by Zoya Pirzad
‘You’re looking very pretty,’ she said. ‘Seems like you put on a few pounds, no? In exchange, I’ve lost a few. See?’ She twirled all the way around for me, there in the hallway. She was right, she had lost some weight. I didn’t know whether to be more surprised by her slimmer figure, or by the warm greeting with a hug and kiss.
We went to the kitchen and Mother and Alice set the boxes of Peroks and Gata they brought from Tehran on the table. Alice could not keep still. She took the coffee pot from me. ‘I’ll fix it.’ She fixed coffee and filled me in about the trip. ‘We decided to get married right here. I gave the order for the wedding invitations to a friend of Mr. Davtian who owns a printshop. Oh, and Davtian sends his warm regards. What a nice man! If he hadn’t put in the order himself, the invitations would not have been ready on time. I’ll order the cake from Mahtab. Now try and guess what I bought in Tehran.’
She took the coffee pot off the stove, set it on the counter, and turned around. She opened her arms, cocked her head, and smiled. ‘A wedding dress!’
Mother broke out laughing and I joined in with a good heartfelt laugh as well.
This time it was me who went up to my sister, hugged her and gave her a kiss. ‘Congratulations, congratulations! And blessings.’ The morning passed by making the arrangements for the wedding party and writing down the list of people to invite.
The twins and Sophie came back for lunch. Alice hugged all three of them and told them they must be her bridesmaids, in blue and pink dresses.
Armineh said, ‘Auntie, are you getting married first, or Auntie Violette?’ And she stood there, with Arsineh and Sophie, looking straight at Alice. Alice and Mother looked at me.
I hemmed and hawed. ‘Aunt Violette’s wedding has been delayed. I mean...’
Sophie made things worse. ‘So that’s why Aunt Violette was crying all day yesterday and the day before.’
Arsineh and Armineh asked simultaneously, ‘She was crying?’
Sophie looked at me, unsure whether she should tell or not, but eventually she did. ‘She was crying and she kept repeating, “It’s the old crone’s fault.” ’
Armineh asked, ‘What’s a crone?’
Arsineh said, ‘It means midget.’
Alice got up from the table and put some sweets on a plate for the children. ‘Crone does not mean midget,’ she said. ‘And it’s not nice to say either one of those words. Run along now; take your sweets and go have a tea party with your dolls.’
As they were leaving the kitchen, Arsineh threw her arm around Sophie’s shoulder. ‘It’s not that bad. There will be a wedding anyway, and we’ll get to wear bridesmaids dresses, and you can stay over at our place, with us. Right, Armineh?’
Armineh said, ‘Yeah. Gosh, I hope that Auntie Nina doesn’t come back too soon.’ And they left the room, all three laughing.
Mother looked at me. ‘Well, what happened?’ Alice was leaning over the table.
I told them. When I had finished, Mother said, ‘Didn’t I tell you from day one that that woman is crazy? Didn’t I tell you her son is crazy, just like her? If I’m lying, go right ahead and say so.’
Alice was playing with the twine on the box of Gata. ‘Don’t accuse people without cause. We don’t know what happened. Anyway, it’s none of our business. But...poor Violette.’
I looked at Alice as if seeing her for the first time. As long as I could remember, my sister had been flinging accusations left and right, night and day. And she had her opinions about the smallest details of everybody’s business and would determine for them just exactly what they should do. And now...don’t accuse people without cause. It’s none of our business. Poor Violette? I knew then that I really, really liked Joop.
The phone rang and Armen, who I hadn’t even realised was home, shot out of his room like an arrow. ‘I’ve got it.’ Shortly, he came to the kitchen to say, ‘The Dutch gentleman for Aunt Alice.’
Alice put her arm around Armen’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. ‘First of all, has the cat got your tongue? You forgot to say hello to me! Second, what’s with this “Dutch gentleman” business? From now on, call him Uncle Joop.’
Laughing, she went to the hallway to get the phone. Armen repeated ‘Uncle Joop’ several times, laughed, and greeted his grandmother with a kiss. My mother caressed her grandson’s cheek.
‘I hope I live to see your wedding day, too.’
49
Nina helped every step of the way with Alice’s wedding. My fear that she would talk endlessly about Violette proved baseless. After returning from Tehran, Nina did not breathe a word about her.
The night before the wedding, Artoush and Garnik took the children to the Annex for fish and chips. I stayed home, sitting at the kitchen table with Nina, making little packets of candied almonds as wedding favors for the guests. We poured the colorful almonds in little square nets that Mother had embroidered with flowers, and then tied them up with a little satin ribbon. On one end of the ribbons was printed, ‘Joop and Alice,’ and on the other end, the date of the wedding.
Alice had gone home. ‘I should go to bed early tonight so I will be bright and fresh for tomorrow. If I can sleep!’ And Mother was supposed to sew, as Joop put it, a ‘Red-and-Green.’
Joop found all the little customs of the wedding ceremony fascinating. One of the wedding customs of the Julfa Armenians is to drape two broad satin sashes over the shoulders of the bride and groom, one red and one green. When the priest recites the benediction, the best man shifts the placement of the sashes back and forth a couple of times. The green sash symbolizes good fortune and wealth, while the red symbolizes love. Artoush agreed with nary a grumble to act as best man at Alice and Joop’s wedding.
Nina was drinking sour cherry sherbet and faintly humming a song.
I couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘How is Violette doing?’
She poofed loudly and shrugged. She tightened the string on a wedding favor and put the packet in the basket, which was decorated all the way around with artificial flowers. She drained the sherbet and stirred the ice at the bottom of the glass. ‘The longer you live, the more you learn. As usual, I raised a big hullabaloo and fretted over nothing.’ She put the glass down on the table and picked up another square net. ‘When we got to Tehran, she spilled tears for three days and busted up her poor mother’s good china. That is, until she saw the upstairs neighbor’s brother. When this fellow entered the picture, she calmed back down and turned into the same old Violette that everyone knew as “poor girl, how sweet and innocent.” And, by the way, I sent Tigran to the university dorm. The environment at the aunt’s place was far more dangerous. Pass me a ribbon.’
As I handed her a ribbon, Nina said, ‘Do you remember when I said that Violette reminded me a little of you? As your mother says, “Call me an ass!” ’ And she burst out laughing.
I put a packet of almonds in the basket and thought, ‘No, call me the ass.’
Nina knotted a ribbon around the net she was holding and stared out the window. She was no longer laughing. The sweet peas were not easily visible from where we were sitting. She said, ‘Speaking of Mother, have you thought about what to do after Alice leaves...’
I looked out the window. These past few weeks I had been trying not to think about the living arrangements for Mother after Alice leaves. I played with the bow of the packet I was holding. ‘I don’t know.’
Nina put her packet of almonds into the basket. ‘You haven’t spoken with Mother about it?’
I put my packet of almonds in the basket. ‘Not yet.’
She looked at the sweet peas again. ‘Well, maybe after the wedding, huh?’
I looked at the basket of wedding favors and nodded. ‘After the wedding.’
50
It was a few days after Alice and Joop’s wedding and they had already left for Holland.
We had seen them off at the airport. Joop kissed me on the cheek and said, ‘Clarice, I thank you for all your troubles. Rest assured I will make
Alice happy. My mother and my aunt have asked me to make Alice happy.’ On the day of the wedding, it was Joop’s mother and aunt who sent the largest bouquet of flowers – red and white Dutch tulips. Artoush marveled, ‘How did they get these all the way to Abadan from their little hamlet?’
I was sitting on the swing seat with Nina. Armen was fiddling with his bicycle near the front gate. The twins and Sophie were playing hide-and-go-seek. ‘Who will be It?’ asked Sophie. ‘Let’s draw lots.’ The three of them stood in a circle, and Sophie tapped everyone on the chest in turn. ‘Eenie...meenie...miny...mo...catcha...tiger...’
Nina said, ‘I’ve never understood what it’s supposed to mean, this counting rhyme.’ Then she gestured toward the kitchen. ‘So, you’ve spoken to Mother, have you?’ Mother’s white hair was visible through the kitchen window.
‘Yeah,’ I said.
The girls ran around to the backyard. Nina pushed off with her foot, and the swing rocked backwards. ‘Artoush didn’t complain?’
I looked at the third ornamental tree – either Judas or Persian Turpentine or Ash – which had remained nameless for a while. After the locust attack, it sprouted again and had really flourished; now it was giving more blossoms than the Armineh and Arsineh trees.
I pushed off, and the swing seat rocked. ‘Not only did he not complain, he was the one who suggested it.’
Nina leaned sideways toward me. ‘You’re kidding!’
The night before the wedding, when I was about to broach the topic of Mother being left all on her own after Alice left, Artoush asked, as he hung up his pants in the wardrobe, ‘So when will Mother be moving in with us?’
Nina cracked up laughing. ‘I, for one, can’t figure out that husband of yours the least little bit! One minute a grouchy, grumpy crab, and the next minute, kinder than...’ Garnik drove up and honked. Nina finished her sentence. ‘But with your Mother’s fussiness and her nagging, God help you.’ Then she yelled, ‘Sophie, come on. Your father’s here.’ She stood up and limped a few steps. ‘Ouch, my foot’s asleep.’ She turned toward the kitchen window. ‘Goodbye, Mrs. Voskanian.’ Then she turned back to me and whispered. ‘Maybe a teaspoonful of fussing and nagging may not be so bad for you, huh?’
I got up from the swing seat and walked her to the gate, thinking, ‘One teaspoon or a bucketful?’
Mother poked her head out the window. ‘Nina, where are you going? Stay for dinner. I made Red Pilaf.’
The twins and Sophie, dripping with sweat, ran up from the backyard and stood in front of us, jumping up and down.
They pleaded, ‘Let Sophie stay with us!’
‘Aunt Nina, please, pretty please, let Sophie stay with us.’
Sophie pleaded, ‘Gee, I like Red Pilaf!’
Nina looked at the kids, then at me. ‘Go ahead and take care of your shopping,’ I ventured.
Nina looked at the kids again. ‘What am I going to do with you little wiggle worms? You’ve been together for the last two nights; haven’t you had enough?’ Then she looked at Mother. ‘I have a lot of souvenirs to buy to take to Tehran, and besides, your Red Pilaf is perrrfect.’ Mother’s Istanbuli Polow, or as Armenians called it, Red Pilaf, really was perfect.
I stood at the gate and waved to Garnik. Armen was still working on his bike. ‘Still not fixed?’ I inquired.
He shook his head. ‘Bikes from the stone age can’t be fixed in a jiffy.’
I pressed him on the point, ‘You mean the stone age was last year?’
He looked at me and laughed. ‘Last year was the stone age.’ His hair was spilling over his forehead.
As I walked back through the yard, the twins came running out of the house. Armineh had a book in her hand. ‘Mommy, will you read the last part of it for us?’
Arsineh reminded, ‘You promised us you would read it!’
Sophie added, ‘You promised yesterday, Auntie. A woman and her word!’ They all laughed and the four of us squeezed onto the swing seat.
When I read the last page of Little Lord Fauntleroy and closed the book, Sophie said, ‘That poor little boy!!’
‘Why poor?’ asked Arsineh.
Armineh reasoned, ‘It all turns out well for him in the end.’
‘Yes,’ said Sophie, ‘but he was very miserable at the beginning.’
The phone was ringing in the hallway. The twins and Sophie looked at Armen, and when they saw that he could not hear it, Armineh jumped up and ran into the house. Sophie said, ‘Wait up,’ and ran after Armineh. Arsineh, looking down at the cover of the book, said, ‘I wish all stories could turn out well in the end.’
Armineh shouted from the front door, ‘Armen, telephone! It’s Jasmine.’
Sophie echoed her. ‘Armen, telephone. Jasmine.’
Armen dropped his bike, ran up the path and disappeared inside.
I turned around to Arsineh. ‘Jasmine?’
Arsineh pushed off with her foot, and the swing seat jerked back. She looked at me and laughed. ‘Don’t you remember? Cinderella!’ Then she picked up the book, jumped down off the swing seat and ran after Armineh and Sophie, who were beckoning to her from the doorway.
Mother was calling after them in the hallway, ‘Running in the house again with muddy shoes?!’ Now from the outside, through the screen door, I saw her frail silhouette, with its white hair and black dress, sweeping the entryway. Having Mother live with us would surely be a big help. A big help, yes, but...
Mother brought out the little Persian carpet from the entryway and shook off the dust.
A gentle breeze was blowing, unusual for Abadan at that time of the year. I pushed off with my foot, and the swing seat rocked back. I was thinking about what clothes to bring and what souvenirs to take for our summer stay in Tehran, when a butterfly passed right in front of my face. A white one, with brown polka dots. As I was remarking how pretty it was, I saw another, and then another. Seven or eight of them in all alighted on the red rose bush.
‘Butterflies migrate, too,’ he had said.
I looked at the sky. It was blue. Not even a spot of cloud.
GLOSSARY
Places and proper names of people and foods that Anglophone readers would not generally find familiar are given in the text with capital letters, and briefly explained below. Most of the italicized words in the text are English words (or book and film titles), borrowed as such into Persian or Armenian, especially by people in Abadan working for the National Iranian Oil Company, which was British-run until 1951, and especially influenced by the English language.
Abadan, a city planned and built up around the oil refinery, which opened in 1913, after the British discovered oil at Masjed-Soleiman. The oil industry and the huge refinery dominated the economy, making Abadan into a company town. Abadan city was divided into neighborhoods or districts, with the factory workers generally living in a neighborhood just southeast of the refinery. Pirouzabad, on the northeast side of the airport, was for labor personnel. See also Bawarda and Braim, the neighborhoods that mostly appear in the story. The city, which is right across from the border with Iraq, and about twenty miles from Basra, suffered immense destruction during the Iran–Iraq war in the 1980s.
Adab School in Abadan was a private school, elementary through high school, for Armenians. The curriculum was partly in Persian and partly in Armenian, the Armenians being one of the few linguistic minorities in Iran (where Persian is the national language but Arabs, Azeris, Baluchis, Kurds, etc., speak a different mother tongue), allowed to run schools in their own language.
Ahmadabad, a neighborhood in Abadan to the northeast of Bawarda, largely for the poorer inhabitants.
Anoush, a 1912 opera by Armen Tigranian, inspired by Armenian folk music and based on the poem ‘Anoush’ (1892, by Hovhaness Toumanian, on whom see below). It is a central work in the Armenian musical repertoire, recounting the story of a village girl, Anoush, who falls in love with the shepherd, Saro. Anoush’s brother, who has been humiliated in a wrestling match with Saro, kills him, leadi
ng Anoush to throw herself from a cliff. Quite apart from the character of the opera, in conversation the word anoush (said in response to a compliment to the chef or hostess), means, may the food nourish your soul.
April 24th Ceremonies, a day of mourning observed in commemoration of the victims of the Armenian genocide, the beginning of which is dated to ‘Red Sunday’ on 24 April 1915, when the Ottoman government in Istanbul rounded up and later executed some two to three hundred prominent Armenians. This day is observed in Armenia, and by Armenians in diaspora, as Genocide Remembrance Day (estimates of the number of Armenians killed in Ottoman territory during 1915–1918 run anywhere from half a million to 1.5 million).
Armenian Revolutionary Federation, or ARF (Dashnaktsutyun) was an International Socialist Party formed in 1890 in Tiflis with the goals of national self-determination for the Armenian people (then subject to Ottoman rule), democracy, and social justice. It helped to establish the first Armenian Republic in 1918, but in 1920 it was disbanded by the Soviet Union and its leaders exiled, many of them coming to Iran. It continued to fight for Armenian independence.
Barev, Armenian for ‘hello.’ Armenians in Iran live in a bi-lingual, sometimes tri-lingual environment, with Persian being the standard language of wider communication, Armenian being the language of communication between Armenians in Iran, and English being a medium understood to some extent by many of the employees of the National Iranian Oil Company in Abadan.
Bawarda, a district or neighborhood of Abadan, where Clarice and Artoush live. It is the older central and southern part of Abadan. See also Braim.
Boupacha, Djamila. A young activist for the Armée de Libération Nationale in the Algerian war for independence against the French, who was arrested in 1960 and accused by the French of planting a bomb. She was tortured and brutally raped in detention. Simone de Beauvoir and other French intellectuals formed a committee to defend her and Djamila became a cause célèbre of French liberal opinion against the Algerian war.