اما ماجرا (یاد آوری به خودم این تیکه فقط یک
It all started on my way to school in a Saturday morning back in the mid 1960s (weekends are Fridays ). I happened to hit my heads against something a power pole. I guess I was reading a weekly sport news and must tell you I was in grade 11 back then in Tehran, Iran. The killing pain and the growing bruise afterwards were not the biggest challenge that I was to face compared to the reactions that I expected to receive at school. Tell you what, I will be questioned about “how come” of the bruise from every single grade 10 and 11 buddy, as well as most of my teachers, nothing to be said of the other school-staff. Fortunately I need not to bother for a response some another friend would come up with his own version of the incident. The biggest pain the butt, that I needed to think about was How to “come clean” from the interrogations of our Mr Shoe our benign but hyper smart school principal.
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It all started on my way to school in a Saturday morning back in the mid 1960s (weekends are Fridays ). I happened to hit my heads against something a power pole. I guess I was reading a weekly sport news and must tell you I was in grade 11 back then in Tehran, Iran. The killing pain and the growing bruise afterwards were not the biggest challenge that I was to face compared to the reactions that I expected to receive at school. Tell you what, I will be questioned about “how come” of the bruise from every single grade 10 and 11 buddy, as well as most of my teachers, nothing to be said of the other school-staff. Fortunately I need not to bother for a response some another friend would come up with his own version of the incident. The biggest pain the butt, that I needed to think about was How to “come clean” from the interrogations of our Mr Shoe our benign but hyper smart school principal.
To be honest that the stupid pole hit my head or the stupid I hit my head to the pole did not come about out of a simple carelessness. Meaning it was not as simple as “a careless boy not watching ahead for his steps ended up pay back for his carelessness through hitting his head to a hard barrier”, there lay a romantic maneuvering tactic behind my act, I am talking about the reading the newspaper at the moment which caused this tragic encounter to begin with. Pretending that I was a very busy student and was not chasing those 2 girls was a part of my male ego maneuvering. Have you happened to watch the antiques performed by a rooster in order to catch the eyes of her, not far from how I thought I could catch her attention. To understand this tactic I shall remind you that this is Iran of about half centuries ago, with all the societal prejudices and contradictions particularly with respect to boys and girls relationships.
As opposed to the restricting policies of the current Islamic regime, the government of Shah at the time perused an active pro-western policies and to an extent Hollywood-like way of life were being promoted. While the state run media and most of the popular press followed such a path the society as a whole was ways more conservative compared to present day Iran. Ok to put it in the shortest number of word, for a boy or man hearing that his sister (or even a close female relative) had boyfriend, would be regarded a shame if not a taboo, while at the same time boys bragged about having girlfriends.
To be honest amongst boys at my social class, it was common to talk and brag about a neighbor girlfriend or lover (who loved us back so much) we went to movies and did things that are done in movies, etc, in reality however in most of the cases the entire story had sprung out of our wishful imagination, if nothing else realistically we could not afford the luxury (money-wise, place-wise, as well as other societal barriers). When one of the friends would talk about the sweet talks and things he had done with his girlfriend, there seemed to be an untold agreement among us. We were not inclined to challenge stories that did not appear stupid while we each knew that he was most likely making things up.
Let me first shed some light on the background. Specifically speaking
Socio-economic Backgrounds
1- In a purely economic arena, Petro-Dollars has not reached the country yet, I shall correct this by saying from the early 1960's the country's oil revenue was in the rise but just a little and that basically from increased production, believe it or not a barrel of crude oil was sold for about $ 1 or lower.
It was only in the early-mid 1970s that the government’s revenue from oil export reached 9-digit figures ( $ billions), with significant effects on the way of life in the country at least in economic terms.
2- In the societal sphere, although a slow modernization process had already began decades earlier in Iran but in the mid-1960s still well over % 80 of the population were illiterate (near to 95% for women), over %75 lived a subsistence life in rural areas, with little if any access to what could resemble a way modern way of life.
The monarchy of Shah's dictatorial regime has fully established his grip of power over the country, and a relatively slow modernization process that had already been started decades ago was gaining new dimensions. It is widely believed that President John Kennedy had conditioned the US support of the regime to the adoption of a reform plan that would bring structural changes in the direction of expanding a larger middle-class in Iranian society. The process of urban sprawl common to many under-developed countries was gaining momentum in Iran as well.
The government modernization plans had resulted in some economic gains as well as in speeding up migration of illiterate and non-skilled rural population into cities (particularly Tehran). It is true that a minority in the hold of power or bureaucratic apparatus benefitted exceptionally well from the modernization, nonetheless the overall economic indicators indicated positive changes in the lives of Iranians even in the mid-late 1960s.
Contrary to the restrictive policies that the current Islamic regime had tried to impose on Iran for over 30 years, in those days the government media as well as the dominant press highly publicized an advanced modern culture (almost Hollywood style way of life), a high majority has still held very conservative views of life particularly with regards to the relationship between men and women. To an extent it can be said that in the field of culture a majority was being isolated from the official mainstream.
Schools were uni-sex, and building up a relationship between boys and girls was very hard if not impossible in my social context, therefore allowing for much to be imagined in our minds.
One small reminder, the norm in Iran (as well as in boys high schools) is that people by and large called each other in last names. This applied to teachers calling each other, a teacher calling a student as well as students among themselves (calling by first names usually happens after becoming close buddies).
I grew up in a mid-low income family of 5 siblings (right in the middle of an older sister and brother and a younger pair). My father migrated from their village to Tehran at the age of 10 the youngest amongst 7- or 8 who left the village to Tehran on foot (that is about 300 miles). He had been the only literate (reading & writing) amongst the group. From then on he had had his ups and downs economically. He married my mother at the time of one of his “ups” at the age of 24, she was 7 years younger. Dad decided (or had to do so) to work as a wage laborer when his last private jewelry shop was bankrupted when I was 2 years old. He worked 2 full-time jobs until he reached the retirement age.
My mom not only the pillars of our own family but the beloved aunty amongst the large extended family. She was known for giving a helping hand wherever needed. Up to my university years I remember usually a son or grandson of this or that uncle or aunt had arrived from the village to live with us until he establishes his own life. My mom always treated the new arrivals as her own and this is for now exchange.
The expenses grew up as we grew up and mother began knitting Persian rugs while taking care of the household work at the same time. Depending on the design and size each rug would take a year or 2 to finish which then she sold to pay for the family’s expenses. Plus each of us children are in the hold of the one rug she specifically knitted for our wedding.
Had not been for her selfless work and sacrifices our family would not have afforded to pay for my university education this is for sure.
I shall first admit exaggerated talks about the manners of teachers and school staff used to be the single most popular source of senseless chat and giggling among us. I have not been into a high school setting for ages but I assure you that this was true then and there
I wish Mr. Showghi a happy life if alive and may rest at peace otherwise.
Mr Sho (just for the sake of brevity) was from the city of Lahijan in the province of Gilan by the Caspian sea, north of Iran. Territorial jokes about peoples of this or that region or ethnicity of Iran was common at the time. One common theme of the jokes was about how Men from Gilan let their women do the hard work in the field while men sit at the corner store, smoked, chit-chatted and bragged about themselves.
This kind of senseless territorial profiling had certainly contributed to our exaggerated personification of him among us kids since Mr Sho talked in a Gilani accent.
In the smallest number of words
He had a strong sense of policing and was a very smart private detector
Contrary to others, he did not like giving advices, he only directed us to do the right thing and in order to keep us from doing wrong just for our own benefit.
He had an athletically built and huge body size or he would walk as if he was
He was known as such not only throughout Lahijan, the Province of Gilan, Tehran School district #2, but in the Ministry of Education, or so he thought.
When in our age (in high school) he had been a member to any sport team in the city of Lahijan, or he said so.
To get to high school I took a bus (about 15 min) from home to the 24th of Esfand Square (called the Revolution Square in the new regime) and from there walked for about 20 min to the school that was very close to Palace Square (changed to Palestine Square). Usually I walked the distance with my friend and long time buddy Sia. We took the sidewalk in front of University of Tehran and changed course towards the north in Anatole France street (don’t know the new name) located right on the eastern border of the campus and finally walked into Takht Djamshid Avenue east wise for 5-blocks. I preferred to take the route from within the campus but this I could only do if the guards at the gate did not happen to ask for a valid university ID.
There were pairs of girls taking the same route to Dr Vali Nasr Girl High School located on Aboureyhan street. The girls parted their way from us on the corner of Aboureyhan Street and Takht Djamshid Avenue, about 2-3 blocks before we get to our school.
Don’t get me wrong, we never dared to actually talk to them, I never did anyway. However and especially when alone all sort of imaginative conversation with her ran into my mind. I shall someday write about how Sia and I finally decided to talk to the two girls we had been chasing.
On Saturday (Fridays are the weekend) mornings Sia usually took an entirely different route, I kind of enjoyed the luxury of performing my excursions all alone. I’d buy a Keyhan Varzeshi (a weekly sport news paper) and read it on my way- As already said pretended as if I was busy reading , in the case that one of the girls happened to look back.
I was well into my imaginative romantic experiences that I happened to hit my head to a pole on the sidewalk, and gush did it hurt. Stars zigzagging and dancing out of my brain a few second after the crash, while I was trying hard to avoid a second injury by falling down on the ground . I only remembered that a lady of my mom’s age came to me, gave me a napkin to wipe out blood from my nose, helped wipe my cloths a bit, and guided me to the Faculty of Literature of the University of Tehran to get to the restroom and clean up the mess and advised me give massage to my swelling forehead, and finally walked me out of the university and advised me not to read things while walking.
Well the problem that an eggplant was growing up right in the middle of my forehead wasn’t as important as thinking about telling others how I managed to create it in the first place. The family was not the hardest, after the initial harsh reaction my mom would be busy finding something to sooth my pain…
My buddy’s at school? Well amongst the well established culture amongst us was that as soon as one of them opened up his mouth to say “how..” the other would jump in to deliver a 15 minutes detailed story about how incident happened. One very common theme for making fun of the subject would go as “He was trying to call the neighbor girl from the small opening of the yard door, the girl’s brother shut the door and fucked the hell out of him. “ and to make the story sound more funny he would go “stupid boy he is not an scorpion he would not bite your sister right?”
Teachers also were going to ask about my forehead, either out of concern or just pushed into it by one of the boys on my right or left side who just were looking for a way to avoid hearing one more math, science etc lessons from the teacher. The response would also come from yet another buddy on the opposite side of the classroom who would apply all his comic imagination to put together all he has already heard about the incident to create a more entertaining version.
But the real problem came when Mr Sho the caring principal would come up with his concluding version of all these stories.
I was summoned to Mr Sho’s Office the next Saturday morning by Mr Nemati (we kids did not brand him amongst the good service-crew category).
Hello dear Ayni, Mr Shoe greeted me as soon as I was walked into his office by Mr Nemati
(to be continued- Feb 02-2012 )
