Coming to America

By Akbar Fakhar

As an old man looking back on life, first in Iran and then as a student in America, it comes to me clear and strong, the patterned song of the sparrow, the stream full on its journey, and the wind, yes, always the wind: my view of the world has remained unchanged. In my thoughts, there are stories to tell, jokes to pass along, and poems to read for enjoyment but, overall, my greatest joy in life is to follow the path of Learning – the good, the bad, the right, the wrong – it doesn’t matter. It all goes into my mind to mingle among other experiences that demand equal attention. I am a better person because of Learning. This book is, first of all, reflections on my past experiences; second, it is a summary of my views and thoughts about the world and human nature; and lastly, it is my hope that if others travel these experiences with me, it may possibly set them too on the path of Learning – that is my wish. The world is a risky place but sometimes we should not to be afraid to take risks. You see, a person can be romantic and write love-drenched poems; he may also delight in telling funny jokes and saying things to embarrass the politicians. A person can be a serious businessman, but also getting along with anybody and adapt to any situation. I started my life over from zero many times; “Never give up” was my motto! We all have pride and self-esteem and want to get ahead in life. You just have to find your way to personal success without hurting others in the process. Coming to America is true stories, poems, politics, and thoughts about what happens when different cultures meet. Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781635685510

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Coming to America

True Stories (Funny, Sad, Political) and

Thoughts about What Happens

When Different Cultures Meet

Akbar Fakhar

Copyright © 2017 Akbar Fakhar

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-64082-352-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63568-551-0 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mom and dad, whose strength and honor have guided me throughout my life.

For the Children

I’ll never forget last year when I went to Iran to visit my family. As I was walking along a washed street, a young boy of about thirteen or fourteen years ran up to me and insisted that I buy a packet of gum from him for 200 tumans. I kidded around with him, telling him that 200 tumans was too expensive for a packet of gum (it wasn’t), that I would give him 500 tumans. The boy thought to himself for a moment and then said, Sir, you’ve calculated wrong. If you want a discount, give me 150 tumans. With a smile, I gave him 500 tumans. The boy followed me a few steps and said, Sir, you’ve made a mistake. Let me give you your change.

It was obvious that the boy really needed the money, but he felt it would be dishonest to take more than 150 tumans for the transaction. Understanding his dilemma, I took the change from him; then I bought two more packets of gum from him for 500 tumans each. And I thanked him for his honesty.

Continuing on my way, I decided to donate all the profits from this book to needy children. They, along with all the children of this boy’s generation, are the hope of the future. One day, when I visit Iran again, I hope to find all my fellow countrymen happy, prosperous, and without need.

Akbar Fakhar M.

Note to the reader:

If you received this book free, please, from your heart, give a donation to needy children.

Exhausted, I went to the hotel, packed my bags, and took a taxi to the airport. Twelve hours later, I was very glad to get back to home sweet home in good old America.

Preface

My name is Akbar Fakhar. This is a story about cultural differences, human nature, family, and the many and varied experiences of a young man who traveled to America from Persia (Iran) in 1974. For me, the magnitude of the journey from Persia to America was like time-traveling from the Ice Age to the twentieth century—suddenly, I woke up in a whole new world.

In America, as in every society, words, symbols, and gestures mean so much. The pressure to get it right in my new country was, as you can imagine, very stressful! The houses look different, the food is different, the smells are different, even the trees and flowers are new and different, and—God help me—I never know how people are going to react to the words, symbols, and gestures that bubble up from my Persian roots!

The experience of coming to live into a new society and culture—aptly called culture shock—inevitably leads to a range of life experiences and events that are sometimes amusing and sometimes sad. But if you are open to new ideas, people, and experiences, your life will be enriched a hundredfold. And in turn, your presence in the world will enrich the lives of others. My journey to America has had a happy ending (so far). My wish for you—if you are on such a journey from one culture to another—is that yours is as fruitful as mine and that yours has a happy ending too.

I will be talking about many things in this book: thoughts I have had for a long time about what is important in life (mutual respect), the importance of family and religion, and funny things that happened to me in college and finding my way around in the world of business (to name a few). However, because I was born in a Muslim country, let me say a few things first about religious belief.

When you hear my name, Akbar, you are probably thinking, With such a name, he must be a Muslim. Then your mind automatically jumps to thoughts of terrorist and Osama bin Laden. If you knew me, however, you would be assured that such violence and ideology has had no place in my life these past forty-five-plus years in America. You cannot judge everyone the same just because they share the same religion or ethnic background. All religions have within them groups of violent extremists. I remember, for example, the horror of the Jonestown massacre in Guyana, during which Christians (including women and children) who did not want to drink the (poisoned) Kool-Aid in order to go to heaven were beaten to death instead. Is this the Christian way? Of course not, and terrorism is not the Muslim way either.

All religions speak about nonviolence and say that we should love one another, respect our neighbors, help the needy, and not lie or steal. We are, however, individual human beings, and some people consciously choose not to follow the Word of God. It is on them that the blame for acts of terrorism and violence rests, not on the ethnic or religious group.

In my dealings with people over the years, I have found that one thing is very important—talking. Talking has on occasion saved my life (but that is a story for later). We must always talk to each other, keeping open the lines of communication. Talking brings negotiation, and negotiation brings compromise—everyone gives something and everyone receives something. Thus, agreement is reached, and the chaos of daily life is temporarily put at bay.

Early on, I didn’t do a lot of talking; instead, I did a lot of listening to what people in America had to say. Not only was it interesting and fun to listen in on their lives and share their experiences (so different from mine), it was also important that I learn the appropriate words, symbols, and gestures necessary to get along in American society. We are all humans with varying needs, wants, and thoughts, but it was definitely an eye-opening experience to learn about American culture from the people who live it!

What we as human beings want from life and what we expect are two different things, or so I thought growing up in Iran. Yes, it is our own doing whether we live lives that are happy or miserable, but it is also a mistake to expect too much from life. In America, the distinction is less clear; I found that with patience, persistence, and planning—and of course, hard work—wants and expectations can be merged.

My father often told me when I was growing up, and particularly, right before I left for America, Just follow God’s Word or your heart. Don’t lie, don’t steal, respect your neighbors. You have your own God, your own religion, your own prophet. In retrospect, I often think that the best religion I could have is my father’s advice.

Consider age for a minute, how old people are—truthfully, I don’t think it matters much how old a person is (40, 50, 60, etc.). Chronologically, when I came to America after high school, I was a young man. I am now an old man, but I don’t feel any different. I remember all the good times and bad, but now I have a new freedom of perspective gained from years of talking and thinking and reading and wondering—life is good, no matter what age you are.

Everyone has an old friend from childhood they talk to about past experiences they shared, like how when they were boys they would ride horses and deal with the outlaws or other funny, remembered things and stories told over and over that you laugh about together.

So now I am going to tell you some funny stories about things that happened to me and some of my friends in America. These stories will, of course, have a Persian slant to them—that is, occasional philosophical comments and poetry. (There has to be poetry!) The text includes some slang and unusual phrases that mean different things to different people; I will try to explain the context. Relax and have fun.

CHAPTER 1

My Uncle, the Outlaw

Many events come to mind from the time I was growing up in Iran. I remember one day when I was just a kid, I was headed home to attend a birthday party for my uncle, the outlaw. (Because he was a community leader and a good man, he was always being hunted as an outlaw by the central government of Iran.) On the way, I saw a couple of neighborhood kids, who were my age, arguing about God. They were in front of a grocery store, looking at the biggest watermelons. One boy said, God can pick up five of them with one finger. The other boy yelled, I saw the king pick up ten watermelons with one hand! The first boy said, If the king can do that, then God can pick up one thousand with one finger. Without thinking, I interrupted, saying, Oh god, which god are you talking about?

Suddenly realizing that I had become an unwanted intruder into this argument, I began looking for a way out of the situation. Unfortunately, I could see no tall trees to climb for escape.

Trees so tall I was sure the tops reached the sky,

That huge sky,

Whoever made it must be able to hold everything in his arms. We pick flowers and put them in a basket, why not God?

I launched an attack on the two boys who were arguing, hitting one on the rear end and the other on the neck. I grinned at them and yelled, God told me to do it! Then I ran home.

But for few seconds, I was dreaming,

How big is God?

What does he look like?

When I got home, the door was open, and lots of friends and family were gathered to celebrate my uncle’s fortieth birthday. My uncle, the outlaw, was dressed in his usual cool style. That is, his jacket was draped stylishly over his back, with the sleeves hanging down casually in front. To match this cool casual style, he wore shoes that looked (to me) like slippers because the backs were folded down to make them easier to put on and take off.

Some men dressed this way just to be cool and stylish; others dressed this way because they wanted to be thought of as tough guys, and dressing cool indicated that you were a tough guy, and everyone should respect you. Many of the men I knew who dressed cool had the respect of people in the region, but some were respected as good tough guys, while others were respected as bad tough guys.

It appears that my uncle, the outlaw, was included in the good tough guy category. I heard good things about him from everyone, and sometimes I imagined that