Snap Shots of Iran- An Occasional Entry
I (David) thought it would be fun to start a new section of this blog for images within events that have caught my eye. My hope is that by sharing these visuals within a larger story I might elicit a question or a comment from you. Hopefully the emotional essence is found in the images that are a part of my memory. These snap shots might give you insight into our experience of Iranian society. We welcome your reflections and hope that they will be part of a dialogue across cultures and faiths.
Oh, I may throw in a few real snap shots as it seems appropriate!
• An excited David walked down the isle on the KLM flight from Amsterdam to Tehran. What would I experience in this new land? Would I be welcomed? Would people be aloof or friendly? I look ahead toward my seat and meet the eyes of a couple in their 60’s. They are clearly Iranian. How I know I cannot say now. They wave to me and ask, “Where are you going?” I tell them, “Qom.” Their eyes widen and then immediately soften. “Welcome to Iran. We hope your stay is a blessed one.” As I wonder at this greeting my eyes meet several other passengers and their eyes reflect warmth and interest.
• I am out jogging. Is it proper to do so in Qom? Let me take a chance. I need the exercise. I start down the street. Wow. I am in worse shape than I think. I pull up and pant. I start up again. A motorcycle flies by and a young man in a most friendly voice shouts, “Hello. How are you?” He glances at me with a friendly smile and then is lost to sight as he powers up the street with a friend on the back.
• There are three pizza places in one block near us. We are out walking in the evening after getting fresh produce. We look up at the sign over one pizza parlor and then down to a floor beneath it. We see a young man sitting on a raised platform on a beautiful Persian rug. On the platform is a hookah. He is smoking the hookah(water pipe). There were Persian rugs as far back as we could see and each with a hookah. The hour was early- about 7:30 pm and the young man was alone. Perhaps he was early and waiting for friends who would arrive later for an evening of talk.
• I am riding my bike on Boulevard Amin. It is about 8:30 pm. All the shops are open. I am looking for a bike shop I had spotted earlier. I weave in and out of the sidewalks because I am just getting my courage up to ride on the main road. I glance over at a store front. There are perhaps eight men sitting on each side of the office area. The office store front is about 12 feet wide. There is a desk at the end of this office with a younger man in a chair behind it. There is an animated conversation going on. I look up and the sign above says radiator shop. I chuckle to myself about business at this hour as I ride on. Three doors down is a financial office of some sort. There are two rows of chairs along each wall and 7 or 8 men are sitting in the chairs and they are in an animated conversation. Oh, I get it! This is the way men spend their time in the evening.
• We are window-shopping on our way to the produce stand. We are on one of the roundabouts (or maydans in Persian). We look in a shop window and see men’s clothing. This is a nice shop. Linda exclaims, “Wouldn’t Abi like to be here! That men’s jacket says Versace! I wonder what she would say that jacket sells for in Bal Harbor!” The next day I go into the shop out of curiosity (and with the consensus of Linda and Abi that I should maybe get it). I stop into the store. They do not speak English nor I Farsi. I show them I that I like what I see and guide them to the jacket. They show me several other brands, some Versace and some Gucci. I then hear distinctly that they are made in Iran. Aw! How much is the price? They write on my newspaper, $42! Do you think I bought it? Would a simple living Quaker or Mennonite be seen in a Gucci jacket? Please advise. The truth will be revealed in one week!
• It is evening. It is about 9:00 pm and in this community time for dinner. Wally has left us for the US and we decide to venture out for ice cream (excellent ice cream bars in coffee hard coating with creamy flavored ice cream inside). It is our first time on the streets. Homes are enclosed in a courtyard so all you see are walls some 8 to 10 feet high of grey or brown plaster (or in our neighborhood marble). This is broken by the bright lights of a neighborhood grocery store on the scale of a 7-11. The streetlights are not extremely bright by US standards. We wonder if the streets are safe and if areas are to be avoided. I look ahead and see a father caring a small child in his arms and the mother walking beside him. She is in chador, As I look, I it dawns on me this is a safe place to walk. I look at Linda and we realize the same thing. This simple image is a symbol of many things in Qom- safety, family, community. Since then we have ventured into most areas of our neighborhood. We had the impression that most people in Qom did not go out at night. Not! On the main Blvd there are beautiful restaurants with families pulling up about 8 pm or later for dinner. The women in chador and the men in suits. Still the snap shot of the little family was our intuitive cue to many things.
• We have just left the southern outskirts of Qom. It is arid desert and little grows without effort and irrigation here. Salt permeates the soil so moisture is not a guarantee of plant life in this environment. The soil is often red and the small hills simply look like huge piles of dirt. You sense the ancient age of the land. We arrive at a restaurant along the highway for lunch. The décor is dominated by 10 platforms with Persian carpeting. Railings break the sections and carpeted pillows with tightly packed filling rest along the railings. Our meal is brought to us and placed in the middle on a tasteful plastic tablecloth we might use for a picnic. We eat and then it is time for prayers. Mr. Haghani excuses himself. I use this opportunity to visit the restroom. Mr. Haghani is going to the same place. When I leave the stall I observe Mr. Haghani. He has his sleeves rolled up and he is letting the water roll down from his hands to his fore arms. I remember a picture of the ritual ablutions before prayer. I am witnessing this. I am not seeking to break into his preparation so I wash my hands and leave. I notice men going into an adjoining room. It is carpeted and a few men are prostrate in the position of prayer. This then is the prayer room required in a restaurant that is not near a mosque. The image is of the ablution. This brief glimpse into the sacred.
Oh, I may throw in a few real snap shots as it seems appropriate!
• An excited David walked down the isle on the KLM flight from Amsterdam to Tehran. What would I experience in this new land? Would I be welcomed? Would people be aloof or friendly? I look ahead toward my seat and meet the eyes of a couple in their 60’s. They are clearly Iranian. How I know I cannot say now. They wave to me and ask, “Where are you going?” I tell them, “Qom.” Their eyes widen and then immediately soften. “Welcome to Iran. We hope your stay is a blessed one.” As I wonder at this greeting my eyes meet several other passengers and their eyes reflect warmth and interest.
• I am out jogging. Is it proper to do so in Qom? Let me take a chance. I need the exercise. I start down the street. Wow. I am in worse shape than I think. I pull up and pant. I start up again. A motorcycle flies by and a young man in a most friendly voice shouts, “Hello. How are you?” He glances at me with a friendly smile and then is lost to sight as he powers up the street with a friend on the back.
• There are three pizza places in one block near us. We are out walking in the evening after getting fresh produce. We look up at the sign over one pizza parlor and then down to a floor beneath it. We see a young man sitting on a raised platform on a beautiful Persian rug. On the platform is a hookah. He is smoking the hookah(water pipe). There were Persian rugs as far back as we could see and each with a hookah. The hour was early- about 7:30 pm and the young man was alone. Perhaps he was early and waiting for friends who would arrive later for an evening of talk.
• I am riding my bike on Boulevard Amin. It is about 8:30 pm. All the shops are open. I am looking for a bike shop I had spotted earlier. I weave in and out of the sidewalks because I am just getting my courage up to ride on the main road. I glance over at a store front. There are perhaps eight men sitting on each side of the office area. The office store front is about 12 feet wide. There is a desk at the end of this office with a younger man in a chair behind it. There is an animated conversation going on. I look up and the sign above says radiator shop. I chuckle to myself about business at this hour as I ride on. Three doors down is a financial office of some sort. There are two rows of chairs along each wall and 7 or 8 men are sitting in the chairs and they are in an animated conversation. Oh, I get it! This is the way men spend their time in the evening.
• We are window-shopping on our way to the produce stand. We are on one of the roundabouts (or maydans in Persian). We look in a shop window and see men’s clothing. This is a nice shop. Linda exclaims, “Wouldn’t Abi like to be here! That men’s jacket says Versace! I wonder what she would say that jacket sells for in Bal Harbor!” The next day I go into the shop out of curiosity (and with the consensus of Linda and Abi that I should maybe get it). I stop into the store. They do not speak English nor I Farsi. I show them I that I like what I see and guide them to the jacket. They show me several other brands, some Versace and some Gucci. I then hear distinctly that they are made in Iran. Aw! How much is the price? They write on my newspaper, $42! Do you think I bought it? Would a simple living Quaker or Mennonite be seen in a Gucci jacket? Please advise. The truth will be revealed in one week!
• It is evening. It is about 9:00 pm and in this community time for dinner. Wally has left us for the US and we decide to venture out for ice cream (excellent ice cream bars in coffee hard coating with creamy flavored ice cream inside). It is our first time on the streets. Homes are enclosed in a courtyard so all you see are walls some 8 to 10 feet high of grey or brown plaster (or in our neighborhood marble). This is broken by the bright lights of a neighborhood grocery store on the scale of a 7-11. The streetlights are not extremely bright by US standards. We wonder if the streets are safe and if areas are to be avoided. I look ahead and see a father caring a small child in his arms and the mother walking beside him. She is in chador, As I look, I it dawns on me this is a safe place to walk. I look at Linda and we realize the same thing. This simple image is a symbol of many things in Qom- safety, family, community. Since then we have ventured into most areas of our neighborhood. We had the impression that most people in Qom did not go out at night. Not! On the main Blvd there are beautiful restaurants with families pulling up about 8 pm or later for dinner. The women in chador and the men in suits. Still the snap shot of the little family was our intuitive cue to many things.
• We have just left the southern outskirts of Qom. It is arid desert and little grows without effort and irrigation here. Salt permeates the soil so moisture is not a guarantee of plant life in this environment. The soil is often red and the small hills simply look like huge piles of dirt. You sense the ancient age of the land. We arrive at a restaurant along the highway for lunch. The décor is dominated by 10 platforms with Persian carpeting. Railings break the sections and carpeted pillows with tightly packed filling rest along the railings. Our meal is brought to us and placed in the middle on a tasteful plastic tablecloth we might use for a picnic. We eat and then it is time for prayers. Mr. Haghani excuses himself. I use this opportunity to visit the restroom. Mr. Haghani is going to the same place. When I leave the stall I observe Mr. Haghani. He has his sleeves rolled up and he is letting the water roll down from his hands to his fore arms. I remember a picture of the ritual ablutions before prayer. I am witnessing this. I am not seeking to break into his preparation so I wash my hands and leave. I notice men going into an adjoining room. It is carpeted and a few men are prostrate in the position of prayer. This then is the prayer room required in a restaurant that is not near a mosque. The image is of the ablution. This brief glimpse into the sacred.
posted by Quakers in Qom at 4:30 AM
2 Comments:
Where are the pictures, Phil?
~ Lizzie
"I wash my hands in innocence, O Lord"
To be innocent perhaps. Lovely word pictures
Flo
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