Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Sunday June 21, 2009
airport lax.
everything seems to go fine. we make it to the gate on time. no unnecessary checking from the guards. everyone is anxious to come to iran. it feels like a very long time since ive been here.
we arrive in tehran about 2:30 am local time, meet with amu masoud at an airport near Qom, one we’ve never been to. ridiculous parking situation and one elevator with only one button for both up and down which was interesting. it’s like they don’t want to make life easy.
on the way to his house, one of the roads we needed to take was closed off because of rioters against ahmadinejad. we made it the night of voting day. the streets were still alive in some areas, by now it was about 3:30.
we made it to amu’s house said hello to the rest of my uncle’s family. after an house of sitting around and talking, i fell asleep first. at 6 in the morning, i was awaken by my sister. “ramin, aghajoon died.”
“what?”
then my mom came to my side pushing my sister out of the way, “come on mi hijo, get ready, we have to go.”
half asleep, i got up, took a slow grave shower, shaved my face, got out and heard my father and amu talking.
“you knew he died?”
“you sister called when everyone was asleep. i didnt want to wake you with such news. i was going to tell you once you had rested and were seated.”
“thank you very much, well we have to get going.”
my grandfather had a stroke and fell over 5 days earlier and was in the hospital. at around 4 in the morning in the hospital, he passed in his sleep.
we ate a quiet breakfast altogether, talked about how big the kids had gotten and how they still looked the same, but just bigger.
we said our goodbyes and headed out to shomal with a taxi. it still hadnt sunk in to everyone, we were just quiet, my mom and sister had teared up but my dad and i were just quiet.
it was a good ride home. the windy, up and down road meant more to me this time. i appreciated it more. the greens were greener, the wind was more relaxing, the sun’s warmth was beautiful. everything went by a little slower.
we were 5 hours into the drive, on the last stretch home when a super loud burst happened right under me in the back seat and then loud smacks we hitting the underbelly of the car. the driver pulled over and we saw taht the tire had exploded. no exaggeration. the tread of the entire tire was torn for the rest of it and was hanging on by a few metal strings. replaced it, driver said his sorries.
we got home 20 minutes later.
it was a sea of wailing and tears. my cousins sobbing came to hug me “ramin, ramin, aghajoon coo?” (where is he)
i went around and gave everyone a big hug while they were still wailing in my ear.
i unpacked the luggage and brought it all into the house. i tried to avoid lots of eye contact since i wasnt crying. i wasnt heartless, tears just didnt come to me.
we sat in the guest room with aunt uncle family friends cousins. everyone heads hung low, sobbing calling out “why, why, aghajoon where are you? i miss you! you were getting better!”
it was painful.
i keep using the word wailing but that’s really what it was. it was loud, haunting, without intent to hide. release.
i saw my father cry once, when he met the friend that was taking care of my grandpa, medically and with anything else he needed. “honestly, i can;t tell you how grateful i am” then the tears got him.
solemn.
the day after we arrive, we went to the cemetery where they were washing his body. so mnay people flocked around the wash house. so much more crying. i walked in and watch them pray over and wash my grandfather’s corpse.
“why do you have that kid in here? he doesnt know what’s going on, get him out of here.”
that was the end of it.
after a long prayer ceremony, they carried the body of my grandpa wrapped in a black cloak to his grave and put him in without a casket, which is normal here but i though was pretty interesting.
see, i am an observer. everything was happening and i was watching. sure i was participating physically, from morning to night, people would come to our house nonstop and we’d serve tea, hand out dates, serve massive lunches and dinners outside. the death of someone like my grandfather is a lot of work. throughout these past days, ive been introduced to many people, family that ive never seen due to bad blood, friends of my grandpa. i laughed with some, hung my head low, so many sighs. but i never shed a tear. and its really not a macho thing or anyhting. the water works just never really turned on. i loved my grandpa. but i dont know why i didnt cry. it may have been the distance; i talked to him over the phone once or twice a month, and saw him once every other year. that seems to be the gut excuse that comes to me. i wasnt holding back.
i was sure that when i saw his body i would cry. that’s what happened when my grandmother died a few years back. but i was at peace in a way this time.
on the third day, there was a ceremony at the masjhet, again lots of crying, and wailing, the inside was split by a long black piece of cloth blocking off an area for the women.
after, we visited my grandpa’s grave, prayed and such. i didnt pray. i dont believe in any religion or anything. grandpa expired, it was his time. its a fact of life.
after the ceremony, hearts were much lighter. many felt closure.
we visited his grave after the ceremony, and then went home. still more people came. day in day out, it was the same, people coming, tea serving, dates all around. the wailing became less and less.
the seventh was another important day. we had a ceremony at another masjhet to prepare, one in a small village on the outskirts where my grandpa was born. my cousin and i went earlier to help with the drinks, fruit, and more dates we were to serve to the people that came. it was a very simple building, made of cinder blocks and cement. but the inside was so very nice, windows all around, a huge open space laiden with vibrant rugs and really nice cupola/skylight. i love skylights.
after we had prepared the area, i sat and talked to 2 farmers that worked on my grandpa’s land for about an hour. later, they interrupted me from my work in the masjhet to take a picture with them. they said they liked me so much, they wanted me to take thee picture so i woulndt forget them.
this ceremony was much better than the one on the third. humbler, more heartfelt crowd, and the singer was accompanied by a nay flute, it was awesome.
we cleaned up after the ceremony, again visited the grave as we had done everyday since, and went home, back to tea and date serving, this time to a smaller crowd.
we served tea into the wee hours of the night. the company boiled down to close friends and some family. all sat around together, drank tea, laughed, calm, tired, done.
the day after, we went out to a much needed day in the mountains. 5 cars full of people and food all day eating, laughing, sitting through the rain. my thickheaded uncle and some cousins had to go back to tehran this day. uncle back to germany for seminars in england and america, and cousins went back home in tehran.
today was the first day i had access to the internet. the government has brought the speed down to a fraction of its original bandwidth, apparently about a third. SMS texts have been cancelled for some phone companies. on the day the khomeini spoke, most cell phones didnt even work.
the news is crap and doesnt show a thing. all of the news from tehran comes from word of mouth. facebook is filtered. gmail takes 7 minutes and 23 seconds to load (it was nail-biting).
cant really call this a vacation.. its not a getaway or anything. we actually flew right into the middle of things. the death of a grandpa and a nation in revolution.
everything seems to go fine. we make it to the gate on time. no unnecessary checking from the guards. everyone is anxious to come to iran. it feels like a very long time since ive been here.
we arrive in tehran about 2:30 am local time, meet with amu masoud at an airport near Qom, one we’ve never been to. ridiculous parking situation and one elevator with only one button for both up and down which was interesting. it’s like they don’t want to make life easy.
on the way to his house, one of the roads we needed to take was closed off because of rioters against ahmadinejad. we made it the night of voting day. the streets were still alive in some areas, by now it was about 3:30.
we made it to amu’s house said hello to the rest of my uncle’s family. after an house of sitting around and talking, i fell asleep first. at 6 in the morning, i was awaken by my sister. “ramin, aghajoon died.”
“what?”
then my mom came to my side pushing my sister out of the way, “come on mi hijo, get ready, we have to go.”
half asleep, i got up, took a slow grave shower, shaved my face, got out and heard my father and amu talking.
“you knew he died?”
“you sister called when everyone was asleep. i didnt want to wake you with such news. i was going to tell you once you had rested and were seated.”
“thank you very much, well we have to get going.”
my grandfather had a stroke and fell over 5 days earlier and was in the hospital. at around 4 in the morning in the hospital, he passed in his sleep.
we ate a quiet breakfast altogether, talked about how big the kids had gotten and how they still looked the same, but just bigger.
we said our goodbyes and headed out to shomal with a taxi. it still hadnt sunk in to everyone, we were just quiet, my mom and sister had teared up but my dad and i were just quiet.
it was a good ride home. the windy, up and down road meant more to me this time. i appreciated it more. the greens were greener, the wind was more relaxing, the sun’s warmth was beautiful. everything went by a little slower.
we were 5 hours into the drive, on the last stretch home when a super loud burst happened right under me in the back seat and then loud smacks we hitting the underbelly of the car. the driver pulled over and we saw taht the tire had exploded. no exaggeration. the tread of the entire tire was torn for the rest of it and was hanging on by a few metal strings. replaced it, driver said his sorries.
we got home 20 minutes later.
it was a sea of wailing and tears. my cousins sobbing came to hug me “ramin, ramin, aghajoon coo?” (where is he)
i went around and gave everyone a big hug while they were still wailing in my ear.
i unpacked the luggage and brought it all into the house. i tried to avoid lots of eye contact since i wasnt crying. i wasnt heartless, tears just didnt come to me.
we sat in the guest room with aunt uncle family friends cousins. everyone heads hung low, sobbing calling out “why, why, aghajoon where are you? i miss you! you were getting better!”
it was painful.
i keep using the word wailing but that’s really what it was. it was loud, haunting, without intent to hide. release.
i saw my father cry once, when he met the friend that was taking care of my grandpa, medically and with anything else he needed. “honestly, i can;t tell you how grateful i am” then the tears got him.
solemn.
the day after we arrive, we went to the cemetery where they were washing his body. so mnay people flocked around the wash house. so much more crying. i walked in and watch them pray over and wash my grandfather’s corpse.
“why do you have that kid in here? he doesnt know what’s going on, get him out of here.”
that was the end of it.
after a long prayer ceremony, they carried the body of my grandpa wrapped in a black cloak to his grave and put him in without a casket, which is normal here but i though was pretty interesting.
see, i am an observer. everything was happening and i was watching. sure i was participating physically, from morning to night, people would come to our house nonstop and we’d serve tea, hand out dates, serve massive lunches and dinners outside. the death of someone like my grandfather is a lot of work. throughout these past days, ive been introduced to many people, family that ive never seen due to bad blood, friends of my grandpa. i laughed with some, hung my head low, so many sighs. but i never shed a tear. and its really not a macho thing or anyhting. the water works just never really turned on. i loved my grandpa. but i dont know why i didnt cry. it may have been the distance; i talked to him over the phone once or twice a month, and saw him once every other year. that seems to be the gut excuse that comes to me. i wasnt holding back.
i was sure that when i saw his body i would cry. that’s what happened when my grandmother died a few years back. but i was at peace in a way this time.
on the third day, there was a ceremony at the masjhet, again lots of crying, and wailing, the inside was split by a long black piece of cloth blocking off an area for the women.
after, we visited my grandpa’s grave, prayed and such. i didnt pray. i dont believe in any religion or anything. grandpa expired, it was his time. its a fact of life.
after the ceremony, hearts were much lighter. many felt closure.
we visited his grave after the ceremony, and then went home. still more people came. day in day out, it was the same, people coming, tea serving, dates all around. the wailing became less and less.
the seventh was another important day. we had a ceremony at another masjhet to prepare, one in a small village on the outskirts where my grandpa was born. my cousin and i went earlier to help with the drinks, fruit, and more dates we were to serve to the people that came. it was a very simple building, made of cinder blocks and cement. but the inside was so very nice, windows all around, a huge open space laiden with vibrant rugs and really nice cupola/skylight. i love skylights.
after we had prepared the area, i sat and talked to 2 farmers that worked on my grandpa’s land for about an hour. later, they interrupted me from my work in the masjhet to take a picture with them. they said they liked me so much, they wanted me to take thee picture so i woulndt forget them.
this ceremony was much better than the one on the third. humbler, more heartfelt crowd, and the singer was accompanied by a nay flute, it was awesome.
we cleaned up after the ceremony, again visited the grave as we had done everyday since, and went home, back to tea and date serving, this time to a smaller crowd.
we served tea into the wee hours of the night. the company boiled down to close friends and some family. all sat around together, drank tea, laughed, calm, tired, done.
the day after, we went out to a much needed day in the mountains. 5 cars full of people and food all day eating, laughing, sitting through the rain. my thickheaded uncle and some cousins had to go back to tehran this day. uncle back to germany for seminars in england and america, and cousins went back home in tehran.
today was the first day i had access to the internet. the government has brought the speed down to a fraction of its original bandwidth, apparently about a third. SMS texts have been cancelled for some phone companies. on the day the khomeini spoke, most cell phones didnt even work.
the news is crap and doesnt show a thing. all of the news from tehran comes from word of mouth. facebook is filtered. gmail takes 7 minutes and 23 seconds to load (it was nail-biting).
cant really call this a vacation.. its not a getaway or anything. we actually flew right into the middle of things. the death of a grandpa and a nation in revolution.
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