Thinking out loud

Almost six years ago, on December 1999, I took a trip to France and stayed in Paris for ten weeks. My trip to Paris was a good experience. First of all, I was going on a vacation out of Iran. I was living in Tehran at that time, and I hadn’t traveled to a foreign country for twenty years. I expected to experience new deeds in a different culture, and I wasn’t disappointed. What I liked the most was the fact that I wouldn’t have to wear a hijab when I would appear in public, so like a child delirious for her special gift, I took off my scarf the moment I stepped out of the airplane in Paris’ international airport. Not wearing a scarf, I let the air flow through my hair while the sun gently caressed it. Secondly, I met Susanti. I only knew her through written communication since she was my internet friend. I had a notion of her, and I was excited to meet her face to face, for I wanted to know if my perception was true. We had less in common than I thought, but I learned more about her during the day that we spent with each other than the whole year through the internet.As an example, when I went shopping for our lunch, I bought lettuce, tomatoes, fish, mushroom and rice thinking she would like them, but she liked bread, Swiss cheese, ham, and yogurt. Last but not least, I got trained in advanced aerobics which served me very well when I went back to Iran since I already was a part time aerobics instructor. I could get a hold of various video tapes in Tehran, but exercising in the real environment as a student was the perfect opportunity for me to learn new and improved skills.For example, I realized the important role of the instuctor for keeping the class alive. I liked one of my teachers the most because I was hearing his directions even when I was in the last row since his voice was louder than the music. Also, he moved around in the class smiling while he was exercising with us, so I felt welcomed in his class. I left Paris with nice memories that after six years, I smiled when I recalled them.

I met my ex-husband when I was twenty years old. I dated him for seven months then my father insisted I agree to marry him since the social culture in Iran didn’t accept other relationships between young women and men but marriages at that time. My marriage lasted for six years, and as I recall, it was seventy two months hassling. My ex-husband was the worst person I’ve ever known.

He was ridiculously jealous. It was common in Iranian culture to have a jealous husband, but his weariness was crossing the line to extreme. For example, the first year of our marriage on New Year’s Eve, he started to have some attitude and stopped talking to me at a party. I was embarrassed in front of others, and on the other hand, I was scared. I had no idea that he was upset because I danced. He stated later on I should never dance again unless I danced with him, or he gave me the permission to do so. His jealousy wasn’t related just to my behavior and me, but it also extended to further aspects. As an example, he used to play tennis, and he would go to the club with his friends. One day he lost his game while his friend won. He was so envy that not only he didn’t congratulate his friend but wished his friend was sick to lose.

Secondly, he was egoistic and opportunism. He was the center of the universe, or the sun rose from west. For instance, he always had to have his annual birthday parties while mine could easily be forgotten. On his birthdays, I had to prepare, cook, serve, and clean, so he could just have fun. In addition, he never supported me financially. I had a part time job, and my father helped me to pay my personal expenses. Likewise, he used to take advantage of any chances and people for his own benefit. When my father was struggling with cancer and the treatment,as an example, he was thinking about my father’s death and properties since he was already planning about what he wanted to do with the inheritance.

Furthermore, he was irresponsible regarding his decisions and deeds. Whenever we had a date, he was late. One Friday night, I waited an hour in the main street. He didn’t apologize but had an excuse; the traffic was heavy, or he was on time. Moreover, in many critical situations, he changed the scenario in a way, so I was the guilty person. For instance, I didn’t like funeral ceremonies, and it was his mother’s brother-in-law’s funeral. He told me that it wasn’t crucial to attend the ceremony, so I didn’t. Realizing I wasn’t there, his mother was offended because she took it personally. He didn’t explain to his mother why I wasn’t there but adapted to her notion and put the blame on me that I did not respect his mother and didn’t attend the ceremony for that purpose.

I was so negatively influenced by him during our marriage that I was horrified to trust men for some good amount of time after our divorce. Being his wife again is my worst nightmare; hence, I doubt I ever forget him.

“Where are you from?”
“Iran.”
“O.. I’ve been in Iran.”
“Really!!!”
“Yes, many years ago. I guess even before you were born.”

Thos many years ago were the brilliant ages for Iran and Iranians. I remember my father would describe it: Golden Years. He liked it a lot. So, those Golden Years, like any ages through history, had their own form of art so did movies and TV series. Scoffing had lots of partisans, and one of the most wanted scoffing TV series was “Daii Jaan Napoleon.”

The series is based on a novel named the same by Iraj Pezeshkzaad in the 1970s.

Although the story is told through an young teenage boy who has falen for Leyla, Daii Jaan’s daughter, it is mainly about a Paranoid old man, Daii Jaan, who is pretty delusional. He has an authoritarian character, and trust nothing even not himself I suppose.

I realized the novel has been translated in English, ” My Unlce Napoleon” by Dick Davis. Davis states; “God forbid, I’ve fallen in love with Layli!” So begins the farce of our narrator’s life, one spent in a large extended Iranian family lorded over by the blustering, paranoid patriarch, Dear Uncle Napoleon. When Uncle Napoleon’s least-favorite nephew falls for his daughter, Layli, family fortunes are reversed, feuds fired up and resolved, and assignations attempted and thwarted.(end quote)

Amazing how people exchange materials such as literature. So, Iranian’s culture is being introduced to world. nice!