission, she was particularly thrilled about the shopping prospects.

Siham was still upbeat in the first days of her trip. She phoned me at my parents' home in Wyomissing while I was on vacation. But that mood has since evaporated. "I don't want to disappoint you," she said gazing down into her cup of Nescafe, "but it was awful." The State Department scheduled a set program of tours and talks with key government people and business leaders. "We were lectured everywhere we went. I mean, they talked down to us like we were little children, like we were born yesterday or something." She said that the purport of most of the talks was a glossy-eyed missionary-style tour through the most hated features of American foreign policy. "They didn't know anything about us or about where we came from. And they didn't care." The 'terrorism' label was applied generously to the region, in a move clearly aimed at making friends and influencing people. The dialogue, she observed bitterly, was a one-way conversation.

Siham said that the officials were quick to point out the miniscule sums the US spends to take care of refugees and to promote democracy in the region, while ignoring the vastly larger amount spent to promote conflict and violence, in the Occupied Territories and Iraq for instance. Every month in Iraq alone, the US spends about one-third of the entire Syrian GDP. "This is our life; we know this," she pleaded. Syrians live side by side with over 2 million Palestinian refugees, a by-product of America's multi-billion dollar annual support of Israel. They have also opened their doors to several hundred thousand refugees from America's Iraq misadventure. These policies do not have anything like a positive impact on the lives of Syrians, and nor do the threats of sanctions and even war against their country. "They couldn't understand why our mouths didn't fall open in amazement," she commented dryly.

Siham complained that the US Embassy in Damascus has phoned her several times to ask why she has not published any articles praising America since she came back. I advised her to publish copiously, to tell exactly what happened, just to dispel the delusions on both sides.
The whole program seemed hinged on a flawed and widespread myth: that the people of the Middle East simply don't know what happens outside their countries. They are kept in the dark by their evil and tyrannical governments about all the wonderful features of America and its policies. But the reality is that the orange trader on the donkey-cart down the street here in Damascus knows far more about American foreign policy than the average middle-class American. Arabs hate American foreign policy not because they don't understand it, rather because they understand it perfectly; they live it.

Fashion in Qom

2005-12-05T16:11:00.000+03:30

(Caption: A cleric from Qom stands with his eight-year-old son, who is wearing a cleric's robe like his father's, during their visit to Isfahan some 430km south of Tehran, August 12, 2004. REUTERS/Morteza Nikoubazl)

Salaam and Hello Everyone,

Besides Sara's fascination with chador (though she's only tried one on so far, not purchased her own), there are other fashionistas in Qom, perhaps, much to your surprise. Interesting article below.

XO,
Alibob

http://www.guardian.co.uk/iran/story/0,12858,1383478,00.html

Clerical chic

For Muslims, looking good has a religious seal of approval. And no one reflects this more than the stylish mullahs of Iran. Niloofar Haeri visits the city of Qom, home to the Muslim clergy's top tailors - and some of the best-dressed men in the Islamic world

Wednesday January 5, 2005
The Guardian

Women's dress in the Muslim world is endlessly debated and written about. But when it comes to what the men are wearing, we hear relatively little. And yet here in Iran it is clear to see that quite a few clerics are no stanger to chic. The graceful draping of good cloth, the layering of colours, the yellow slippers and silver rings with large agate stones, add up in many cases to nothing short of elegance.

Article continues

If there is one major point of agreement among clerics, it lies in the importance Islam attaches - thanks to the many stories about how well the Prophet Muhammad dressed, and his love of perfumes - to looking and smelling good. Making an effort to be well turned out is not just allowed by Islam, it is positively encouraged.

In the middle-class salons of Tehran these days, one of the lighter topics of conversation is President Khatami's wardrobe. He is seen as very elegant; in fact, a bit of a dandy. Every new outfit he dons as the seasons change unleashes a fresh round of comment about the colours, textures and shapes of the robes, high-collared shirts and mantles that he wears. After the president appeared on TV during the summer in an elegant cream-coloured robe, other prominent members of the government followed suit.

For anyone who wants to learn more about Iranian clerical fashion, the place to visit is Qom. Besides its claim to fame as the spiritual heart of the Iranian revolution (Ayatollah Khomeini chose this traditionally religious city as his residence after returning to Iran in 1979 following the fall of the shah), it also boasts the best tailors to the Muslim clergy in the country, and possibly in all the Middle East.

On a childhood trip to the city, I remember thinking that the clerics in their flowing robes and layered outfits were so much more elegant than the women hidden in black veils - the "black crows" as some Iranians still call them. In my pre-feminist, five-year-old mind, I wanted women to be the elegant ones, showing off their clothes.

Over the past 25 years the Islamic government has successfully promoted Qom as a centre of Shi'ite Muslim learning to rival Najaf and Kerbala in Iraq. Students and mullahs from Iraq, Lebanon, Syria, the Gulf, Pakistan and Afghanistan frequent its seminaries. Pilgrims from the Shi'ite diaspora in Africa, America and Europe visit the shrine.

As a result, Qom now boasts more foreign residents and tourists than Tehran. Pizzerias have sprung up all over the city, and restaurants have added Arab dishes to their fare. Hotels, hostels, travel agents and souvenir shops cater to the hordes of pilgrims, religious tourists and seminarians from overseas. You can also check your email at the many "coffee net" places around town (although none of them actually serves coffee).

Qom has changed in other ways too. Everyone in Tehran told me that in Qom I should wear the full female get-up, including the all-covering black chador. I was worried that I was not wearing socks and that my fingernails betrayed bits of nail polish I had not had a chance to wipe off. In the event I did not have to wear the chador at all (a scarf was enough), and the Qomis seemed too busy to worry about bare toes or the state of my nails.

After getting directions from a mullah crossing the street, I headed towards a "passage" (pronounced in the French way) that was one of several shopping arcades made up almost entirely of tailors' workshops specialising in clerical clothes.

On the upper floor of the arcade I found a man who specialised in various kinds of cloth imported from Thailand, India, Korea, Iraq, Italy and England. This tailor turned out to be an Iraqi, the uncle of another tailor I had spoken to briefly downstairs.

Many of the tailors in Qom, it emerged, are Iraqi Shia. This particular family of tailors, the Asgari Najafis, had been deported by Saddam Hussein about 24 years ago at the beginning of the Iran-Iraq war, along with thousands of other Iraqis of Iranian ancestry. A younger brother of the family, Ali Asgari Najafi, who had spent most of his life in Qom and spoke fluent Persian, showed me the clothes and offered to model them himself. "I am very handsome, so these clothes look really good on me," he explained with a big smile.

"The main piece of clothing, apart from the turban," said Asgari Najafi, "is the long robe. Those who want to be chic and contemporary wear the labbaadeh, but those who are more traditional and want to avoid looking wealthy or fashionable wear the qabaa. You may have noticed President Khatami always wears the labbaadeh but the Supreme Leader [Ali Khamanei] prefers the qabaa."

Both the labbaadeh and the qabaa are long and come down to the top of the slippers (this is the case for traditional clerics who do not wear trousers; for those who do, the robe comes down to the middle of the legs). But whereas the qabaa has a V-neck and one side crosses the other at the waist, the more expensive labbaadeh has a high, round collar, tighter sleeves and stiff panelling in the chest area so that it looks very tailored. Many believe that the high-collared version is directly influenced by the robes of the Orthodox and Catholic priests in Lebanon, where large Christian and Muslim communities coexist.

Both robes can have numerous inside pockets, as many as eight for pens, books, prayer beads, watches and mobile phones. A frequent sight on the streets of Qom is of mullahs reaching inside their coats for their mobiles as they ring in various global tones. Many mullahs come for several fittings and can be quite picky, says Asgari Najafi: "The Lebanese ones would rather spend less on their food and pay for better clothes."

The star tailor of Qom is a snowy-haired 74-year-old with a bright smile. Abolfazl Arabpour sews clothes for the president and many important members of the government, and used to make clothes for Ayatollah Khomeini. "I started out in Tehran making clothes for army officers in the days of the monarchy," he says. "I hated that job, but I must say that the detailed work of army uniforms has served me well in making fine clerical outfits." Arabpour's logbook is inches thick. Altogether he has four workshops in Qom. His sons have also become tailors and many other tailors name him as their master.

Clerical dress has become political in Iran. In earlier days, according to Arabpour, clerical clothes were shapeless and too loose. Over time, and particularly since the revolution, they have become far more tailored, varied and formal. Because the new order gives some members of the clergy power and prominence, these politicians want to look their best, especially on television. But political power has also exposed the clergy to intense public scrutiny - so for those mullahs who want to avoid politics or close association with the government, there is a real temptation not to wear their clerical garb except when it is required by their religious activity.
"On the street, if I wear clerical clothes, some people will greet me because of it, and others will insult me for the same reason," says one Tehran mullah. "But when I don't wear it, I get neither reaction. And I prefer that." This mullah has stopped wearing clerical clothes except on very special occasions. When you wear clerical clothes, he continues, "you are advertising for your religion and implicitly calling people to it. But I don't believe that this is my duty as a cleric."

Another cleric that I speak to, who is wearing a light grey-blue qabaa of exquisite cotton with short open seams on both sides of the waist and a white shirt with grey stripes to match the qabaa, insists that interest in clerical fashion is not confined to Islam: "In all religions, the only principle has to do with being covered, for men and for women. Even in Europe until about 100 years ago, it was considered impolite not to wear a hat or some kind of head covering in public."

One of the hottest topics for mullahs now is how to respect the dignity of the clothes while responding to the necessities of modern life. One long-standing controversy is whether they should ride motorcyles in clerical dress. "If it was up to me," says one, "I would ban it; it just looks so undignified, especially when they also have their wife and child riding with them and they have to tuck the ends of their mantle into their trouser pockets."

In Iran's hit film of 2004, Marmulak (The Lizard) - banned after a month in the cinemas, apparently because it was felt to be too mocking of the clergy - a thief dons clerical clothes to escape from prison. But he soon finds out how many things he cannot do in these clothes without catching attention - such as running fast when he thinks the police are after him.

Arabpour echoes the lesson of the film, pointing to the racks of half-finished clerical robes hanging at the back of his shop: "There is only air in these clothes. What really matters is the character of the man who wears them."

I am a Domestic Goddess...almost

2005-12-04T21:48:00.000+03:30

Made breadcrumbs! I’m *SO* satisfied with the way they turned out, especially after all that work. In a fit of creativity and innovation, I had toasted the bread slices, hand picked them into crumbs, and finally I crushed the crumbs in a plastic bag with a metal pipe.
Here’s a picture of my most precious breadcrumbs and “rolling pin”:

Here are last night’s chickpeas:

I am taking pictures of my cooking when I can remember so people can see my plight and send me tips, advice and recipes. I’m obsessed with becoming a reasonably decent cook so I can feed guests food without hanging my head in shame.

So-so Chick Peas

2005-12-03T15:41:00.000+03:30

So the chickpeas weren’t so fantastic, despite the 3 hour boil and the overnight soak. I made them into a dish and though they might cook down then, but no. They tasted *alright* but nothing special. Perhaps it was too much tomato paste.

Ah, to be domestic!

2005-12-02T20:06:00.000+03:30

Today is our day off. Well, mostly his day off, since I’m “off” every day. After dishes, I decided to tackle laundry since AliBobba is out of shirts and his work week starts back up again tomorrow. I also put the kidney beans back on the stove for an hour or so... to make sure they were well and cooked. I’m sure they could be cooked even more, but 5 hours is quite enough. I hope I’ve learned my lesson.

I thought the washing wouldn’t take long, since I seemed to be in a good flow. I started a little before 12pm, and was done by 2pm. It turns out that the soaping didn’t take long, but the rinsing did. And since I’m anal, the rinsing took extra long. I don’t want to have residual detergent and sulfides on his or my clothing. I used too much detergent once before, which resulted in an itchy rash.

I’ve decided to reward myself with breakfast/lunch. I’m having kidney beans and sangak, heated up on the gas burner (yay, I really can’t get over the fact that that’s how it’s heated, much like I can’t get over seeing all the ‘ayatollahs’ running around this town.) It makes sense. I remember wondering how people mustered the energy to go buy bread 3 times a day. I’m glad I asked Fatemeh, because she’s the one who told me they get a bunch and refrigerate it and then just heat it up in the microwave or on the heater.

The only pity is that the sangak dries out SO quickly. It’s so delicious. And I’m slow. Not a good combination, but it does make a good case for adding preservatives to everything. Mmmm, preservatives.

Anyway, the kidney beans aren’t half bad, despite the vague taste of burn. I prefer to think of it as smoked or charred or roasted. Think euphemistically. Anyway, good thing kidney beans have a fantastic taste all their own, otherwise I’m not sure what I’d do with all this beanage. Tossing it seems so wasteful. They do, in fact, taste more caramelized and similar to baked beans or maybe even chili-esque.

Here’re the fruits of my labors, including the sangak heating, the laundry, and the kidney beans.

Learning from my bean mishap, I soaked the dried garbanzos last night in lots of water and salt, and now I’ve put them on to boil at a very low heat. Let’s see how that works out.

I think it worked out alright. It took about 3 hours. I’m not sure if that sounds right or not to more experienced people, but that what it seems to be. They could be cooked even longer, but I’m thinking since I want to use them in different dishes, they’ll be cooked then also, so this is enough for now. They’re edible.

Albert (Khanum Elahi called Robert 'Albert' by mistake and the name stuck so we call him Albert sometimes) did some groceries for us tonight and I will try and make a Pakistani dessert called shahi tukra. It’s made from sliced bread. I don’t have *every* single thing I need, but what I have will do. I’ve been craving this dessert. Also, Ms. Z, with whom I conversed yesterday, sent over a bowl of candied sour cherries for us. Now I have two bowls from people, and I can’t send them back empty! I think I’ll do candy for Ms. Z’s bowl, as we haven’t given her candy yet, and I’ll have to think of something good for the Khanum’s bowl. Oh, the reason I mentioned the bowls in the first place was because I was thinking if the dessert turns out well enough, I might just send that over in the bowl.

Sara Ostaz

2005-12-01T11:06:00.000+03:30

Thursday, December 1, 2005

Today started off well, being my first “conversation class” with Ms. N from 10-11. This one went from 10:10-11:40am. The other English class isn’t suitable for her because she’s actually an English teacher herself and has an excellent grasp of English grammar. It’s more the speaking/pronunciation part she has issues with. In her school, she can’t really speak in English to her girls, and so even the English class is conducted in Farsi (unless they’re reading something or learning grammar.) So, despite having been an English teacher for 10 years, she feels her English has atrophied due to lack of use.

We read a page-long piece on Mozart’s life. It was interesting. Her pronunciation was mostly good. She had trouble with some of the German and Italian terms (Salzburg, concerto, Don Giovanni).

Then, I asked her to summarize what she’d read and she had a little more trouble conveying to me what the piece was about. She understood the basics, but said that in order to tell me about it, she would have to go home and prepare.
I told her that would be fine for now, but eventually, I would like her to be able to do a quick summary of a factual/historical read such as that one. It’s basically relating facts back.
I broke it up for her into two types of reading-related feedback. One is an immediate ability to synthesize major facts (perhaps a few supporting details) and be able to explain it in broad terms to someone else. The other would be what she wants to do, which is to go home and read it critically and analyze it and come back and discuss it in further depth. I’m sure there’s a lot more than this, but I’m no teacher or scholar, so I was struggling to compartmentalize the skills I feel would be crucial to the improvement of her English.

I told her certain types of texts are better for the analysis. Although we could take this Mozart piece and do some sort of critical analysis of it (Treatment of the poor? How do you define genius? Financial problems despite commercial success? Explain the irony of dying while writing a requiem that was never completed, having perhaps anticipated his own death? What can you infer about European attitudes towards music during his time, etc.), I think it’s better in this case to just be able to understand and talk about what we learned about Mozart’s life.

Anyway, she is an interesting lady. She wanted to be able to trade skills. She could teach me Farsi and I could help her with English. We both agreed we need to find good approaches to that end, but I actually told her I’d rather she help me with navigating Iranian culture than teaching me Farsi. I’m picking it up being immersed here, I’m going to try and do AliBobba’s software, and there are lots and lots of people who can supply me with tidbits. At this point, it’s more important for me to know how to clean our bathrooms and carpeting and rugs, where to buy precut chicken, how to cook Iranian dishes, where to find certain ingredients.

We talked about health insurance and epilepsy too. 20 years ago, she was diagnosed with epilepsy but has been on pretty strong drugs since then. While she hasn’t had any seizures since back then, the drug has taken a toll on her memory and on her bones. I’m assuming it means perhaps calcium is being leached from them? (Later on, she mentioned that her nephew has sent her calcium pills from the US and those are very good.) She feels her ability to retain stuff in English has also been greatly affected by the medication. She’s probably right, especially since her husband’s English has only improved with time as he picks up new things from CNN or BBC, and she hasn’t progressed as much.

Anyway, with that done, I decided to try and check email (mostly unsuccessful because the modem was too slow to actually connect with more than one page at a time, and then the time ran out and the University connection was even worse.)

Then, it was time to cook, so I took out the pot of kidney beans I had soaked yesterday, thinking they were ready to be cooked. BIG mistake. I sautéed onions and put in tomatoes and spices and fried it all up (I skipped the garlic/ginger this time) and dumped in the beans. I put in some extra water for them to cook and let it simmer. An hour later, they were still raw and hard. 2 hours later, they were still raw and hard. 1 hour after that, they were slightly softer, but the skins were still hard. Finally, at 6:30, I decided to check on them and they had burned and still were not completely squishy soft. This is after 4 hours of cooking and adding cups and cups of water. They were edible. It’s sad, because the spice in them actually turned out be just right and would have tasted pretty good except for the burn and the hardness.

It was annoying. Thank goodness we had some leftover rice and chicken and the eggplant and potato dish, which was just yummy!

I got online and it says you soak and then you BOIL the beans. A ha. Maybe most people know this and are laughing at my stupidity, but I clearly didn’t. I either use canned beans in the US, or I use beans that my dear mother has so kindly prepared for cooking beforehand and that I just pull out of the freezer and thaw and cook.

~Sara

More Food Fun

2005-11-30T10:52:00.000+03:30

Wednesday, November 30th, 2005

Okay, so after last night’s discovery that the lemon juice wasn’t helping add tartness to my daal or to my onion-green chilli-cilantro chutney, I took the rest of them today and turned them into juice. I left it undiluted and unsweetened for Irfan Ali to drink. I’m sure it’s probably good for his health. The juice has sweet overtones and a very bitter bite to it, but no sourness or tartness or whatever that taste is called. Here is a picture of my first ever hand squeezed lemon juice:

I also took a picture of the loaves of bread called Noon-e-Fantazy that we bought in Tehran. I’m not excited by their texture…but maybe I can make breadcrumbs out of them or a dessert, or Paki French toast.

More of Lala's Long Day (part 2)

2005-11-28T10:06:00.000+03:30

PART 2

I got horribly carsick. I tried and tried to ignore it. At first the Khanum and Fatemeh were reading their English books and were consulting with me, as I had promised to help Fatemeh with an article in her book. I can’t tell which came first, the carsickness or the migraine, but I had a raging headache and nausea soon followed and the headache turned into a migraine. Khanum kept thinking I was very tired because my eyes were so red from the headache and the strain of not throwing up, but eventually I couldn’t keep up the charade and begged off explaining my extreme nausea when I read or even look down in a moving vehicle. An added problem was that it was warm in the car and I was wearing lots of layers because it can get so cold so I felt suffocated. They were so gracious and understanding and I felt bad to be such a dull party pooper.

The drive on the highway was bearable, but as we got into Tehran and the traffic started up again, the sun was hotter than ever and I rolled down the window only to inhale strong diesel fumes. I tried taking deep breaths and told myself it wasn’t much longer, but then my stomach turned and I told AliBob that I was going to throw up and I just concentrated on trying not to faint or vomit.

We pulled over and there was a huge open gutter canal and if AliBob hadn’t held on to me and made me step over, I would have fallen in. I remember sitting in some dirt near some plants with Ali asking if I was okay and tears all over my face. I am so proud that I managed to keep my vomit down. I think it was the thought of having vomit breath for the rest of the afternoon and in the car that motivated me to not let it past my throat. The Elahis drove on and turned into a side street so they could come back to park and get me.

Luckily, Fatemeh had packed a bunch of sweets for everyone and they gave me a butterscotch candy to suck on. It was delicious.

Mortified (maybe that’s also why there were tears) that this had happened now, I apologized to them and they offered to let me sit in the front seat and the Khanum could drive instead and they even exchanged the carkeys but I insisted that after this I was fine and I’m so sorry and please I’m good for another 2 hours before I get sick again.

So we continued on our merry way. Thank God we weren’t in the car much longer because the nausea came back double quick this time.
We picked up one of the Elahi’s 4 sons from his University. At 21, he is their oldest, named Muhammad, and is studying mathematics and physics. He is brilliant and wants to go to MIT. If anyone can, it will be he.
They apologized profusely for adding him to the car and I said I don’t care, I’m Pakistani and we always pack tightly into cars, it's part of the family fun package. AliBob was master of his own domain in the front seat.

Then we went to a very old part of Tehran which is actually an old village that predates Tehran and the city just grew around it. We parked there and walked up a steep hill to a shrine/mosque. I can’t remember whose shrine it is but it’s someone relatively important. I had already prayed but the Khanum had to, so we both went in and I wandered around and look at it. I wasn’t sure what to do (the Khanum had said “I’ll pray, and you can do ziarat” and I had said “okay” but I really don’t know what ziarat is or how to do it) so I just copied other people. I know, I’m such a fake. I’m too comfortable to expose my Sunnihood.

The décor is interesting. It is all basically cut mirrors mortared into different calligraphy and designs. This was worth photographing, but I think I stood out a little because this was a small place and I wasn’t sure if it would be allowed. The effect is just thousands of glittering mirrored surfaces everywhere you turn (including the walls and pillars) and is almost too gaudy for my taste, but it’s still fun to see all these shiny objects and what can be done with them.

There is a cemetery attached to the shrine so we walked over to where the graves are and we saw people gathered around a grave and sitting on other gravestones and I heard a beautiful recitation of Quran on tape. A few people were crying and everyone was somber. Interestingly enough, very few women were wearing chador. Only the Khanum, Fatemeh, and perhaps 2 other ladies. Khanum and Fatemeh had warned me teasingly that “ohh.. Dr. Elahi’s family does not wear chador and they barely wear hijab” and he had laughed in agreement, but it's odd to see it after becoming accustomed to seeing chador everywhere.

So these are the modern Tehranians with lots of makeup and supergroomed eyebrows and blond hair and fitted manteaus and expensive designer clothing. I greeted them and they were all very nice and all spoke perfect English because, as I later learned, they go back and forth to America and Europe fairly frequently and in fact, this deceased uncle has 4 children who are physicians abroad and 3 children in Tehran, or something like that.

Here Irfan Ali got a pic of me sitting with the deceased gentleman’s aged sister, in chador. I felt bad for her and Fatemeh asked why I was so sad and I told her that I know what it’s like to have a brother and she was shocked and said “your brother also died???”. That was too funny. I reassured her that my brother is alive and well but that I just love him so much that I can’t even imagine what this poor lady is going through. Fatemeh is still at that young age where she finds all her brothers mostly annoying and likes them better when they’re away at school. I told her when she’s a little older she’ll realize that siblings are one of the greatest gifts our parents (with some help from nature, I suppose) can give us. [sigh] I miss my siblings. I got lucky though, because not only do my siblings rock, I have cousins who are like siblings too, and lord do I miss them too.

Anyway, the picture:

As you can see above, they had laid out green turf-like carpets on the other graves. I thought it was for more comfortable sitting, but AliBob guessed it was also out of respect for the privacy of the dead buried around there. Makes sense.
Here is the actual grave of Mr. Sernevesht, Dr. Elahi’s uncle. Interesting point, Sernevesht is a rare last name in Iran and it means “destiny”.

The grave is beautiful, carved in granite and its head has a built-in planter for perennial flowers and there’s a built-in cove for candles at its base. Those were fresh fowers used to decorate it. You can’t see from here, but they also had sweets and snacks behind the marker that they served to everyone after the Quran recitation.

Oh… and a note on the Quran recitation, which was stunning. It was *not* a tape, but a real live “Qari”, a trained reciter of the Quran. He was very young and he had a beautiful young wife.
As Bobert went around to look at the graves around there, he was *so* excited to have found the grave of a real, honest-to-goodness “pahlevan”, or strongman. The Iranians, like Indians and Pakistanis, have an ages old tradition of strongman wrestlers, which IrfanBob can explain further. He was able to recognize it by the engraving of the club bells and chain that they use to train.

I think the dates are in the Iranian form. Iran has its own calendar and date system. There are 12 months that roughly coincide with the Gregorian calendar; they’re about 10 days off. I think we’re in the year xx84. I don’t know what the century is. I know eighty-something because when I opened up my cream during our first days here, I noticed the production date as ‘84 and the expiration date as ‘85 and freaked out that we were having 20-year-old dairy products. (Hey, it can happen, especially in a 3rd world country..right?)

Anyway, after we were done here, people helped fold stuff up and then we left to go meet them at their home. It was actually Mr. Sernevesht’s old house which is now empty because his wife (who is actually Dr. Elahi’s biological aunt, Khaleh Gauhar) died last year, almost exactly a year ago.

They live in an affluent area of Tehran and the house, though not big by Iranian standards, was beautifully furnished with rich furniture and the best decoration pieces from all over the world. He loved to travel and as Fatemeh later told me, he was very rich. He also owned a vacation home right on the Caspian Sea.

At first, when we entered, I thought we might be segregated, because there was a women’s room and a men’s room, but then Dr. Elahi’s cousins ushered us all into the main living room (thank goodness) and I sat next to AliBob and Fatemeh. The hospitality, as usual, was firmly in place as we were promptly served tea and more sweets that we declined because we were hungry and the past few weeks I’ve been a little off sugar. It’s not all that great on an empty stomach anyway.

They had a dvd playing of Mr. Sernevesht’s “sevvum” (which means third and marks the 3rd day after a person’s death) ceremony. People just chatted for a while and Dr. Elahi’s cousin’s hijabs came off. I’m not saying this with any judgment because who am I, the hijabless-barely-Muslim-wonder, to say anything to other women?

After about an hour, they served everyone their own individual plate of fruit with paring knife (that’s why people have lots of fruit knives in their house, it’s one for each person). Each plate had an orange, a tangerine, a banana and a cucumber. I know, the cucumber threw me, but it’s eaten as a fruit would be (often salted also) and commonly for breakfast with cheese and bread. Isn't it technically a fruit anyway?

People worked on their chai and their fruit and I didn’t have anything but eventually I got AliBob to peel me a tangerine and we shared it. I wasn’t sure how long we would be there or what the plan was but I was getting really hungry and had to go home and cook dinner and it was already around 7 or 7:30 at this time.

After the fruit came the sholehzard, which was that sweet yellow rice and saffron confection with almonds and pistachios on top. I didn’t have any at first, but then I shared a bowl with Mrs. Elahi. It was good.

All this time we had been chatting and different people, especially those who went to America/Europe a lot, came and talked to us and wanted to know all about AliBob and what we were doing in Iran and in Qom of all places (because many of the Tehranians have never been to Qom. I suppose there’s no need, especially if you’re not religiously inclined.)

And the more religious people wanted to know all about his conversion to Islam (which is *always* a popular story and gets told everywhere) and of course, as always, they also asked if he is Shia Muslim and he said yes and they were even more pleased. I can understand, there are so few Shias anyway and so many are getting killed off that it really is nice for Shias to see converts to Shia Islam instead of the mainstream Sunni conversions that are everywhere. Mr. Sernevesht’s sister was particularly pleased and thought AliBob was just so fantastic and good (who doesn’t?).

Then, what do you know, dinner was served! It was awesome. Simple, but awesome. They had lots of salad and yogurt, big marinated and grilled chicken breasts with a gravy/juice/drippings dish thing to pour over it and delicious dill rice, and tahdeeg, which means literally “under the pot” and is the layer of bread (or potatoes) laid in oil on the bottom of the pot of rice that is cooked on top of it. In this case, it was bread and it fried up beautifully and had a layer of rice and dill stuck to it and was just delish. It gets broken up into pieces and you just take it with your fingers.

Dr. Elahi’s cousins were gracious hosts and actually went around to each person holding the different dishes to make sure they had enough and to take more if they wanted. And for us, they put all the things in bowls for us and set them on the coffee table near which we were eating so we had everything we wanted right there. *Nice*.

I must mention at this point, that from the time we got there (I mean even at the gravesite when all the attendees were served the trays of sweets) at around 4:30 or so, until we left at 9:15 or so, The Elahis’ son Muhammad was the one serving everyone and helping with the hosting. Mrs. Elahi would motion to him to quickly relieve someone of a tray they were carrying and he would do so promptly. For all the different rounds of tea, Muhammad served everyone, as he did with the fruit and sweets and sholehzard. And when he would be done with our room, Mrs. Elahi would remind him to make sure all the ladies had everything in the other room too.

He was amazing, just like his younger brother Sadra at the lunch we had at the Elahi home. They do it graciously and uncomplainingly with a smile on their faces and with no embarrassment or annoyance. The Elahis have done a fantastic job with their children and I suppose the rest is also just plain good fortune. Irfan Ali and I are impressed and we are so so lucky to have met the Elahis and have them become our adoptive family here.

After dinner (I was, as usual, the last person still eating after people were already done with tea), we had tea and then things started winding down. As we digested our food and things were cleared away, they popped in a dvd of family movies which, despite being in Farsi, were so entertaining. I love family photos and videos and their videos reminded me of the ones my own family has, with my grandfather talking and even dancing and all the aunts, uncles and cousins sitting and joking and celebrating weddings and birthdays together or just making a video for the fun of it.

There was one particular one where Mr. Sernevesht was vacationing in the Caspian Sea with his wife and he had secretly taken a video of her without her knowing. They were sitting together in front of a fire and were just peeling fruit and nuts and eating them. It was so sweet. I think he was asking her odd things because when she would say things, people would laugh.

There were clips of him in Holland visiting children, and one of a celebration of Noruz (Persian New Year), and a birthday.

There were more tears as a father and mother were missed, and seeing all the cousins and family sitting around together watching the videos and laughing made me miss my family even more because *we* do that (when we can, anyway). It’s funny, because now that AliBob has spent so much time with my family, he also recognizes the similarities, so when Mr. Sernevesht did a little dance in one video, AliBob said “Hey, that’s just like Abboo jee in his haal at Shameela’s dholki”. Abboo jee was my maternal grandfather and he did indeed do a dance at one of the pre-wedding family functions of my cousin.

Okay, sorry I digressed with my own nostalgic rantings.

At around 9:15, we wrapped things up and took our leave and Dr. Elahi’s cousin gave a whole big untouched 9x13 dish of sholehzard to Khanume Elahi to take home.

Muhammad stayed and would go straight to University from there the next day. We all said khodahafez (goodbye) and were on our merry way.

About an hour into our drive, the Khanum heard something weird and told Dr. Elahi to pull over. Sure enough, we had a flat tire. Bad timing because Fatemeh was tired (well we all were) and had school early (starts at 7:15am) the next day.

So the Agha got down on his hands and knees and changed the tire himself. It was a challenge because the wrench used to take the bolts off was bent and the bolts were quite tightly screwed in. Also, it had gotten extremely cold and windy out in the desert. He was just in his shirtsleeves and people drive like crazy on the highway and we were worried that someone might run him over so AliBob stood a little further back close to the road by the reflective triangle that didn’t want to stay up on its own so that, if hit, he’d go first. No worries, about 20 minutes later, we were on our merry way.

As we drove on, I lamented my forgetfulness and wished I had remembered to take a picture. We joked and told the Agha to get another flat tire so I could get a picture of him, the great Ayatollah Ruhollah Dr. Mr. Elahi (as Fatemeh and I have dubbed him) changing a tire.

10 minutes into our drive, we hear and feel something weird happen and again Khanum tells him to pull over. Again, we had another flat tire. At this point it was 10:45 and we had already used our spare tire. This time, Dr. Elahi didn’t pull over very far into the shoulder because we really hadn’t expected to have a second flat. So it was a little more dangerous and cars would flash their lights and honk at us. I took it as a good sign because at least they could see us.

There is a traffic assistance truck that does laps up and down the highway so we waited for one on our side but none came. Dr. Elahi dashed across the highway (while we ladies freaked out) with people honking and talked to the truck on the other side to ask him for help. Then he dashed back and said the truck would call for help.

As Dr. Elahi started taking the tire off, we stood waiting for the tow truck and a car passed us and slowed down and then pulled over. Out came a man (ayatollah garb alert) and talked to Dr. Elahi and promptly went to his own trunk, pulled out his spare, and handed it to Dr. Elahi. I assumed they knew each other (because all ayatollah-garbed men *must* know each other just like all Pakistanis in Northern Va. *must* know each other) and asked the Khanum if they were friends. She said she didn’t know maybe, and we asked Dr. Elahi.
It turns out that they, in fact, did *not* know each other at all and that he had just pulled over because that is what a Muslim should do. He also had he did it for the women because they should not have to stand out in the cold.
If this mullah only knew how grateful we were to him… not even all the Iranian taarof and formalities in the world could have appropriately conveyed how we felt. He brushed away our thanks and hurried back to his car and left.
I guess it goes both ways though, because Dr. Elahi is a good and honest man, so the mullah was able to help a person who would return his tire to him promptly.
While Dr. Elahi again changed the tire, a huge bus pulled over right in front of our car. Less than a minute later, another car pulled over in front of the bus and 2 or 3 minutes after that, another car had pulled over ahead. It seems they *all* also got flat tires. Bad part of the road, it seems. It really sucks for the bus.

We were worried but then they all remembered that I had lamented my lost photo opportunity (I have been deemed, by Fatemeh, opportunistic with a camera, and rightly so) and so I whipped out my camera and managed to take a few pictures. Enjoy them as much as we did and see how cool it is that someone who is a cleric and an important vice chancellor of one of the best humanities universities in Iran and whose wife is a well known lawyer, are still laid back enough to change not one, but 2 tires on an icy cold weeknight, after having driven us around for hours during the day. And what was even cooler is that they never once got upset, angry or frustrated. The Khanum said a little prayer and they both just did it with humor and patience and there was good cheer right up until we got home.

A back view:

A front view, with a smile from the Agha and with AliBob in the background acting as a human shield..”so that at least I’ll get hit first”. What a guy!

A few good men, while two worried women watched on and one young girl slept in the car.

I told the Khanum to pose by her hero’s side:

Way too Early for Sara (part 1)

2005-11-28T09:56:00.000+03:30

Monday, November 28th, 2005

Okay. Today was a *long* day. But overall it was very interesting and fun. There are 2 parts so I’ll break it up that way.

PART 1
Today was a national holiday as it is the martyrdom date of the Imam Jaafer Al Saadiq. He is the 6th Imam of Shia Islam and actually is important to Sunni Islam as he was the teacher of 2 of the 4 men who would eventually form their own subsects in Sunni Islam, Imam Abu Hanifa (most Pakis and Muslims around the world follow his teachings and are called Hanafis) and Imam Malik (a smaller sect, mostly Arab).

Though there have always been hundreds of different sects historically in Islam, these are the 4 that remain and comprise the majority of Sunni Islam today. And then there are those wayward Shias. ;)

Imam Saadiq also might be my ancestor (maybe) because he is a descendant of the 1st Caliph of Islam after Prophet Muhammad’s death, Hazrat Abu Bakr Al Siddiq. From what I’ve been told, we Siddiqis are also descendants of Hazrat Abu Bakr. Who knows if it’s true, but it sounds cool, eh? Anyway, all Muslims are busy trying to find lineages and trace themselves back to these early Muslims or to the family of the Prophet because it makes us feel special. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter to me.

Anyway, the morning started at 6-something, grr (yes, I’m lame). At least we were up for prayer, I suppose. We had a quick breakfast, showered and dressed and were ready and waiting outside our apartment at 7am. Mr. Mir Mohammadi (ayatollah garb alert!) came and got Bobert while I waited for Khanume Elahi and Fatemeh. Turns out the Mir Mohammadis only live 2 buildings over (the buildings are all attached).

Here’s my hubby bubby bright eyed, bushy tailed and freshly scrubbed in front of our apartment building.

We all went and sat in one room and just talked for a while. We were served a round of tea and this is where I finally learned how to drink the cup of tea while holding the sugar cube in my mouth. Apparently, so did AliBob over on the men’s side. We’re so cute and in tune!
The trick is to wedge it between cheek and teeth and to drink the tea rather quickly, unlike in brown people culture, where we sip and nurse the tea and make it last like it’s our last cup ever.

Anyway, the ceremony or “majliss”, started and I basically didn’t understand anything. Though the women were sitting in the family room and the men were in the formal living room, they had set up speakers for us to hear everything. So at first there was some Quranic recitation, and then someone talked or lectured and then someone sang-recited something. It was mournful and emotional and his voice was cracking and shaking from his sobs. Later AliBob told me that there the lecture was the historical account, and the sing-songy part, for whom they usually hire special people with this skill, was the elegy.

The women were weeping, some *quite* loudly and lots of tissues were passed around. Here is something interesting. Though the women were sitting together and crying loudly, they mourned in private. Over time, as emotions soared, they pulled their chadors far down over their faces and let it hang and you could just see the air from their sniffles and sobs fluttering it about in front of them. An added advantage is that you can also blow your nose in total privacy. Nice.

I, having no chador, felt quite exposed. It was odd for me for several reasons. Since I’m not Shia, at first I was worried that I wouldn’t cry and they would find it rude. I know that’s irrational since I don’t even understand the language, but, being supposedly Shia (yes, I’m not really advertising to anyone that I’m Sunni), I should at least know the subject matter and be moved by the knowledge of it.

But his voice was so sad and heartbreaking and I understood names here and there and then he mentioned Kerbala, something all Muslims (should) know about and then that depressed me and I ended up crying anyway. Then that was embarrassing in a whole new way because I didn’t want to be snotty faced and puffy eyed and sobby without the privacy of a chador in front of all these people I didn’t know.

Then there was more Quran and du’a (prayer) and he wound it down. The women dabbed tissues under their chadors and slowly emerged composed, if a bit red-eyed, and started the social part of the morning.

The weird thing is, they started chatting and smiling and going on about their normal conversations and I was still upset about Kerbala and bummed out and I just wanted to go home and have a good cry. I talked to Fatemeh and she was so sweet and said it’s *so* good and special that you cried even though you didn’t understand what he said and that it means a lot to God. She’s so cute. I’m really such a heathen. Anyway I cried discreetly a little while longer and finally had some more tea.

They served us breakfast. For breakfast, we had a special dish called haleem, which is similar to the Pakistani haleem but not the same thing. It is made of meat and wheat and cooked over a long time so that the meat breaks down and it becomes a viscous paste. There is a lot of cinnamon in it and many people add sugar to theirs to eat it. See, Pakistani haleem, though also made with meat and wheat, additionally has lentils and pulses, spices and is definitely savory and spicy and eaten with ginger and green chilies and crisp fried golden onions and cilantro as garnishes on top.

We ate the haleem with sangak, but this sangak had sesame seeds on it, which was also tasty. They also served dates “khormeh” and walnuts “girduh” and the white cheese “paneer safeed”. I learned how to eat the bread with cheese on it and a walnut in the center. *Very* interesting.

The whole time, ever since we had arrived, the hostess had been in and out of the kitchen, along with 2 or 3 other women who had remained in the kitchen, helping her with the rounds of tea, heating the breads and haleems and serving etc. There were a lot of people.

Iranian hospitality is beyond compare… well, maybe like Pakistani hospitality, but different because it is so formal, whereas at least in my family the hospitality and generosity are there but it’s much more informal and casual too.

After eating there was more talking, especially among the women. I met Ms. N, who is an English teacher in a local high school and would like to practice her conversational skills.

Mrs. Elahi also announced that I would start teaching English lessons as of this coming Wednesday and we decided on a time.

Then we went home. I’m actually glad I went, despite my initial issues with morning wakefulness and Shia devotional stuff that Sunnis tend to avoid and frequently denounce as blasphemous/cultish.
Ali and I thought we might take a nap and then get on the loads of laundry we have accumulating since after my first attempt at laundry I haven’t really gone back to it, but the Elahis called and invited us to go to Tehran for the day so we could catch the sights and sounds. At first we said no thinking a. we had a lot to do and were kind of tired and b. it would be weird to intrude on his family ceremony but then Khanum insisted and we said, sure why not.
I washed a few items and a couple of hours later we were on our way to Tehran.

~Sara

Mofid and Ayatollah Garb Alert

2005-11-27T22:39:00.000+03:30

Sunday, November 27th, 2005

AliBob and I had a lunch date today at Mofid. We wanted to eat in the cafeteria together, but it’s segregated and I don’t feel comfortable sitting with a bunch of girls I don’t know while my hubby eats lunch with the higher ups of the university on the other side. I must say things like this are quite annoying. Women and men sit thigh to thigh in taxicabs but they can’t eat lunch together? Not even a married couple? Whatever.

Anyway, so Mr. Islami, the kind and helpful clerk that he is, brought us lunch in AliBob’s office. He also gave us food and really nice dishes and silverware to eat off of.

The food was sabzi ghormeh, which is basically stewed meat cubes with kidney beans in a green (spinach and other greens) sauce. It was *really* good, and if the meat was lamb, we couldn’t really tell. There was lots of rice and mine was leftover, so Mr. Islami cleared our dishes and put my leftover rice in a plastic bag for me.

Then we were about to have tea when Dr. Elahi came to visit us. So we all had tea together and talked for a while. He said he has to go to Tehran tomorrow for his uncle’s “chehlum”, which means the fortieth, marking 40 days after someone’s death. I think it’s done in Pakistan too, but my family doesn’t really do it. But he also said that one of our neighbors, Agha Mir Mohammadi, was having a ceremony that day to commemorate the martyrdom of Imam Jaafer Al Saadiq and wanted to invite us. It’s at 7am. Irfan Ali said yes immediately so I managed to also say yes in a normal and convincing tone. 7am. I can’t remember waking up that early even in the US. Except for during Ramadan, which was special.

Okay… so we had already discovered that Dr. Elahi is also a cleric, a “taleb”, as many people here are. But I’ve never seen him in his “ayatollah garb”, so I was only too excited about this. I had my camera on hand and behold, Ayatollah Elahi (N.B. He's not *really* an Ayatollah! Sara thinks everyone who wears the clergyman's garb is an "Ayatollah"!):

I took the liberty of touching his clothing and discovered that it is quite heavy. The over cloak is of a heavy cotton, made in Syria. The suit-like garment underneath is actually a wool-poly blend, quite thick, and is in fact suit material. You can’t see it in the picture, but the suit undergarment had a cool and very subtle design on it of a light yellow and blue stripe/plaid on a sand-colored base.

Just in case you all were wondering, because I certainly was and asked, yes, the turban does come apart. No, he does not have to wrap it in place every day. Only when it is washed, one unravels it, washes it, dries it and wraps it back up. Yes, there is a specific way to wrap it and they are taught this along with all their other studies. Now I can die in peace. And yes, he took it off and let me touch it! It just feels like thick white cotton wrapped up. Now I know. But I still find the ayatollah garb cool. It’s so Qom.

Then AliBob went to a lecture by Grand Ayatollah Ardebili (the founder of Mofid, remember?) who is 80 years old and still lucid and speaking.

I spent a few hours checking email and surfing the web. When AliBob returned, he told me that Ayatollah Ardebili is actually a dead-ringer for Santa Clause. He’s a blue-eyed Turk with a white beard and he’s from Ardebil in Turkey (hence Ardebili), so that was interesting. He also mentioned that this lecture was harder to understand because of the Ayatollah’s sophisticated and intellectual Farsi.

After the the lecture, random people wanted to meet the Grand Ayatollah and so he did that but apparently they all cleared the way as Irfan Ali was summoned by the Ayatollah’s and Mofid’s people as the guest of honor here in Iran and in Qom and at Mofid. Also, the lecture had been filmed and AliBob noticed that he tended to feature prominently in several of the different shots from all different angles from all the cameras.

He’s SO cute and funny and special, my hubby. He’s not exactly thrilled with all this attention, but what’s he gonna do when we go back to the US and are just two regular unimportant dorks again? Or maybe potential “terrorists”?

The sun started setting and AliBob has a gorgeous view out of his office overlooking the treetops to the mountains so we got a few sunset pictures. Maybe during the day, he’ll take a few good ones of the actual view.

And towards the right a little bit:

~Sara

X Marks the Spot

2005-11-26T09:27:00.000+03:30

Saturday, November 26th, 2005

Okay, I want to illustrate to you where we are located in Qom, so you understand the nature of our outskirts-ness. I think it was also good for Ali and me so we could orient ourselves and figure out our location in relation to the city center. So, here is a picture of the map of Qom. It’s an older map, but it was definitely made after 1989, because Mofid is on there. For cartophiles like my husband, maps are particularly entertaining.The red dot shows you where we are, and that light blue circle shows you where the city center is.

Fesenjaan

2005-11-25T15:02:00.000+03:30

Okay, today was fantastic. We had amazing food and got to visit a carpet-weaving factory that employs women weavers and went to an interesting but sad and poorly kept zoo. My batteries died at the zoo so no pics there, but I did take pics of everything else.

We ended up not going to the park because Dr. Elahi thought it might be too chilly and windy to eat outside, and so they had us over for lunch instead. It was an elaborate affair and we arrived around 12:30 and they brought out snacks and sweets and candy followed by tea and after tea it was more fruit and candy and snacks.

What was interesting was that the whole time, it was Dr. Elahi and Fatemeh who sat with us and chatted, while their other son Sadra was the one serving us and bringing us tea as the Khanum worked in the kitchen. She also came and sat with us but I just thought it was really cool that at least in this family, there is no shame in having the boy do housework and serve people.

Everything was fantastic and I got a picture of the coffee table after we had ravaged its contents for the better part of almost 2 hours. We had to move some stuff off to make room for more stuff and there was just so much that even after we all had some, it all seemed full.
One of the pastries, the one behind the fruit and the pistachios, is called “Sarq e Aroos”, which means bride’s leg. Actually, it means leg of the bride, literally, interesting name for a culture that doesn’t want to draw attention to womanly attributes. Anyway, it’s delicious.

So we sat and chatted for a while longer and finally, lunch was ready. We wanted to help them set the table and get the food out, and I got a quick picture of the table before they all came back out of the kitchen:

There were two kinds of salads, fried potatoes (which aren’t on the table yet), the black cumin rice, and the dish of honor, fesenjaan. There is nothing I can say to do this dish justice. Even AliBob, not so much a meat eater, loved it. It is something that won’t be found in restaurants, and according to our guidebook, is served to guests of honor... yay that's us!
It takes about 10 hours to make and requires a lot of prep and a lot of cooking, but not a lot of action in between. It consists of walnuts, pomegranate paste and chicken, at the most basic level. The Khanum, being a fantastic cook, has made it unique by adding pistachios, garlic, quince paste (for the sweet content) and maybe some lemon juice. You roughly crush and chop all that up and then let it cook on very very low heat for several hours until the walnuts release their oil.

The taste is sweet and sour, which is the trademark flavor of this dish, but it’s also reminiscent of barbecue sauce but nothing like what we’ve ever tasted before. The rice was fluffy and perfect.

I could eat fesenjaan everyday. It’s up there on my list of favorite foods, right up there with biryani and pulao and all of my mom’s/aunts’/great aunt's/grandmother’s cookings. Needless to say, the women in my family are amazing cooks. I think it’s a generation skipping gene because at 25, I’m still waiting to blossom into my amazing cooking skills.

Anyway. We had a fun lunch and AliBob and I ate our food more like Pakistanis maybe, because we ate our yogurt with our food, whereas they all saved most of their yogurt for after the meal. Interesting. The salad was very good and the dressing was made of mayonnaise (called "sauce-e-mayonnaise").

We were stuffed. Then there was cleanup and we sat and talked for a while longer. Actually… it was well into the afternoon by this point and we figured we should leave. But then we got to talking and watching TV and we were talking about Persian carpets and then the Khanum suggested we could go visit a carpet-weaving factory.

The reason we would be allowed to go is that as a lawyer, she had helped establish this factory with the stipulation that women weavers would be hired, and so the people who owned the factory would be more than willing to let her see how it was progressing.

We got to the factory and though it was closed, the watch man let us in and talked to us about it. It was surprising actually, because it was big and clean and not “factory/sweatshop-y” at all. The looms were all set up on one side, and they were huge. This factory is about to start a new project, which is why the looms were set up with gold thread as the base thread. They are going to weave each page of the Quran as a separate carpet. That should be interesting.

They had worked on a prototype of the border for the pages of the Quran:

They were also in the middle of weaving a huge rug that had been commissioned by some rich Iranian man who fancied himself a samurai, had married an Italian woman and had a picture of his ancestors (deceased) and his family’s image superimposed onto it.
There are several fascinating things about this picture. First, it’s cool to see the weavers weaving the carpet into the carpet (because they were posed sitting on a carpet). Second, the wife is not wearing a head cover in the picture, but in the carpet, they have woven in a head cover.

This loom is a rotating loom with a fixed platform, so they work on the carpet on one side and rotate it around. The looms they’ll be weaving the Quran on are not rotating, so they will have movable platforms (kind of like scaffolding) rested on the ladder-type structures on either side and weavers will work on both sides of the loom. Later on, the rug will be cut in half at the top.

I got a cool picture of the gold and maroon yarns they’ll be using for the Quran too. It was hard to capture the richness and depth of the color:

Anyway, after the factory, we went to a park, Bostan-e-Alawi (Ali’s Park) outside Qom. It was where the Khanum had wanted to have the picnic originally. It was *really* cold, so we did a quick stroll took some pictures and jumped back in the car. Here is the Elahi family and us, thanks to the timer function on my camera, which my cousin Sheherzad and I figured out together. There was some artifact on the lens, and the flash reflected off the stone and that's all that white you see, but there we are.

We took a few more pictures and then we were off on our way to a little zoo type place. It could almost be a petting zoo. They had some interesting animals, including a 3-legged deer and 2 puppies in the same enclosure. The puppies were zoo animals because they don't look like the dogs commonly seen in these parts. They looked like little terriers or bichon frises or something along those lines... little yappy ones.

There were lots of birds and a hawk or a falcon that was beautiful and big but so sad looking in its tiny cage. There wasn’t even a perch for the bird, so it just sat at the edge of its built-in water bowl and stared at us mournfully.

The cages were ill maintained and small and there was no bedding or straw laid down for the animals. There were a bunch of primate cages, and there were a few monkeys that just sat in the corner and stared off into space. There was a horse drawn coach and when they unhitched the horse and put it in its enclosure, we realized how malnourished it was—all ribs and bones jutting out.

The waterfowl (ducks, swans, herons, flamingoes, etc.) were quite beautiful but their ponds were pretty small, freezing cold, and extremely dirty.

We also saw parrots, owls, lovebirds and a couple of ostriches and in Farsi, ostrich is called “shetor-morgh”, which literally means “camel-chicken”. I love it. It makes perfect sense too.

Anyway, we felt bad being too critical since they had brought us here for fun and to take us around to see the sights, but despite the unexpected variety of animals in such a small place in a small town, it was just not a happy place for the animals.

The good thing, though, was that it seemed that the Elahis themselves realized that it wasn’t right to keep the animals this way (Ali-Bob's note: as the extent of the problems of the "zoo" became apparent, I raised the issue of the un-Islamic nature of the treatment of the animals, with which Mrs. Elahi seemed particularly in agreement, and which Dr. Elahi also acknowledged), and as we left, we saw that Mrs. Elahi had stayed behind and when she finally caught up with us at the car, she said she had told the people running the place that they should be ashamed of themselves as people and as Muslims for keeping the animals in such shameful conditions, without even clean water or warm beds or clean cages. Apparently, as Dr. Elahi said affectionately of his wife, she is quite the activist. Very cool.

Happy Thanksgiving...sort of

2005-11-24T22:10:00.000+03:30

Today, after doing dishes and cleaning up a bit (I quite like having something of a routine, and even being domestic is fun for a while), Irfan Ali and I decided I would meet him at Mofid at 1:00 so we could go together and change some money.

But then the Khanum called and we were on the phone for a bit (not chit chatting away, but it took a good 15 minutes of talking to even understand a few things on both sides) and so she said she had a meeting and would meet me outside at 1pm so I wouldn’t have to walk alone. I tried calling Irfan Ali to tell him of this change, and I’m so proud of myself because the number I called goes to the main switchboard and I told the operator “please office of my husband Agha Robert Tappan #457” and he put me through!!
Of course, my hubby bubby didn’t answer. (Later he told me it was because he was at prayer.)

So, I met up with the Khanum at 1pm and we walked over together and practiced talking in English. It was a beautiful day today and she was on her way to a meeting in a park and I learned some quite fascinating things.

She is one of four members of the Qom Women’s Jockey Club. The problem is, they don’t have horses to ride, so she, being a lawyer and a women’s rights activist in general, managed to procure 2 horses from the government in Tehran for the women of Qom to be able to ride. She said the men have lots of horses available to them, and there are horses in Qom, but usually privately owned.

So, she finally managed to secure 2 horses from the government for public use by women. The problem was, they still needed to lobby for land and equipment and some funds to house and care for the horses. So her meeting was with her partner Mr. S who is the president of the Jockey Club, and other members. The Khanum is the head of the women’s division of the Jockey Club.

She asked if I could ride horses. I tried to explain that if by ride she means sit on a horse and let it walk or trot, then yes, but not really proper riding or dressage or whatever it’s called. She said that we could go horse riding sometime. I am *quite* thrilled since I’ve only been horse riding twice in 10 years in the US. I love horses. The only thing is, I’d have to do it with just women; Irfan Ali and I couldn’t go together. That’s definitely a bummer since I like doing things with him. We always have such a good time together. Especially here, it would be nice to experience and discover Iran together.

So, once again, waved to the guard as I went past the gates, but unexpectedly, someone came after me with a “Khanum! Khanum!” and so I turned around and told him my husband Robert Tappan American office there 4th floor. And he had no idea what I was talking about. So I tried telling him again that my husband is there and he is the American. I also said yesterday, I here.

He finally asked Dr. Elahi? And I said, yes! So he asked me to step back and tried calling Dr. Elahi’s office but there was no response. So after a good 5 or 6 minutes, he hands me the phone and someone says “Salam” on the other end and I don’t recognize him. I look at the guard and say “Not Dr. Elahi” and he says “yes Dr. Elahi” and I say hello and salaam and don’t recognize the person and then I tell the guard again “Not Dr. Elahi” and he again says “Yes Dr. Elahi”. But then he says “English” and says “Dr. Nouri” and makes a hand gesture showing that Dr. Nouri and Dr. Elahi are the same person.

So I say “Do you speak English?” and mercifully, the man spoke perfect English. He is the head of the language lab, I think. I explain to him my husband is Robert Tappan and I came with him before but it’s not the same guard and he says ah yes yes, this guard is new and then explains the situation to the guard. They stay on the phone a good 3 or 4 more minutes and finally the guard, who is a nice man, says bebakhsheed (excuse me) and khodahafez (goodbye).

So it took me a good 45 minutes to get to Irfan Ali’s office. I was late and while he wrapped up I had a quick tea (he always has tea and snacks in his office!) and we were off on our way to catch a cab and change money. We had to hurry because the bank was closing at 3:30 so luckily, we got a cab right at the building’s curbside and he took us to the bank. The cabbie was friendly and talkative and got us there at 2:30.

The bank was closed. Well actually, the iron grating was drawn about, but I saw the front door behind the grating slightly ajar, so I tested my luck and slipped through. People were still there and coming in, and so we asked about changing currency. The guy spoke fluent English and explained to us that they were in fact closed and that their hours were 7:30am-1:30pm on weekdays, and they closed at 12:30 on Thursdays because of the weekend (everything closes early on Thursdays). Grouchy and hungry and tired, we just caught a cab back home.

Then, in the evening, my sister called from VA and I talked to her and it was so good to hear her voice and I asked them what they were doing and they were getting turkey ready for Thanksgiving and were having some family over. I feel lame for saying this, but I started crying. This is my first real cry in Iran. I’m just not a good cook and no matter what I cook it doesn’t seem to be substantial enough. I feel totally inept and out of my element and I’m a horrible wife to AliBob. I serve absolutely no purpose here. I also miss my family and Thanksgiving and Turkey (or Tofurkey, or Unturkey) dinners with mashed potatoes and gravy and fixins. [Sigh] I’m such an American.

So we talked and I told them not to worry because I was just in a grumpy mood and they ran out of minutes and we got cut off and then I had my second cry, and that was that.

Later on, the Khanum called and asked what we thought of having a picnic on Friday in a park and that she would cook Iranian food. We said sure why not and she said she’d make us Fesenjaan. I am excited and nervous because I don’t want it to be like what we’ve eaten so far.

How do killer traffic and gorgeous scenery coexist peacefully?

2005-11-23T16:07:00.000+03:30

Today I went to Mofid to check email in AliBob’s office and to check email for the first time (because frankly the internet at home connected and then didn’t open a single one of my pages, email or otherwise) and it was quite a walk. I can’t believe he does this walk every day. Or maybe I'm just a wuss. It took 35 minutes of brisk walking to get to the building. It’s 20-30 minutes to get to the University gates, but then it’s a 10-minute walk from the gates down the meandering drive to the building. The drive last time with the Khanum hadn’t seemed that long. I was sweaty and my feet were hurting by the time I got to the building. So much for bundling up in the desert cold.

Anyway, after I risked my life trying to cross the road just to get to Mofid’s grand gates (no really, I almost got hit by a pickup truck, then a motorcycle, then a car, consecutively because as usual there were 6 cars trying to drive side by side in 2 lanes and when I started the walk across, they appeared around the bend at high speeds and honking at me like their inability to drive properly was my fault), I walked on through and waved at the guards like I saw other people ahead of me do. But then, as I walked past, I heard a “Khanum, Khanum!” and of course I knew what was coming. I was stopped at the gates because the guards didn’t recognize me. I tried explaining that my husband is the American and his office is in there. I can’t speak Farsi though so all I managed to say was “my husband office there” and “my husband Robert Tappan, American.”
The two men conferred and figured out that I was the American’s wife. One said, “Mr. Robert?” and I said “yes!” and with a bebakhsheed (excuse me) and a salaam from them, I was on my way.

Email checking was not so fantastic because his connection was slow as molasses and I had lots and lots of emails and so I think I may have sent an email but I didn’t accomplish much more than that.

We decided it was time to go home and eat. I took a few quick pictures of the view from the 4th floor, the campus, and the driveway.

This is the picture from the corridor outside AliBob’s office.

I zoomed in on the hill and land to get a better view:

Here is the view from the 4th floor window facing straight out onto the campus and long driveway. That first mountain peak in the foreground (in the series of mountain peaks back there) is where our apartment is:

Along our walk back to the university, on the driveway, I took these two pictures. The second one shows how the trees are lined up so they can be watered easily.

Here is the view of the driveway facing towards the campus:

And here is a picture looking back at the Mofid gates:

Laundry, the Old Fashioned Way

2005-11-22T15:19:00.000+03:30

Today I attempted my first load of laundry. I think I was feeling inspired and energized because I finally had real food. It took 3 hours to wash just a few things and I was sore and my muscles were fatigued but hand washing is a good thing to learn. It’s also good to do this and appreciate things like washers and dryers and all the other automatic conveniences, whether they actually save time or not.

I didn’t have anywhere to hang them, so I found the 2nd warmest spot in the apartment (the 1st is actually in our living room and being as people drop by unexpectedly, we can’t have our under things dripping dry in the sun by the heater in plain sight), which is in the bedroom in the sun and near the gas heater. I improvised a line using dental floss (yes, I was quite proud of myself for that one) and managed to hang a few things up. Eventually I hung one thing too many and the line snapped. It all fell back into the puddles that had formed in the plastic bags I had spread out to catch the water. Ah, c’est la vie.

I definitely got pictures of this for two reasons: 1. Watch me in rare moments of domesticity and 2. Check out my dental floss line.

Here is some of our stuff toasting on the heater.

The aforementioned dental floss.

Bags on the floor and table and new garbage can being used to catch water. There was *a lot* of water because I just can’t get the same results as a spin cycle.

Comfort food

2005-11-21T15:13:00.000+03:30

Bread and cheese and jam and cream for breakfast, along with a bowl of turnips for me!! I’m not sick of them yet, although I can’t have huge quantities of them. I am a little worried because I’m not sure how I will eat a kilo of them on my own since AliBob is of no help here.

A good news update! The Khanum (Mrs. Elahi) took me to buy spices this afternoon. YAY! First we went to the University (my first time, even though Irfan Ali has been going for a few days now) and it’s beautiful! The view is, anyway. The campus is packed with trees and they’re working on cultivating gardens. From the 4th floor, where Dr. Elahi and Irfan Ali’s offices are, the view is amazing because of the stark contrast of the trees against the desert. In fact, there’s a craggy peaked hill right in the middle of the campus and the trees have been planted around it. I didn’t take any pictures today, but I will next time I go. I also didn’t visit Ali because we just wanted to get shopping. Dr. Elahi did come out of a meeting to greet me though, as did Mr. Ebrahimi, the administrator who took care of our apartment stuff and my “bridal” kitchenware stuff. I felt so honored.

It was also my first time venturing out to the Holy Shrine area. It’s amazing! I didn’t go to the shrine itself, but right around it is the “bazaar” with all kinds of stores and pilgrims from all over. I stick out a lot though because I seem to be the only woman not wearing chador. Even the foreigners wear chador.

There was a martyr’s courtyard (martyrs mostly from the Iran-Iraq war, but also many from the Shah’s time) with marble markers set flush against the ground, creating a whole marble floor. People walk on them as though it were just a regular floor. At first I tried to step on the cracks or the spaces between the markers out of respect for the dead buried underneath my feet, but it looked weird and was not sustainable for more than a few steps.

There were lots of people and this area truly looks like a crowded city center, unlike the quiet isolated suburbs where we live. There are huge vaulted barrel ceilings and bright lights displaying jewelry and pots and pans and shiny objects tourists will buy and knick-knacks and foods and snacks. Again, no pictures but I don’t feel comfortable yet and it was hard enough work trying to avoid getting run over (both by people and cars).

Most of the stalls did not have Indo-Pak spices but rather carried lots of Arab stuff (or one generic “curry spices” mix that they make themselves in layers and it looks like that sand art made of different colored layers of sand stuffed into glass bottles), but still I managed to find most of the basic spices I needed and even a few extras, though not all. It was from an Afghan vendor who spoke a little Urdu, enough to tell me the names of the spices in Urdu. I also bought (all dried) red lentils, garbanzos, kidney beans channa daal (which is split pea? it’s the legume that looks like half of a garbanzo), 2 big cans of tomato paste, and the Khanum recommended a good brand of pasta, so I picked up two packets of spaghetti.

The total was $10 and she made sure he gave me good prices, especially on the spices since she didn’t recognize and/or use most of them. I heard her arguing and telling him (I guessed from some of the words and tones and body language) that he’d better not screw me because I am a foreigner. He protested and swore he was a God-fearing man and wouldn’t do such a thing. He seemed nice, actually, and she seemed satisfied. She bought some nice wafers for us and insisted on carrying the heaviest groceries though I argued all the way back to the car. She is, incidentally, an excellent driver and maneuvers beautifully in the death trap they call traffic here.

Then, she also took me to where she buys her produce at excellent prices but deemed the vegetables not looking so fresh. We moved on to another store that sells mostly just herbs and that’s where I got my much-needed hot green chilies and cilantro. She also got me a handful of a bunch of other herbs that I vaguely recognized because she wanted me to try them.

We finally went to a meat store for me to buy chicken, and I realized then that they sell everything whole. I don’t know what to do with a whole chicken. I never cooked meat on my own because Irfan Ali’s a vegetarian, and in my mother’s house, I cook the meat that comes pre-cut and pre-cleaned. I asked for boneless chicken and he showed me a tiny frozen filet that was almost 4 dollars; too much even by American standards. She showed me fish, but again, it was whole (head, tail, scales and guts in tact) and I told her Irfan Ali doesn’t like fish and I don’t know how to prepare it looking like that.

Finally, embarrassed that we spent time in there but didn’t get anything, she bowed out very graciously and apologetically and I followed. She said she will show me how to prepare the chicken and the fish.

It was a productive day!! We came home later and even though I was so tired, I cooked the rest of the turnips into a salan with potatoes and browned onions (vegetable curry type thing), and I made good old khatti daal (a tart lentil curry that we’re hooked on, with lemon juice and tamarind). We used the rice that we’d had left over from our trips eating out. I’m not one to usually enjoy eating what I cook, but oh my God, tonight we were both in Paki food heaven… and I’m not even that great a cook! I think this is a good time for IrfanAliBob to appreciate all the brown food he had available in our house and all the things that my mom made that he sometimes didn’t even eat because he was dieting. At least now he knows he’s a food Paki. Actually, to be fair, for us, home food is good, but I’m a big fan of all the other Asian fare too. I crave Japanese and Chinese and Thai and Vietnamese on a near daily basis, even in the US.

Domestic haze

2005-11-20T14:29:00.000+03:30

Breakfast of champions today, with bread and cheese and jam and cream and tea… and turnips. Got different house ‘items’ today. I feel quite like the new bride. In fact, my pots said “Aroos Teflon”. “Aroos” means bride in Farsi. I got grain containers, vegetable baskets, two glass pedestal bowls (small and big), plates (3 different types), bowls (2 different sizes), a big bowl to match the plates/bowls, 6 salt and pepper shakers (not sure what the other 4 would be used for), an iron and ironing board, and a trash can. Observe my goods and share in my joy:

Here’s the ironing board. I love the picture. The lady is so stylish in her manteau and heels. Doesn’t she look like Rachael Ray (of 30-minute meals) in half hijab? That’s how I look too when I iron. Our iron is quite nice, one by Panasonic.

Ooooh, and today, IrfanAliBob brought home the famous “sangak”, which is cooked in a huge brick oven thingie (floor to ceiling) on hundreds of thousands of little stones and pebbles that are heated by an open fire. Then they whip it out of the oven and slam it onto a big mesh wire table to get the stones out. We pick whatever stone bit that hasn’t come off ourselves. So our dinner was a little more interesting. We had the sangak with our bread and cheese instead of the lavash. Much more filling.

This bread tastes fabulous and now I know why people love it so much. It makes the cheese taste so much better. The only problem is that it seems to dry out too quickly. It is made 3 times a day; 5-7 am, 11am-1pm, and 5-7pm. I guess we have to buy it fresh when we want it. Here’s a pic of a couple of pieces of fresh sangak, folded in half because it is quite long:

So tonight for his dinner it was *this* bread and cheese and jam and cream. I had the last of the tuna for dinner with the sangak, and then I had some jam and cream on bread for dessert. I also tried snacking on turnips throughout the day. Still yummy. Not filling enough for a meal though.

As you can also see above, AliBob had apple-banana juice. When we got here, they also provided us with a lot of juices and nectars. I’m not a huge fan of nectars and too much sugary fruity stuff, so he has been drinking those to help fill him up the past few days. My poor baby is starving.

[Sigh] I still don’t have Internet. I’m missing my family and I’m really missing Internet connectivity. At least we could be in touch that way. I’m also hungry for real substantial home food. Not snacks and a meal culled together from bits and pieces of different food items. Okay. I’m done whining.

Turnip Love 2

2005-11-19T14:23:00.000+03:30

We began our day today with bread, cheese, jam and cream, and tea. Also, fearing there is lots of turnip to eat and it will start molding if I don’t get started now, I ended up caving in and eating the turnip because I finally realize my body is starving and I came from overeating calorie-packed American food to having snacks for my meals. Having the flu isn’t helping either, although it has helped keep the appetite somewhat at bay.

Good news, the turnip is actually delicious! Apparently, after boiling, it takes on a sweet taste and its consistency is similar to that of mandioca, a food I remember having in Paraguay. Mandioca is a big sweet root with a brown hairy skin and white flesh that is poisonous unless cooked. I think it’s also known as cassava and it comes from the yucca family. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

Anyway, it was nice and sweet, and when salted, the sweet-salty flavor is delightful on the tastebuds. I was pleasantly surprised and am looking forward to adding it to our food repertoire. Ali Bob thinks it isn’t bad, but he doesn’t seem all that thrilled.

Lunch for AliBob was the last of the egg salad and then we went back to the bread, cheese, cream and jam. I actually also remembered today (yes, it took that long to remember) that my mom and dad (so far-sighted they are) had sent us with a few small prepackaged foods (salmon, tuna and pre-grilled lemon herb tuna fillets) just in case we didn’t have food so I made I used the tuna chunks to make a tuna salad for lunch. This one needs no draining and is ready to use. I made a mix with the mayo, salt and pepper. It was delicious, but the fantasy bread was ever harder and more stale tasting. AliBob hates fish (unless it’s super breaded and deep fried) so he was unable to partake. So now our menu includes boiled turnips, tuna mix and lavash, cheese, cream and jam.

We went for a little walk to the University together. Actually, we didn’t go through the gates, we just walked as far as the roundabout but didn’t cross. Quite a walk. Then we walked back. It’s fun, walking up and down these streets to explore. There isn’t that much, but it’s still interesting to see.
We saw a cyber-café, a few meat stores (no chicken or beef in sight it seems) and several restaurants. We are trying to keep track of the restaurants to see where we’d like to eat.

I also noticed lots of cute little gardens along the street. They have playground sets and benches and are quite well maintained. Very green, with pretty flowers and large trees. The street is also lined with young eucalyptus trees on either side.
Maybe the Qomis were inspired by the Ayatollah. Agha Katebi told us during our drive to Qom from the airport that the Grand Ayatollah Ardebili founded Mofid University in 1989 and he *loved* trees and nature, so he had lots and lots of trees planted all over the campus.

As we drove around with Dr. Elahi when he had taken us out, we noticed the outer walls of the university formed the dividing line between dense forest on one side (inside the university’s walls) and stark mountainous dusty desert on the other. It’s always so fun to see the two side by side. The Ayatollah was a smart man.

Anyway, I haven’t taken any pictures of the sights around our neighborhood, but I will at some point, when I feel a little less foreign.

On a funnier note, people have *really* been checking IrfanAli out. He’s this tall alabaster glow-in-the-dark hero and people stare and swoon. And then they look and me and it doesn’t seem to click for them. Why would this tall, handsome (?) foreigner be with a fat brown prune??? I don’t have the requisite porcelain skin or doe eyes needed in Persian culture (or brown or arab cultures for that matter), but that’s just the way of things. It annoys him to no end and I'm really enjoying his discomfort. mua. ha. [insert more maniacal laughter here]

We tried eating out again tonight because we still don’t have any food (except garlic and onions) to cook or Paki spices with which to cook. And yes, I know most people could probably whip up something amazing with all that stuff around, but I’m just not that amazing. I need lots of help.

Tonight we went to a pizza place a few blocks away and got takeout. We had high hopes and it smelled amazing. We were unable to finish the pizzas. The dough was quite good, as was the cheese. The problem was, there was no tomato sauce (which AliBob had warned me of) and it was STUFFED full of meat. There was lamb and chicken and sausage. The sausage was white in color and spongy in texture. They had topped the pizza with good veggies, and we tried just eating the veggies and cheese and the bread but there was actually so much meat that we weren’t able to successfully pick it out of the cheese and the bread tasted of sausage and lamb juice. It was another night of jam and cream and cheese and bread and tea for us, and the some more of the tuna mix for me. I also had some turnips throughout the day.

Rana and Barf

2005-11-18T18:22:00.000+03:30

It’s our first Friday here!! I’m not sure what that means, but it seems milestoney. Dr. Elahi and his wife Batool Khanum, and his two children Mahdi and Fatemeh came over to visit with us today. The Khanum showed me how to make Iranian style tea. Good thing too, because I would have made it way too strong for them. It’s so funny, I used 2 teabags for 6 cups of tea. And when she poured out the tea into the cups, it was still too dark, so she diluted it with the hot water from the samovar. So really, it was more like 2 teabags for a potential 12 cups. To be fair, the cups are pretty tiny.
Pakistanis would be horrified at the thought of such weak tea. It’s still good though, especially with 4 or 5 cubes of sugar. Then it's like a beautiful amber-crimson sugar water.

We talked for a while and it was nice. The Khanum (Khanum means Ms./Mrs.) said they make spaghetti, called “makaron”, so that’s something familiar I can get and make at some point.

She was very eager to know about the level of education of most people, particularly women, in America, and the status of education in general. Education is a huge deal in Iran, and in fact, ~70% of Iranian women are college educated. It quite outdoes the American statistic, whatever it may be. She seemed a little surprised. I guess when you see America on the news and hear about all these Americans doing big, important things and see that the US is the superpower, you assume its women must be inordinately educated too.

She and her daughter were both wearing chadors. While helping me with the tea, the Khanum was still able to keep her chador wrapped about her using her elbows as her hands filled the cups. Her daughter had a different one that seemed a little easier. It had sort of built-in arm holes which seems interesting and probably a little easier.

Then they left because the Khanum had to make lunch and Dr. Elahi said he’d come get us later to go for a drive around town.

In the interim, I boiled a few eggs and made a basic egg salad to eat in the fantasy bread roll or with the lavash for a little lunch to tide us over. Also, feeling bad about not having done anything with the turnip and reminded by the Khanum that it is indeed good for me during the flu, I finally chopped up and boiled the kilo (2.2 lbs) of turnip that Agha Katebi bought me. He did it out of his own generosity and thoughtfulness, and I didn’t want them to spoil. Up until then, they had been literally still sitting on the counter in the plastic grocery bag. I also made sure to inhale the steam as they cooked. I am dreading eating this turnip absolutely unflavored. So after boiling it, I stuck it in the fridge.

Dr. Elahi said he would come get us at 4:30, but he was a little late. Why? Because for his guests, he went and got his car washed and cleaned. He’s such a good man. It paid off, because the car was shiny as a new penny and spotless on the inside as well. We felt so special, though having this much of a big deal made of our presence is also kind of awkward and weird. We’re just two normal dorks who happen to be in Iran but people keep treating us like guests of honor.

Anyway, he took us to see Ayatollah Khomeini’s house. They call him Imam Khomeini, and I know it’s just a term of respect but he’s not really an Imam to me. The closest to being my Imam would be Imam Maged of ADAMS center in No. Va. He’s great, so I’ll keep him as my Imam.
Anyway, according to Lonely Planet Iran, “Surprisingly little fanfare surrounds the simple brick former residence of Ayatollah Khomeini… It was here that Khomeini lived – before being forced into exile – and built his power base among conservative clerics. ….there’s little to distinguish this house. It is not open to visitors and is of purely historic appeal.”

Dr. Elahi just walked in through the gates of the house and we just followed, so I suppose visitors can come. It was interesting, because, as the book said, it’s quite unremarkable. No swarms of people, no lines of tourists. No crowding inside. It’s not very big either. It has a small central courtyard with an 8-pointed star pool and some landscaping around here and there. We just saw the main rooms, most likely where guests would have sat. There were a couple of mullahs and people just praying and reading the Quran. Someone was giving a lecture or sermon and a 2 or 3 people were listening.

We saw Khomeini’s library area, which was small but filled with tomes of fancy sounding stuff. Then, we saw a little corridor that displayed all the stuff he’s written. There is lots and lots of it. He wrote everything from Quranic interpretations and explications of other religious texts to children’s books.

There was a call to prayer for Maghrib (sunset prayer) and they kicked us out because that’s when it closes.

Then we went for ice cream, “bastani”. The “regular traditional” flavor of ice cream is not vanilla (as I arrogantly thought all basic flavored ice creams of the world are and should be), it was a bright yellow gooey saffron flavored confection. It was actually good, though perhaps too sweet for me (yes, even for me) because I hadn’t eaten much except for cream and a sugary jam on top of it for the past 3 days.

Dr. Elahi also ordered us carrot juice, which turned out to be pure unsweetened carrot juice. It goes with the ice cream. Like a float, except it’s a saffron ice cream and carrot juice float and it actually was really good. The carrot juice (very refreshing) cuts the super sweetness of the ice cream.

Fatemeh (The Elahis' daughter) just got ice cream. I have to tell you about her. She’s delightful. When we first saw her we thought she might be 17 or 18. She’s taller than I am, very slender, lovely, and speaks very good English. She’s also outspoken and witty and opinionated and we love her. She’s also only 15. I can’t believe it. She is brilliant. She’s in high school, in the math and physics track. When I asked if there are any women at Mofid University, she immediately said “Of course! 2 or 3 of them.” Even with the language barrier and our newness around each other she managed to make a funny joke. So indeed, as she said, there are like 2 or 3 female professors, and about 300 female students out of 1000.

We also learned that Khanume Elahi is actually a lawyer. Get this: She got her associate’s degree, then met and married Dr. Elahi, had 5 kids, then went back to school and got her BA in public law and practiced for 10 years. 2 years ago, she got her Master’s in Law. She is actually on a 2-month hiatus while she sets up her private practice. *VERY* cool. She worked in the Women’s Affairs section of the office of the Provincial Governor of Qom.

When we got home, we were hungry for dinner and I tried my best to reconstitute the chelo kabob by frying lots of garlic and onions and putting in salt and pepper and leftover dill that I found in a cupboard and butter and yogurt and frying the rice along with it and turning the kabob into little grounds. It was still inedible so unfortunately, may we be forgiven for the waste, we had to toss it.

It was back to bread and cheese and jam and cream and tea and some more egg salad. Also, to supplement our meal, and because the fantasy rolls are really not that palatable, I cut them into thick round slices and turned two of them into Pakistani style French toast (because we *do* have milk, eggs, and some sugar). I must say they turned out fabulously! Because the bread is kind of hard and stale, it absorbed the wet mix well without collapsing. .

On a funny note, the mayonnaise and ketchup brand is Rana, which is my mom’s name. All our lives, her name meant “frog” in Spanish, but here, it’s considered a beautiful name. Yay for Rana the Beautiful.

Also, notice the name of the laundry detergent. Yes. It’s Barf. And, as it tells you, Barf means snow. Ahh, you gotta love foreign languages. Here are the instructions: Barf will get your clothes amazingly clean. To obtain best results of Barf, particularly for very dirty clothes, proceed as follows: Soak the clothes in a solution of Barf for a few hours of preferably overnight and then wash as usual. Use Barf for washing woolen, polyester cotton and fine fabrics. Barf is safe for all washable fabrics.
The commercial practically writes itself…”So just remember, a Barf solution will work wonders for your laundry. It did for mine. Barf, because cleanliness is Godliness.”

Turnip Love

2005-11-17T21:18:00.000+03:30

I woke up at 5am today, feeling awful. Agha Katebi came by, as promised, to take Ali around (It was an invite for us both but I was just too beat to do anything but take lots of medicine and sleep). They walked around our neighborhood and he showed Ali our grocery store, introduced him to the owner so they know him and know he’s a guest of Mofid and don’t rip him off because he’s a cute nice clueless white guy. He also took him to the neighborhood breadmaker, the noonwallah.

Agha Katebi is so generous and thoughtful. He bought me a kilo of turnips because from what he said, turnips or “shalgham” are very good for colds and flus. He instructed Ali to have me quarter them and boil them, and breathe in the steam as they cook.

Kudos to my Alijooon, for having the mental energy and fortitude to actually wake up and get ready and walk around doing all that stuff. I couldn’t even imagine being conscious, let alone showered and ready to be social.

Later on, Agha Katebi came again and took Ali to the Holy Shrine. Again, I was asleep. (Just remember, Sara=sick with flu.)
Ali said it was great, but he’ll tell you all about that. He did say there were lots of pilgrims, so it would be likely that I would find Pakistani spices in some of the stalls in that bazaar.

Tonight, we made a quick jaunt to our “super market”. Cute term. It’s more like a room, 8ft by 12ft, but it sure packs a wallop in terms of goods. We got some apples, this hoagie/sub roll type bread (4 6-inch rolls in one packet), eggs, salt and pepper, mayonnaise (which they even have in huge vats here), yogurt, rice, a few tomatoes, a few potatoes, garlic and milk. Incidentally, the hoagie/sub roll type bread, referred to as Fantasy Bread or “Noon-e-Fantazi” isn’t all that fantastic.

We also got Iran’s famous chelo kabab at a restaurant here. Chelo kabab is basically ground up spiced meat (beef or lamb) grilled on a skewer served on a bed of rice. I’ve had a Paki version of this (seekh kabab) and it’s absolutely fabulous. We were in for a huge shock when we realized it was awful.

First off, it was lamb meat. I thought I actually like lamb/mutton, because we eat it in my culture and I like all the stuff my mom makes with it. However, this was awful. The meat was smelly and too “flavorful”, and there wasn’t enough spice to cover up the smell of meat. (It’s a South Asian trick, spice the crap out of the meat with garlic, ginger, chili powder, turmeric, salt, etc., until you can’t really taste the meat part of it anymore.)

I had a bite and a half or so. And some of the rice. Bobali was braver and managed to finish all of his kabob. He felt quite ill though.

So we still haven’t eaten too much. Thank goodness they gave us some bread, jam, cream and the cheese. We’ve been using those for all of our meals/snacks, so far. The only problem is they’re not very substantial over several days. I LOVE the unsweetened cream, but it’s 30g of fat in half of a little container. I’m not sure how that will work out. I’m hungry and know I won’t be much of a cook so that will help us both lose weight, but I’ll be supplementing my diet with loads and loads of cream.

Ironically, food was the last thing we expected to be a problem. We’ve both had Iranian food before and it’s pretty awesome, so we thought, no problem, at least we won’t starve.

We're Here!

2005-11-16T21:29:00.000+03:30

We’re here!!!!!!!! Okay. I’m writing this a little after when we got here, but who knows when I’ll post it. No internet yet. But I want to document this before I forget.
I was pretty sick by the time we got in. I think at this point I have something akin to the flu, because of the chills/sweats, the body aches, the nausea, and the head cold thingy. Most of it seems to have gone by in a blur but here are the highlights:
We landed around 7am. Here’s the view out of the plane at 6:50am:

(I tried to get a good picture of the moon still high in the Iranian sky through the airplane window, but those darn life-saving windows aren’t the best for photography. I think the date is a day off on the camera clock, but I think it’s fixed as of the 23rd onward.)

Here is another pic of Tehran. Again, they’re not the clearest, but you can still see the mountains in the city:

Anyway, as expected, we were asked to please step aside and sit down after the airport officials saw our American passports. We sat with another couple, American, of course. They were newlywed Mormons who were taking an extended tour/vacation/honeymoon of Europe, Asia and a final stop in Iran, because the person who introduced them was Iranian. The wife unit of the couple does something public health in developing countries-ish and the husband unit is a lawyer. Both from Utah, living in DC. Very cute.

Anyway, we didn’t wait too long, honestly. Only about 20 minutes or so, before someone came out and handed us our passports and told us welcome to Iran. AliBobba and I are assuming that it was short because the Iranian government probably already knows EVERYTHING it could possibly want to know about us. They’ve probably got our apartment bugged too. Whatever, it’s all good.

The airport wasn’t crowded and the temperature outside was beautiful. My first thought was “I’m home.” I’m not sure why, since I’ve never been to Iran, but something about it reminded me of arriving in Karachi for vacation when I was little. Karachi is full of happy memories. Anyway, this was distinctly third-world-esque. I’m not sure what about it gives it that feel, probably the cars and the flora/fauna and the people and the overpowering smell of diesel in the air. It’s pretty clean though. Cleaner than Delhi, Karachi, and Cairo, but not as clean as Kuala Lumpur and Singapore (hah, I can’t remember the capital of Singapore). It was fun. And nice to have sun on my face after a dreary and ridiculously cold day in London. The one thing that stood out and yet seemed too familiar were the chador-clad women. It’s familiar because in western media, that’s all we see. Women shrouded in their black as death tents scurrying about the country. It’s different to see it in person though. It was interesting to watch, fascinating actually. More on chadors later.

Our suitcases were in tact and easy to find (they were the only ones left on the conveyor belt) and Agha Katebi was waiting for us at the door. He is an administrator at Mofid University and also teaches high school Biology on Saturdays and Sundays. He is such a nice man. Anyway, all our suitcases didn’t fit into the car, so he had someone take 2 of them to Mofid’s Tehran office while we packed the rest in and were on our way. He said they’d get to us in a couple of days, which was fine by us.

The traffic is just mind-boggling. Or maybe it’s the driving. Maybe that’s what gives it the 3rd world feel, because despite the existence of lanes and traffic lights and other important traffic pattern aids, people drive basically wherever there is space, just honking their way through. Pedestrians do not have the right of way, and I am impressed with their ability to dodge cars and trucks and motorcycles. I saw more women in chador, but also quite a few women in manteau and the sliding headcover that shows half the hair, which Tehranians wear around town without the chador.

It was about a 2-hour drive and they took us straight to our apartment.
This is a roadside mosque/rest area for travelers that just tickled me pink… we need more of these in the US:

As we got into Qom, I noticed that women all wore chador. I still caught glimpses of stylish heels and pants as the chador fluttered around their legs, but it’s much more conservative here and as such, more ubiquitously chadory. If I haven’t put up pictures, it’s because I was too ill or there wasn’t a good opportunity to take any.

In the apartment, there was breakfast and a teapot with teabags and a samovar full of water waiting for us. We have 2 satellite dishes and a flat screen TV.

Ohhh.. and, get this, our bed is actually two twin beds. That wouldn’t be such a huge deal, except the mattresses are sunken into wooden frames, so when you have the two beds side by side, there is a wood frame all around each bed. So it’s not really like one bed, but just like two beds adjacent to each other. It’s interesting and I can see it being a problem. Anyway, Agha Katebi said he’d bring us by lunch later and he’d be by the next day to show AliBobba around the neighborhood. We had breakfast and took a nap.
That’s breakfast below. Sour cherry “murabba-e-albaaloo” preserve (delicious), unsweetened cream “khameh”, biscuits, a flatbread called “lavash”, white cheese “paneer safeed”, and water.

I think later on that day, someone delivered our suitcases to us, which was a pleasant surprise. Also, they dropped off lunch for us at some point. It was a lemon-herb grilled chicken on rice with dried barberries (zereshk), with a big fat side of plain yogurt (when I tasted it later on, it was all really good). I didn’t end up eating lunch and slept straight through it all. Bobali took care of everything else, like answering the door and stuff.

Later on that evening, we tried watching some TV, and we have 500 or so channels because of the satellite dishes. The thing is, we’ve only found 3 channels in English. There is BBC World, which doesn’t work too well, there’s CNN International, also not working well, and there’s BBC Prime, which doesn’t seem to have anything interesting on.

There are lots of Arabic channels from all over, several Iranian ones, of course, several music channels (Turkish and Persian music channels), Russian and Eastern European channels, and a Pakistani channel that broadcasts out of the UK. Oh.. and there is also an extraordinary number of porn channels (with ridiculously awful names too). Those are all blocked.

After having slept about 4 hours in 3 days, and not bathing, we felt absolutely yuck. But a nap and our first shower in Iran worked wonders. It was fantastic. It was funny though, because we had not yet adjusted to the salty water, so after we were done, our eyes and mucous membranes felt like we’d spent the day at the beach.

Here are a few pics of our apartment and surrounding areas. Enjoy!

Our back yard. Barren and gorgeous and fascinating. Yes, it’s extremely dusty but how cool is being able to have desert mountains in your backyard? People climb these on Fridays. Picnics, camping and mountain climbing are very popular activities on the weekend.

There are pomegranate trees in the courtyard out back. I’m not quite sure the pomegranates are edible since they look quite picked apart by all the birds that come here to feed. Later I learned that each little plot corresponds to the 4 apartments in each building. So I guess we get our own little gardening plot.

View from our front door into our dining room (from what I’ve seen, other people use this space as their family room, with carpets and cushions and computer etc.). There are lots of doors separating all the different chambers. I suppose this helps with gender segregation and the women can slip around the inner chambers (kitchen, bedrooms, family/dining room) while men can enter and go left to the living room. There is a door that connects this dining room to the living room as well, allowing a direct path from kitchen (on the right) to the living room (on the left).
The two bedrooms and the shower room are at the far end of the dining room, to the left and right of the windows you see ahead. The windows look out into a tiled courtyard type thing with a skylight above. It helps bring natural light into this inner room, as well as in the shower room whose windows you can see outside on the right.

This view looks into our toilet/sink room. As you may be able to tell, this is immediately on the right upon entering the apartment. I am in the foyer/entrance as I take this picture. Again, this allows guests to use the restroom without going into the inner, more private chambers of the house. The shoe rack you see is typically kept outside of the apartment, with all the shoes on it. Whereas in the US, we (we Pakis anyway) take our shoes off inside the house in some designated shoe area or foyer, in Iran they take their shoes off before even entering through the front door.

Our kitchen. It’s huge. Those windows look out to the front of our building. That’s a stove on top of the counter. It has two regular burners and one big burner in the center for big pots of rice. And that’s the big old water heater. I do *love* the dishrack above the sink. What an ingenious and functional way to use vertical space while allowing dishes to drip dry back into the sink without using counter space or having to clean out an unsightly rubber drip tray.

This is our shower room. Kind of icky, but they use flip flops *without* fail in the toilet, the shower, and the kitchen ( a different pair for each room). That blue basin is our washing machine.

Our guest room, which faces the front of the building. Two of our suitcases too.

The view of the front out of our guest room, which is blurry because of the dust on the windows.

Our bedroom. They gave us huge towels which dry us well but are quite heavy when wet and left dye and fuzz all over us. I was red and IrfanAliBob was bluish-purple. Also, notice the two beds joined up. Yes, that wooden frame does indeed run all the way around and sticks up above the mattress when we lie down on the bed. Yes, after much trying to get around it (blankets on the wood, shifting pillows, etc.), we each now sleep in our own bed. (Mine is the pink side!)

Quran Fair... and guess who the guests of honor were?!

2005-11-11T23:39:00.000+03:30

Grammar class wasn’t so great, as usual. People still have varying levels of skill. And teaching adults is definitely not the same as teaching kids, and yet I do have 3 kids in the class. Should I go slower? Faster? Follow the book only and not try and help with supplementary information?

Anyway, after the class, Dr. and Mrs. Elahi took us to a Quran Fair. It was great. 28 countries (16 Muslim countries, 12 Non-Muslim countries) had participated, including some joint efforts like between the UAE and Germany. We got to see a genuine copy (that term always cracks me up) from Turkey of Prophet Muhammad’s seal. The original is in a museum in Turkey. There was hand etched glass in the form of vases and bowls and paperweights and prisms and even a glass hand etched Quran sitting open in its stand.

I tried taking some pictures but too much glass and plastic cause glare and reflection.

Irfan Ali was a hit there and people, once again, were straining their necks to get a look at him. Giggling ladies and curious old women and men. The guy in charge of the fair (dressed in the ayatollah garb) gave us a personal tour of the main exhibition and we had someone talking to us and explaining each artifact to us. The artisanship there was just amazing.

We got there at around 8pm, and the exhibit was closing at 9, so he told us at around 8:40 to go upstairs and check out the stalls there because there was good stuff there too. We first stopped at a carpet stall and finally got our first glimpse of a Qomi silk carpet. I must say, it is quite gorgeous, incredibly soft, and somewhat different than the Persian carpets we’re used to seeing. It was also smaller and these tend to be for wall hanging, not for floor covering. It cost 350,000 Toman, which is 3.5 million Iranian Rials, which is about $350, which isn’t bad at all.

Again, I wasn’t able to get a good picture. The stalls weren’t too well lit.

We went upstairs and the art there was more Ahlul Bayt (Shia) devotional work than the mainstream Allah/Mohammad/Quranic stuff downstairs. There were also quite a bit of Iranian cultural handicrafts. Both were amazing. Beautiful scenes recreating Kerbala and Ashura were painted on velvet or inlaid in wood or cut out and formed into dioramas, and there were also wood carvers (mostly women artisans, which was very good to see), and there was one calligraphy stall where the girl did stunning work and she wrote our names for us. The director of the fair also gifted us (mostly gifted Ali) with a really cool coffee table book with pictures and elevations of all the mosques in Iran, which is definitely an awesome souvenir. It’ll have to be mailed back because it’s heavy.

Then in another stall, the Mrs. Mir Mohammadi (who came with us to the fair and is in my grammar class) told the lady to make me something quickly. Since the stalls were mostly closing down, the vendor quickly found a heart-shaped wood cutout and found a cutout of “Muhammad” in a darker wood and glued it onto the heart. I’m most excited with my keepsakes.

As we walked on, we realized we were the only ones left there and turns out that for their special American studying Islam in Qom, they had kept the building open for us. *Very* cool. Definitely don’t see that happening in the US for anyone. Because we are guests, we are treated with so much deference and honor. Well… Ali is the honored guest, and I’m his Pakistani wife. Pakistanis aren’t unusual here. Haha.. I think my secret (I’m not Shia!) is out, but no one has really changed their behavior toward me, which makes me feel even worse about the way Sunnis talk about Shias.

After we were done with our tour, with our tiny entourage of security and admin people following us, they asked us to write a remembrance on some paper. I wrote in decent handwriting and Ali wrote in chicken scratch. Muahaha. Except he kept his writing straight, and mine was all sloping uphill and downhill. I never quite mastered that whole writing straight without lines thing.

Then we went downstairs and waited for the Director of the Fair to finish his speech or lecture to all the vendors and stall people in the fair, and we met the PR head for the Fair. We relaxed and took a few pictures and then some news agency people came to interview Irfan Ali. There was a camera and a tape recorder and everything. In fact, there were 3 cameras. Two personal digital cameras and one big video camera.

So with Dr. Elahi as translator, the reporter asked Irfan Ali questions on his opinion of the fair, Iran and Iranians, Islam in America, Iranians in America, doing da’wah (proselytizing) in America. For a few of them, I felt the need (as usual) to butt in and put in my 2 cents but I felt kind of embarrassed because the interview is for Irfan Ali. But then when I stopped interjecting, he would ask me my opinion and then I would have no idea what to say.

I must say I learned something new about Dr. Elahi last night. The man has a photographic memory. He would memorize our answers in English, and then almost verbatim repeat them to the reporter. Keep in mind, our responses were quite wordy. I know I don’t understand Farsi, but I could tell by the words that I did get and the order in which they came that he really was relaying everything. Irfan Ali confirmed my suspicion. *Very* impressive. We really got lucky with Dr. Elahi and his “Elahi’s Army”.

Here we are, with the reporter/interviewer (right of us) and videographers:

We got home at 11:15pm and were hungry for dinner. We’d already had dinner at 5:45 though and there was nothing else to eat. I’m still working on that whole cooking lots of stuff and having lots of leftovers thing.

Fine-tuning

2005-11-07T18:08:00.000+03:30

Annonymous posting is now enabled--no need to make a Google/Blogger account to leave comments.

Be sure and browse the links to the right--lots of interesting info on Iran.

Khoda Hafez!

2005-11-04T17:00:00.000+03:30

Hello Everyone,

For those who don't know, "khoda hafez" means "good-bye" (lit: "God protect you") in Persian, and with a slight twist in pronunciation, in Urdu as well.

We have finally earned the right to say this as we have rebooked our tickets after receiving the best assurances possible that we will be able to secure our long-term visas once in Iran. So we depart on Monday, November 14th and are just waiting for the new tickets to reach our hot little hands.

In the meantime Sara will probably continue sleeping late and I will continue pulling out my hair trying to wrap up various overdue articles and making sure I have all the relevant supporitng materials for my dissertation research, that I can find, anyway.

Our love to all.

Let's try this again...

2005-11-02T16:07:00.000+03:30

Hello and Salaam/Peace to our friends and family,

After many more delays and ups and downs, it looks like we are about to leavefor Iran! No, really...seriously this time.

We actually have our visas and are just nailing down the final details now. We made a slight change in location and will be based in Qom (a few hours outside of Tehran), rather than in Mashhad.

Please browse the links when you can to learn more about Qom, Iran, and the places we'll be staying and the things we'll be doing.

We called the blog "Sweet Sohan" because, while people often think of religious seminaries, the Iranian revolution and whatnot when they hear "Qom", there is much more to the city than that. Besides the famous shrine of Fatima al Kubra, Imam Reza's sister, Qom is also known for its Persian carpets and its salty tap water(!). Perhaps nearly as famous are its sweets, one of which is sohan, a peanut brittle-esque concoction made with pistachios and saffron.

We hope whatever words and pictures we post here will be just as sweet for you.

~Irfan Ali/Robert and Sara