Qom on a sunny Saturday

We spent two good days and nights in Tehran. What a mega-city! Other large cities we have taken taxis through (Buenos Aires, Managua, London) feel like a stroll in the suburbs compaired to the immensity of Tehran. The highlite of our time there was meeting members of the Armenian Christian community-- both orthodox and evangelical. We also know how to find and ride the Metro and buses (with lots of help from Wally).

On Friday morning we worshiped with the evangelical congregation and were warmly received into fellowship. As we were gathering for 10:30 worship, an old man came down the center aisle to find his seat. His hands were raised and he prayed gently all the way to his pew. A children's choir (11 lively boys and 2 smiling girls) sang several numbers. We were given a bi-lingual hymnal (Armenian/English) and sang along to "What a friend we have in Jesus", "Tell it to Jesus," "There is a place of quiet rest" -- just like home (except for the Armenian). This will be a good worshiping community for us as Christians. Our hotel was full of young adults for a Tai Kwan Do competition (from China, Kazakhstan, Russia) -- lots of energy and life.
In the morning, when the smog had not yet settled in, the Alborz Peaks-- gleaming with snow-- were clearly visible from the hotel.

Back here in Qom, we are beginning to settle in. On the bus ride back yesterday (2 hours for $1.25), three women in chadors sat right behind us-- a small child on a lap. A hand appeared through the seats and poked my shoulder. It was the middle aged grandmother. "Excuse me," she said, "do you speak Farsi?" No, sorry, I replied. One of her daughters said in very broken English "where are you from?" America.
At once a chorus of beaming smiles and "Welcome, welcome."

Here in Qom we continue to notice many wonderful things. Video games are readily avaiable-- including "Civil War" (US that is) and "Narnia". Valentines cards were offered in stores on the 14th. Fruits, vegis, and nuts are abundant and beautiful.

It is chadors that are my Waterloo. I must wear one in the Imam Khomeini Institute (where I am currently using this computer) -- an all male institution (except for me) and into shrines. I decided I would wear a chador for practice last Thursday, as David, Wally and I walked around Qom. It is a large semi-circle of black polyester (so it won't wrinkle) with a little bit of elastic to go around the head. One puts the elastic around one's head and then throws all the black yards of cloth backwards and voila-- one is a chadori woman. Theoretically.

My first try with the chador. I donned the elastic, tossed the cloth backwards. The whole 9 yards (maybe literally) landed on the floor behind me. I anchored it on my head more slowly and it seemed to stay. We walked down the street. I looked into a storefront window and caught a glimpse of myself. David said, "Well, the front of your chador is way down low and the back end is hiked up very high." Oh me. So, in the midst of other people (all the women in chadors and no one else seeming to have any problems), I jerked the chador forward. Better on the back end, but it made my headpiece crooked. I was looking through the world with my right eye (mostly), because my left had material over it-- material that shouldn't be over my face at all. I jerked the material to the right. Better, but I could feel the elastic head band slipping. If it lets go of my head, the whole chador is coming off again-- not backwards this time but sideways. I walked up onto a curb to get a better glimpse and nearly clipped a trash receptacle. The chador still looks odd. I slip it off (it's coming off again anyway) and fling it over my head in a new way. Good! It feels secure.

The city bus comes by and David and I jump on--me into the back with the women and David up front with the men. Railing separate us, but we can see each other. I look at the other women who are eying me with curiosity and amusement (and, I think, sympathy). At this point I look like a displaced Mother Superior who has had a bad
day-- rumpled and off center and dragging lots of black material on the left side.
I look at the other women's heads. Their elastic does't show on top but mine does.
I reach up and feel mine. Oh yes-- my chador is inside out and, I think, backwards.
An old woman stands firmly in front of me and pats my shoulder.

(I have, by the way, told this story to both the Armenian Christian women in Tehran and some Muslim women in Qom-- everybody gets a kick out of it). (:

On Monday we will begin Persian (Farsi)classes and on Wednesday we begin studying Islamic faith and practice. We continue to be surrounded by hospitality and kindness. Qom, in our first week, is a very friendly place. Hopefully our phone will be connected very soon & we can call and email from our apartment.