From Iran to America: Mahnaz and Shirin -- A Love Story

By Reza Mashayekhi

This fictional story is loosely based on true events that have taken place beginning in the 1950's in Iran and continuing up until the present in the United States.

Some of these events happened in the author’s life, and the rest are what he is aware of. The story is delivered in the first person, however, and fictional elements and characters have been incorporated, in order to better convey the author’s intended message in a smooth storyline.

The main purpose of the book is to provide the reader a window into some aspects of life and upbringing in the Middle East, and especially in Iran. In addition, the author hopes to raise awareness of some issues faced by foreigners in America and in other countries worldwide.

The recounting of real events in a human life invariably includes moments of sadness. In order to strike a balance, a conscious effort has been made to add elements of humor even amid dire circumstances.

For the benefit of readers who are not native English speakers, and in keeping with the author’s fascination with idioms and expressions, an additional index has been included to help the reader understand expressions encountered in this book which may not be familiar.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reza Mashayekhi
• Release date: Oct 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9780982773642

Reza Mashayekhi

Reza Mashayekhi was born and raised in Tehran, Iran. He later attended the University of Michigan, where he received a degree in aerospace engineering.He has been a consulting engineer in San Diego, but his true passion now is writing and directing. Frustrated by the practical limitations of engineering, he sometimes uses fiction as a far less constrained medium of expression to help him give life to his thoughts and far-reaching imagination. His writings are mostly inspired by true events. "I start writing about them," he says, "and then let my imagination take over."Reza has always been interested in learning the intricacies of the English language and, alongside of his engineering work, he has taught English to non-English speakers.Reza’s interactions with his students and clients, has also led to the compilation of a book of English idioms and expressions, aptly titled: English Idioms And Expressions For Everyone, Yes, Even You! His experience as a non-native speaker of English living and working in the U.S., makes this book uniquely interesting AND useful for both native AND non-native English speakers. He says, "I truly believe a print copy of this book belongs on every coffee table."

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My sincere thanks to author Vida Mashayekhi, whose writings have inspired me, and whose encouragement has been the driving force behind the publication of this book. Thank you also to my friends Alan Schretzmann, whose encouraging comments paved the way for this project to come to life, and Guiti Adish and Behnam Bakhshandeh, who helped me with their constructive comments.

Christine Miller did the editing and proofreading of the book, smoothing out the numerous sharp edges that one is bound to make while writing. If the sentences in this book don’t confuse you, it’s because of Christine’s efforts.

My special thanks to Master Ali Bozorgmehr, famed Iranian artist, for allowing me to include a few of his lyrical paintings in this book.

The beautiful and expressive cover design was done by Tonja Daniels. With this cover design, I asked myself, Do we really need Foreword anymore?

Azita Mousavi and Sarah Arakaki did the wonderful job of converting my ideas into illustrations.

Persian handwriting was beautifully done by calligrapher Nahid Ghaderi.

Mojgan Mehran did the still photography, putting a smile on my face in the process.

I also owe my gratitude to the late author/publisher Dan Poynter, whose many publications have helped me and many others find success as authors without relying on traditional publishing houses.

Please see the Appendix for available contact information.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Reza Mashayekhi is an engineering consultant who, frustrated by the practical limitations of engineering, uses writing as a far less constrained medium of expression. Going beyond the concrete, Reza’s words give life to his thoughts and far-reaching, vivid imagination.

In this book, he takes you back to his childhood in Iran, and later to his youth as a foreigner in America. What we see through the author’s experiences is that whatever our nationality or place of birth, none of us is exempt from the peculiarities of the human condition, in all their glorious and inglorious detail. His stories inform, fascinate, and evoke laughter, compassion, and tears.

Reza was born, reared, and educated in Tehran, Iran. He later attended the University of Michigan, where he received a degree in Aerospace Engineering.

Alongside his career as an engineer, Reza has taught English to non-English speakers, and acts as a consultant to assist people with their language skills for special events, such as public speaking presentations, and in their day-to-day conversation.

His background as a non-native English speaker living and working in the U. S., and his experiences interacting with students and clients over the years, has also led him to publish a book of English idioms and expressions.

FOREWORD

As thought-provoked people, we always have a tendency to compare things, or even simply observe their differences. When traveling to different countries, or different regions of the same country, we have an even greater abundance of opportunities to make such comparisons, especially with regards to customs.

As a foreign-born-and-raised person who has lived in the United States for more than half of my life, I’ve had more than my share of such experiences—directly and indirectly through others. I always wanted to write about them, but could not find a way to do it that I was comfortable with.

But then, through the magic of the Internet and Facebook, I located a friend of mine whom I knew from my time in Hawaii way back when. He now lives in Alaska, but we arranged to meet in Los Angeles when he came to visit his father, and we plan to do it again whenever he comes back for visits.

The way I made contact with Steve gave me an idea for putting my thoughts and experiences together and into words, the compilation of which is presented here.

The contents are loosely based on my personal experiences, and those of others that I’m aware of, sprinkled with fictional situations and characters here and there. The names have been changed to protect the innocent—and some guilty ones, too!

The title of the book is self-explanatory, I hope. The subtitle, Mahnaz and Shirin, however, is a play on, and a tribute to, Khosrow and Shirin, a famous, centuries-old Persian romance. But the similarity ends there.

Shirin in Persian means sweet, which is in sharp contrast to the fictional character in the book. Mahnaz, on the other hand, is not so easy to translate. I chose it because it’s a beautiful name, and it suits the character that I had in mind.

The purpose of the book is to give the non-Iranian reader a new window through which to look at some of the goings-on and ways of thinking in Iran and other parts of the Middle East, as experienced by someone who has lived through them but who also understands the Western culture. It also reveals some of what foreigners go through when they study or live the United States.

Incidentally, I hope the book will bring back a few fond memories for the Iranian reader and others with Middle Eastern backgrounds and experiences.

From a broader perspective, however, this book might help bring about a sense of tolerance toward those whom we don’t quite understand.

The fact is, we have a natural fear of the unknown. We are afraid of what we don’t understand. But we can try. I’m a great believer that a large number of problems in the world exist as a result of miscommunication between individuals, families, countries, … and the list goes on. In my own small way, I try to raise this point whenever I can: in conversations, in what I write, and so on.

I have written a book titled English Idioms and Expressions for Everyone, Yes, Even You! Therein, too, I have mentioned this belief, and shown that not being familiar with expressions in another language can cause problems, sometimes even tragic ones. Far more catastrophic, however, and perpetrated on a much larger scale, is the lack of understanding of other religions and cultures, and what they entail.

What prompts me to talk about this is the series of events that occurred in the Middle East following the Internet release of a movie trailer that was disrespectful of the Prophet Mohammad, and other, similar incidents such as the burning of the Quran and publication of derogatory cartoons, books, etc.

The average Westerner is surprised at the extent and depth of anger felt by the average Moslem, and the average Moslem is surprised and frustrated that the Western governments don’t try to stop such acts. Why? Because neither side fully understands where the other side is coming from.

Remember, though, average is the key word. The not-so-average people know exactly what is happening and, unfortunately, some of them use this knowledge to fan the fire and thereby further their own agenda.

A deep understanding of the situation can take years, and is not something that can be accomplished here. But I’ll try to point out the major points, and hope that I can convey the general idea. Take my word for it—I have lived, studied, researched, and worked in both places for many, many years.

Imagine my shock when, during my early years in Michigan, I saw a flyer promoting a play on campus that was about a debate between Snoopy and Jesus! I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Iran is a majority Moslem country, but other religions are also respected, and so are their prophets, including Jesus Christ. I like Snoopy, and I’ve quoted him on many occasions (My mother didn’t raise me to chase sticks!), but the character is still a dog. And putting a prophet at the same level as a dog seemed insulting to me. I was truly surprised, but when I mentioned this to my classmates, they thought nothing of it.

Nowadays, I’m not surprised about such things, but that’s because I’ve been here for a long time. I have become desensitized, so to speak. But something like the flyer I mentioned would still raise eyebrows in the Middle East because it’s considered to be disrespectful of a prophet. And if one were talking about Prophet Mohammad, the reaction would be much more serious.

The fact is, Moslems have the deepest respect and love possible for Prophet Mohammad. He is looked upon as God’s last messenger. When his name is mentioned, it’s accompanied with a special greeting. When Moslems talk about his hardships, sometimes they cry. (When I was a kid, I was sorry that I hadn’t been around to have fought alongside him!) The signs of deep reverence for him go on and on.

It’s the same idea regarding the Quran. People are supposed to be clean when they hold it in their hands, or when they read it. (Not hygienically, but clean in the religious sense, a thorough explanation of which is beyond the scope of this discussion. ) They’re not supposed to touch the written text, and the book shouldn’t be put on the floor. Some people don’t even keep a copy in their bedroom, because it would be disrespectful to lie down in its presence.

When someone is exposed to this kind of upbringing, it’s easy to understand their extreme reaction to things they consider disrespectful of their prophet or holy book. Not only that, they believe that such insulting actions have the blessing of the Western governments. Think about it … Middle Easterners have lived under one form of dictatorship or another all their lives. In these countries, everything that sees the light of day has to be approved by the government. It is therefore only natural for them to assume, or be led to assume, that governments are involved in all things. This is how they’re conditioned, so much so that these beliefs have become instinctive. It’s in them.

Thinking about all of this, I’m reminded of an amazing scene I once witnessed.

On my lunch break one day, I was sitting inside my car. After finishing my sandwich, I gazed out the window at a large number of blackbirds—maybe several hundred of them—perched nearby on a few parallel power lines.

As I was admiring the birds, a hawk came along and landed on top of the adjacent power pole. The hawk didn’t attack the blackbirds, nor land among them or even close to them. But as if a switch had been flipped, they all took off and flew away. All at the same time.

I looked back to see if the hawk was going after them. It was not. It was just sitting there, looking in another direction. But it was in them to fear for their life and fly away.

I have seen similar conditioning among Westerners, too.

When I was working in Iran, we had a representative visiting from a major American aircraft manufacturing company. We were talking about politics one day, and I mentioned how most Iranians were unhappy with the Shah. He asked me, very innocently, why our representatives and senators didn’t ask the Shah to turn over the throne to his son!

Here was an educated man who had travelled to various countries and seen the world. But being raised in a democratic society, his political mindset was so deeply rooted, he couldn’t appreciate that things worked differently in a dictatorship.

So how, then, can we expect people who have never experienced democracy to know the ways of democracy?

Free speech and democracy appeal to the people in the Middle East, as they would to anybody. It’s only natural. But never having enjoyed them, they are not familiar with the implications or limitations of these ideals. They don’t understand that a president can’t simply stop the production of a movie or the printing of a magazine.

All this confusion could be lessened with improved communication between the two cultures, with the goal of better understanding on both sides. But in the absence of communication, perhaps simply having more tolerance would help to some extent. Again, on both sides.

I have seen many news clips similar to the following: Coalition soldiers kick a door open, go into a house in Iraq or Afghanistan with their weapons, ready to shoot, while a dog sniffs everything—including the Quran—looking for explosives. The inhabitants watch in fear, clinging to each other.

You can’t blame the soldiers, because they don’t know who or what is waiting for them inside the dwelling. But when I see something like this, I know for sure that the frightened people inside will become more receptive to propaganda by Al Qaeda, the Taliban, or whoever. This shouldn’t surprise anyone if you take into account the fact that practicing Moslems clean themselves before handling the Quran, and dogs are considered naturally dirty in the Middle East—if a dog licks you or sniffs you, you’re supposed to go clean yourself!

Having your dog sniff someone’s Quran is not a good way of asking for cooperation in that part of the world. And, similarly, killing people that you are angry with is not a good way of showing your anger anywhere. We need more understanding, and we need it on both sides.

In reality, full and mutual understanding of each other will never occur. However, it may be a good idea to at least practice some tolerance, as once urged by a man named Rodney King.

Rodney King was a troubled, but basically good man who had his own demons and was in and out of trouble throughout his life. When I wrote the paragraph below as part of this Foreword, he was alive, but he died shortly thereafter. I hope he has found peace wherever he is now.

At the height of the Los Angeles riots in 1992, Rodney King said something very simple. What he said was ridiculed by a number of people because he wasn’t an educated man, but it left a heartfelt impression on many others, including myself, and has been quoted numerous times since then.

He said, Can’t we all just get along?

Reza Mashayekhi

San Diego, California

ABOUT THE BOOK

This fictional story is loosely based on true events that have taken place beginning in the 1950's in Iran and continuing up until the present in the United States. Some of these events happened in the author’s life, and the rest—the majority—are what he is aware of. Fictional elements and characters have been incorporated in order to better convey the author’s intended message in a smooth storyline.

The main purpose of the book is to provide the reader a window into some aspects of life and upbringing in the Middle East, and especially in Iran. In addition, the author hopes to raise awareness of some issues faced by foreigners in America and in other countries worldwide.

The recounting of real events in a human life invariably includes moments of sadness. In order to strike a balance, a conscious effort has been made to add elements of humor even amid dire circumstances.

For the benefit of readers who are not native English speakers, and in keeping with the author’s fascination with idioms and expressions, an additional index has been included to help the reader understand expressions encountered in this book which may not be familiar.

DEDICATION

Malala Yousafzai, a Pakistani schoolgirl who was shot by the Taliban when she was only fifteen years old because of her activism for girls’ education;

Nujood Ali, a ten-year-old Yemeni girl who, against all odds, was able to obtain a divorce from a man she was forced to marry;

Gul Meena, a seventeen-year-old Pakistani girl who was attacked by her brother, and left for dead, in an attempted honor-killing incident;

And:

Abused children and orphans of the world,

past and present.

You can help, and it’s easy; visit the following sites:

www.SaveTheChildren. org

www.WomenForAfghanWomen. org

www.DirectRelief. org

You may also use the following sites to find other trustworthy organizations:

www.CharityWatch. org

www.CharityNavigator. org

OUT OF THE PAST

Shaken, or Stirred?

It was an ordinary day in San Diego and Cyrus had done his share of writing for the day. He walked around the house for a while, re-heated his cup of coffee, and then sat down at the computer to see if there were any new pictures posted on Facebook—you know, a cute cat sleeping in the arms of a big dog, a monkey taking a peek under a woman’s skirt, that kind of thing.

He didn’t usually spend much time on Facebook. As a matter of fact, he had only joined Facebook recently. He wasn’t one to quickly embrace new technological phenomena, maybe because he didn’t know much about them, or maybe because they changed so fast. By the time he got to know the ins-and-outs of something, it was usually obsolete. So, he’d say to himself, maybe next time.

Cyrus had joined Facebook only because someone had said it would be good for marketing his books. He had yet to see any marketing benefits, but it sure was great for something else: Locating old friends.

One of the best things about Facebook is the fact that you seem to be aware of what’s going on in your friends’ lives without bothering them and without them bothering you. You know how it is when you leave your hometown, where most of your friends and family live? Or when you get laid off from a company where you have made quite a few friends? You always say you’ll keep in touch, but after a while, you don’t remember most of them, sometimes not even the ones you do want to remember.

Thanks to Facebook, this doesn’t have to be the case anymore. You can now remember all your friends and family, and keep tabs on them for as long as you want. Unless, of course, they unfriend you. That is not good!

You may have several hundred Facebook friends, but personally know only a small number of them. Still, when someone you don’t even know unfriends you, it hurts. It really shouldn’t, but it does. You feel as if you’ve failed them in some way. It’s frustrating, too, because you don’t even know why they did it. There’s no way to say, Could we at least talk about it?

Once Cyrus learned a few things about Facebook, he started locating some of his old friends—some of them from his school days whom he hadn’t seen for years. When he saw their pictures, however, he was surprised. My, how could they have changed so much, he thought, and looked in the mirror at his own familiar face. "Thank God I haven’t changed," he congratulated himself. But then he remembered a story:

At a school reunion, a guy is looking for an old high school girlfriend who broke his heart once, hoping to re-start the old relationship. He finally sees her, but he’s surprised because she looks so old. At the same time, he feels relieved that he himself doesn’t look that old.

Disappointed that she has changed so much, he thinks of turning around, but it’s too late. She is looking his way. So he approaches her and introduces himself with a forced but somewhat confident smile.

Hi, Susan, remember me? I’m George.

Who?

George. You were in my class.

Really? What class were you teaching?

Cyrus’s confidence was somewhat shaken when he remembered the story. But that didn’t stop him from looking for more old friends, and learning more about Facebook.

Then some of the new Friends that he didn’t even know wanted to chat with him, sometimes just as he was about to leave the house, or go to bed.

He also got caught in the constant barrage of messages, event announcements, comments, invitations, and postings, a lot of them unnecessary, and some of them plain stupid.

Why would someone think you care if they’re standing in line somewhere, ordering hotdogs and not hamburgers?

It took him a while to learn how to do some filtering, and how to be chat-proof. And it took him even longer to discipline himself and set time limits on his own Facebook activities—only so many minutes a day, and only at certain times.

Good, he was finally using the site efficiently.

So now, with his cup of coffee next to him, he was ready to use his allotted minutes for this day. He reviewed the recent posts, smiled at a few cute pictures, read the comments by Fareed Zakaria for a while, and then responded to his messages.

Under the Messages tab on Facebook, there is another heading called Other where you receive messages from Facebook users whom you’re not Friends with. Cyrus hadn’t clicked this button for several weeks, and decided to check it out.

There were several unimportant and very delete-worthy messages there, but one of them from a woman with a Persian name caught his attention.

At the time, he had no idea that this message was the harbinger of a drastic change in his life. Tales of SAVAK atrocities in Iran, executions in Syria, and lashings in Pakistan were the furthest things from his mind.

He continued to read:

Dear sir, May i ask, if you used to teach In an language institution in Tehran, the name was ;Iran America. It was located in Vesal Ave. Please let me know. with regards

His first reaction after reading the message was that she should go back to school and finish her English studies. It simply contained too many mistakes. But let’s not be hasty, he thought.

He had indeed taught at the Iran-America Society in Tehran, but not at that address. Who was she, anyway?

He looked at the name. Mahnaz. It didn’t ring a bell, not yet anyway. And her present-day profile picture—the only picture that he could see—was not much help either. He kept thinking, and things started coming back to him—very slowly.

Around the time referred to in the message, alongside his regular job in Tehran, Cyrus also taught English at a language school.

These were evening classes, and the students were from a wide range of backgrounds. There were high school kids trying to get ahead of their classmates, corporate workers hoping to get an edge on competitors within their companies, parents planning to visit their kids abroad in an English-speaking country, and so on.

One of the most popular English language schools in Iran was the Iran-America Society, which was run by Americans. What’s more, they also had Persian classes for Americans and other foreigners. It’s hard to imagine, but at one time Iran and America were friends!

Unlike all-girl or all-boy schools, which were the norm in Iran, classes in these language schools were co-ed. Therefore some people put a lot of effort into using this little window of opportunity to be close to members of the opposite sex and, if possible, to impress them. This was especially true among the younger students.

Cyrus remembered two girls in one of his classes. There was one who always stayed after class to ask questions—stupid questions obviously contrived as an excuse to talk to him. She was bold, too, having no qualms about accidentally touching him from time to time.

The teachers were, of course, warned by the administration to watch out for such behavior and to report it, which he had already done in her case. So, he wasn’t really worried, but he still felt uncomfortable.

Several times she suggested that they meet outside class, and go to a movie or something. He turned her down every time, telling her he was engaged to be married. But she didn’t believe him. She would always just laugh and say, Okay, maybe some other time.

In the same class, there was another girl who looked a lot like Natalie Wood. She was very quiet, and always looked sad, as if she might start crying at any moment. Sometimes she smiled, but even her smile was sad. She had an innocent look on her face, usually had her arms crossed, and held her head at a slight angle, much like Natalie Wood used to do from time to time.

It’s interesting how people who look alike usually also act alike.

Cyrus was attracted to her, but he didn’t know how she felt about him. And considering the fact that this was happening in Iran, he couldn’t risk his reputation and just ask her out. What if she was from a conservative family, got offended, and complained to, say, her father?

Honor-killings and related violent acts are not as prevalent in Iran as in some other parts of the world, but they do happen from time to time.

A famous case happened at the time of the American hostage crisis in Iran. According to newspaper reports, one of the American hostages, a military man, had befriended one of the Iranian female guards, who subsequently became pregnant. The girl’s brother took it upon himself to correct the situation. He didn’t have access to the hostages, but his sister was easily accessible. He killed her.

Being keenly aware of the honor-killing mentality, and not knowing anything about the girl’s family background, Cyrus wasn’t about to take any stupid risks.

• • •

Thinking about his teaching days in Iran seemed to open a door in Cyrus’s mind that had been shut and locked for decades. You know how, when you shake a snow globe, all those snowflakes rise up in swirling chaos? It was as if his mind was the globe and his memories those snowflakes. Suddenly he was remembering long-forgotten details from those past years, some of them blurry and others crystal clear.

One night, after class was over, Cyrus had to take a cab home because his car was at the shop. As he waited for the cab, he watched a street vendor selling hot, smoked red beets on the sidewalk. It was cold outside, and steam from the beets was rising into the air.

Cyrus loved smoked beets for as long as he could remember. They don’t have them here, only canned or steamed ones. They’re good, too, but the taste of smoked beets is out of this world.

The problem was that only the street vendors had them, and kids were told not to buy things from street vendors. Don’t buy anything from those guys, his mother used to say. They’re dirty, and you could get sick. If you want beets, tell me and I’ll make some for you. But she couldn’t make smoked beets.

Once, when he was a kid, one of his uncles was walking him home when Cyrus suddenly spotted a beet vendor on the other side of the street. He stopped and pulled on his uncle’s sleeve.

Uncle, I want some beets, he said.

But I don’t see any.

Yes, there’s one over there.

But he’s on the other side of the street, and it’s snowing. It’s dangerous.

It’s okay, I’ll be careful! Cyrus said.

It’s really cold, sir. A woman’s voice abruptly cut through Cyrus’s smoked beets memories.

He turned around. It was the quiet girl standing with her arms crossed and her head tilted to the side. The faint smile on her face chased some of the gloom from the cold, winter night.

Yes, it is, Cyrus said. Then he looked around and said, I wish we weren’t right in front of the school.

Why?

Then I’d eat some of that smoked beet!

They both laughed. It was probably the first time he had seen her laugh, the first time he was sure she wasn’t going to start crying.

They grew quiet. It was too cold to stand still, and they started walking back and forth as they waited for a cab.

Taxi cabs in Iran give rides to more than one passenger if they’re going in the same general direction. Of course, they won’t take more passengers if you’re willing to pay a little extra.

So, if you ever go to Iran and get in a cab, don’t be surprised if you see the cab driver slow down when he sees a potential passenger standing on the side of the street, waving. Also don’t be surprised if you hear the potential passenger shouting Straight ahead, to the driver.

Of course, if you don’t like this kind of hassle at all, you can always call for a Taxi Telefoni, and wait.

A cab drove up, and they both got in. There were other passengers in the cab, so they couldn’t have a meaningful conversation.

She got out first, but before she did she handed Cyrus a warm plastic bag and said, My homework, sir. When he later got out of the cab, he was surprised to find some smoked red beets in the bag.

• • •

These two girls were the only ones Cyrus could remember from those days teaching in Iran. There were students from other classes, too, but his recollections of them were hazy. Looking at the message one more time, he was sure of only one thing—as a teacher he had obviously failed.

The message was dated a few days earlier, so Cyrus thought he’d better reply. Trying not to be too specific, he sent her a message letting her know that he was indeed who she thought he was. Then he sat back and tried to remember more.

A high school literature teacher once had told him that the human mind is like a deep ocean. At any given moment, you can only see what’s on the surface. The rest is somewhere in the depths below, until you dive down and bring it up.

Many things had happened in Cyrus’s life, the majority of which he had forgotten. But the message from Mahnaz had upset those snowflakes in his globe-mind. Now he was diving down.

Once a Foreigner, Always a Foreigner

He thought about the old country. This was where he had grown up, where he always thought he would eventually grow old and die, where he was somebody, where he had belonged such a long time