Iranian Welcome
Grace and peace to you from Qom! Our flight from Frankfurt to Tehran was smooth and by 12:30 a.m. on 1 October, we were standing in a congenial customs line at Tehran's older airport. Our passports were examined, all ten digits were inked and printed, we collected our luggage and emerged in front of the airport terminal, blinking.
A fine looking Sufi stood nearby. He had a face like King Dariush, sculpted at Persepolis. He was a study of stillness and serenity, his large dark eyes attentive and engaged. Three women in manteaus smoked and chatted. A teen-age boy with hair
elaborately sculpted in gel strolled about talking into his phone. We sat on our luggage and took it all in.
By 2:15 a.m., there was still a remarkable amount of life around us. A toddler in a yellow ruffled dress with matching hair ribbon bucketed back and forth pursued by
a diaper bag toting father. People sipped soda pop. Teen agers gathered in small clusters. It was Ramadan in Iran, and people were looking forward to their pre-dawn breakfast. Iranians, it seems, find that sleep is strictly optional.
Our ride came. I felt embarrassed by our heavy, heavy suitcases (books!). It was a Night of Power among Iran's Shia-- a ritual celebration of the Quran being given to humanity. Mosques were full, traffic was heavy, some streets were completely blocked. Our friend and the driver had a challenging time getting to the airport.
We headed south on the Persian Gulf Highway and were in Qom by 4 a.m. As we passed the Shrine, lit up like a glimpse of paradise, little groups of pilgrims were seated along the dark roadside, sharing breakfast before day break and the beginning of a new day of fasting.
Lugging our mega-luggage up to our apartment, we unpacked a bit, showered, went to bed. We knew what the next twelve hours would bring! By late morning our door bell would be ringing with welcoming neighbors. Fresh fruit would be given, warm bread from the bakery, sweets especially for Ramadan, soda pop, roses and a CD of soothing music.
But at 4:40 am we were just glad to lay down. The sky was lightening to the east.
The first call to prayer was echoing in the streets. We were home.
A fine looking Sufi stood nearby. He had a face like King Dariush, sculpted at Persepolis. He was a study of stillness and serenity, his large dark eyes attentive and engaged. Three women in manteaus smoked and chatted. A teen-age boy with hair
elaborately sculpted in gel strolled about talking into his phone. We sat on our luggage and took it all in.
By 2:15 a.m., there was still a remarkable amount of life around us. A toddler in a yellow ruffled dress with matching hair ribbon bucketed back and forth pursued by
a diaper bag toting father. People sipped soda pop. Teen agers gathered in small clusters. It was Ramadan in Iran, and people were looking forward to their pre-dawn breakfast. Iranians, it seems, find that sleep is strictly optional.
Our ride came. I felt embarrassed by our heavy, heavy suitcases (books!). It was a Night of Power among Iran's Shia-- a ritual celebration of the Quran being given to humanity. Mosques were full, traffic was heavy, some streets were completely blocked. Our friend and the driver had a challenging time getting to the airport.
We headed south on the Persian Gulf Highway and were in Qom by 4 a.m. As we passed the Shrine, lit up like a glimpse of paradise, little groups of pilgrims were seated along the dark roadside, sharing breakfast before day break and the beginning of a new day of fasting.
Lugging our mega-luggage up to our apartment, we unpacked a bit, showered, went to bed. We knew what the next twelve hours would bring! By late morning our door bell would be ringing with welcoming neighbors. Fresh fruit would be given, warm bread from the bakery, sweets especially for Ramadan, soda pop, roses and a CD of soothing music.
But at 4:40 am we were just glad to lay down. The sky was lightening to the east.
The first call to prayer was echoing in the streets. We were home.
posted by Quakers in Qom at 3:13 PM
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