by Sidney Wood
Jen’s mom and dad had talked to her about expectations once she arrived in Tehran. She had a silk hijab, a headscarf, in her carry-on that she was to wear once they landed. She also brought tops that were longer than she was used to. Her father said jeans were okay, but her shirt must cover to mid-thigh. At first she was afraid she would have to wear a burqa, but her mother assured her a scarf was the worst she would have to tolerate. “It’s not so much to cover you up and hide you Jen. In fact, it is considered quite stylish,” her mother said. “It’s just to fit in. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself over there." Her father added, “It is simply showing respect for our culture and heritage." Jen nodded understanding, but couldn’t help feeling disassociated from the idea that it was her culture. Her culture was right here in Dallas. It was Snap Chat and selfies, not head scarves or burqas. “Fine. I’ll wear the scarf,” she said. “But I think it’s stupid,” she thought.
Sitting at the next gate over was a handsome Persian man in designer blue jeans, black leather shoes, and a tailored white button down shirt. He sat back in his seat with his legs crossed like an old fashioned movie star. His sleeves were casually rolled to just above his wrists. Jen imagined he was a famous athlete or a billionaire playboy. She tried to look at him without making it obvious that she was staring.
“Stop staring, Jena,” said her dad quietly.
“I wasn’t staring!” she hissed. She nearly spilled her drink as she re-situated to face the other direction. She glared at her father, ready to defend herself further when she noticed he was smirking. “Dad!” she said, embarrassed. “It’s not funny!”
“Just finish your drink,” he said warmly. We will board soon." He placed his arm behind her on the back of her chair. Jen considered leaning against him for a brief moment. She had caught a glimpse of the dad she remembered from her childhood, and almost let herself miss him again. One more look at his face was enough to dissuade her from that notion. The warmth and coyness was gone. He was once again the stoic father of her teenage existence.
When the aircraft left the runway and began its steep ascent, Jen felt exhilaration. She giggled out loud, although she was certain no one could hear her above the powerful jet engines propelling them like a rocket into the sky. Outwardly her father looked calm, but his eyes were closed and Jen could see that he was gripping the armrests tightly. “What is there to be afraid of?” she wanted to ask. “You fly all the time! Aren’t you used to it?" Instead, she turned back to the window to watch the earth retreating below, and enjoyed the rush of flying for the first time.
Twelve hours later they were on the ground again. Jen sat at their new departure gate a row over from her father who was reading some kind of business report he’d brought with him. She was sitting sideways with her feet over the armrest talking with her best friend, Sarah. “I’m in Vienna!” Jen said excitedly into the phone. “I know! I mean I’m only in the airport, but it’s still so cool!" She giggled and with an exaggerated British accent said, “I’m so very sophisticated dahling." They talked and giggled for a few more minutes and then Jen said, “Sarah, we’ll be boarding soon and I promised to call my mom, so…." She smiled at Sarah’s response and said, “I will. Love you, too. Bye!”
Jen opened her recent call list and selected “Mom” from near the top. Glancing at the battery icon she noticed it was nearly depleted. “Great,” she said as she put the phone to her ear and pulled the charging block and cord from her jacket pocket. Looking left and right, she saw an outlet in the base of a nearby pillar. She swung her legs down in front of her and got up. Still waiting for the call to connect, she plopped down in the seat next to the pillar and reached down only half looking at the outlet. The phone started to ring. After several unsuccessful attempts to plug it in, she looked down in frustration. “What the hell?”
“Excuse me?” said her mother’s voice.
Simultaneously cringing and looking immediately to make sure her father was still seated where he had been Jen said, “Mom! Oh geez! I’m sorry! Some jerk put a sticker on the wall that looks like an outlet and I’ve been trying to plug into it for like five minutes." She waved her hands as she spoke as if her mom could see it.
Her mom laughed briefly and then said, “I understand your frustration, but that is pretty funny!" Then she asked, “How are things going with your dad? Are you two getting along?”
Jen sat back and crossed her arms as she spoke. “Yeah, things are going okay. He’s not really interested in talking or doing anything, but he’s being nice. We’re in Vienna right now. Mom, I only have a few minutes until boarding…should I put on my hijab and tunic now?"
“You probably should Jena. There could be people on the plane that would try to cause your father trouble later if you wait until you land. It is against the law to go uncovered once you get to Iran, so it’s best to get used to it now if you can."
Jen sighed and looked over at her carry-on, still sitting next to the seat she was just in. “Hey!" There was somebody looking in her bag. “Hey! That’s mine!” she shouted. The teenage boy looking through her bag ignored her.
“Jena?” her mom asked.
Jen dropped her phone and charger on the seat and rushed over to her bag. The boy left the bag and ran off just before she got there. She quickly looked through her bag. Nothing seemed to be missing. Her dad hurried over and asked if she was okay. “I’m fine dad,” she said through adrenalin jitters as she unpacked and re-packed her bag. “Mom!” she said remembering the phone call.
Picking her bag up she turned to retrieve her phone…and it was gone. “No!” she said in defeat. “Dad, they got my phone!" Just then the boarding announcement was made and Jen felt like crying. Her father squeezed her arm and walked to the podium. He briefly spoke to the flight attendant, an Iranian woman, in Farsi. She nodded and looked sympathetic as she said something back, but Jen couldn’t understand any of what was said. She waved at a nearby security guard and he hurried over. He was obviously Austrian, but spoke English quite well. He seemed serious as Jen’s father spoke to him in English. Her dad gestured to Jen a few times as he spoke and showed the guard his own phone as an example of what was taken. After the guard said a few words, her father wrote some information on the back of his business report and handed it to the guard. The guard nodded and walked back to where he had been standing. He keyed the mic on his radio and seemed to read what Jen’s father had written into it. He glanced at them and nodded once at Jen’s father. Then he turned his back on them.
“What happened?” Jen asked her dad.
“Not much Jena,” he said with a disappointed look. “They took my contact info and said we would get a call if they find it. Why can’t you be more careful Jena? That was a very expensive phone.”
“This is my fault?” Jena asked incredulously. “Really? That’s so unfair!”
Her father sighed and looked up briefly. “Jena, I did not mean it that way. Just…please stay close to me from now on." He looked her in the eyes and placed his hands on her shoulders. “The criminals who do these things are less likely to try when you are near me, okay?"
She was still angry at her dad, but even more-so at herself. She said, “Fine. Can we go now?"
They walked together to the podium and were checked through the door. Jen pulled the hijab out of her bag and looped it around her head as they walked down the jet-way. They stopped when they reached the line of passengers ahead of them. “Is it okay if I wait until we get in the air to put on the tunic?” she asked her dad.
“Yes, Jena. That is fine,” he said. “By the way, I’m glad you are okay,” and he put his arm around his daughter for the first time in many years. Jena closed her eyes and leaned into him. Something hard inside of her crumbled and she felt tears stream down her face. The line started moving again, and her father took his arm back. They walked in silence to their seats, but Jen felt closer to her dad than she had in a long time.
Chapter Two
Tehran’s IKA airpo
rt was a surprise to Jen. She half expected it to be rundown or outdated, but it was modern and well maintained. There were people of all kinds, just like any other airport. Tourists and locals alike arrived and departed together. Many of them were smiling and conversing as if this were a happy place to live and visit. “Could it be?” she thought. There were advertisements, televisions, duty free shops, and escalators. She saw pictures of a sprawling metropolis with skyscrapers, gardens, and parks. “Is that Tehran?” she wondered. “Are there actually trees here?" She had pictured Iran as a desolate wasteland filled with sand dunes, rocks, and camel riding Bedouins. She felt silly for that when she remembered seeing news stories about Iran developing nuclear energy. “You gotta be pretty civilized to try harnessing nuclear power,” she reasoned. She also remembered news stories about Iran being a state sponsor of terrorism. That sobered her and caused her to look around more suspiciously. Her father seemed to walk faster since stepping off the jet-way. “I wonder if he feels like he’s home,” Jen thought.
From the top of the escalator she could see the framework of the massive arching roof. Towering concrete pillars were topped by a framework of steel support beams that gave the impression of modern Islamic arches. The baggage claim area was a huge room. It had shining marble floors and silver luggage carousels. It was 3:00am and pitch dark outside, so the only thing Jen could see in the windows was a reflection of the airport interior. She longed to see the city for herself. Being here, and seeing first hand that this was a modern country with friendly people, made her wonder if she had been wrong about her father all along.
While her father waited for their bags, Jen ventured out the nearest door to see what could be seen at this hour. The air was colder than she expected, and she let go of her carry-on and crossed her arms against the crisp breeze. She stayed near the door and leaned out hoping to see farther. A frightening thought gave her a jolt and she reached up in panic to touch her hijab. It was still there. She had not forgotten it, or lost it in the airport. Relaxing, she took hold of her carry-on again.
“I wonder if anyone can tell I’m American?” she thought. “I should totally take a selfie and send it to Sarah!” she thought with a smile. She reached for her back pocket and deflated as she remembered what had happened to her phone. Not smiling anymore, Jen looked up and down the sidewalk. She couldn’t see much of the city from here at this hour. Just as she was about to turn around she noticed a cab light flicker on and the cab pulled up to the curb in front of her. The window rolled down and a haze of cigarette smoke escaped. A thin man with olive skin and sad eyes smiled warmly and beckoned her to come closer. Suddenly feeling foolish for walking outside alone, Jen awkwardly shook her head “No” and went back inside.
“Jen!” her father hissed when she returned to the baggage carousel. “I told you to stay near me. Please, don’t go off by yourself again.”
Jen said, “I know dad. I’m sorry.” As soon as he looked away, she rolled her eyes. “This is going to be a long week."
Jen’s father pulled their luggage off of the carousel and as they were stacking them to roll, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and said, “Salam." He smiled and said a few more words Jen didn’t understand before saying, “Ba’adan mibinamet." He put the phone back in his pocket and went back to situating his bags.
“Who was that?” asked Jen. She had her carry-on stacked on top of her suitcase and was ready to go.
“Sorry Jena, I forget you do not speak Farsi,” said her father apologetically. “I wish you would try to learn." He finished securing his carry-on to one of his suitcases and leaned it against his leg in preparation to roll it behind him. He picked up the other and motioned with his head that they should move toward the door. “It was your Uncle Mahmoud. He said they are up and waiting to greet us when we arrive.”
“Oh, okay. What did ‘babdoo-mabey-namit’ mean?” she asked as she walked beside her father to the same door she had peeked out of earlier.
Her father smiled and calmly said, “Jena, you should not tease. ‘Ba’adan mibinamet’ basically means see you later." He put down his suitcase and held the door open for Jen. They stepped out into the cool night air and staged their luggage near the wall a few feet away. “Stay here while I hail a taxi,” her father instructed. Jen sat on the single suitcase he had been carrying while he walked to the edge of the sidewalk and raised his hand confidently.
Jen saw the same cab from earlier parked just up the way, but this time it did not move. The light on top was off and the driver sat still in the darkened cab. “That’s creepy,” thought Jen as she stared at him. Another taxi, whose light was already on, pulled away from the curb behind the dark cab, and drove around it to pull up next to her father. The driver jumped out and rushed over to help Jena and her father load their bags into the trunk. “Thank you...um…Mamnoon,” said Jen when the driver took her bags. “Khahesh mikonam! You are welcome!” the man replied with a knowing smile and a glance at her father. Her father looked at Jen in surprise and raised one eyebrow. Jen smiled and winked at him, and he nodded his head in approval.
A few moments later they were pulling away from the airport. Jen turned around and saw the other taxi driver still parked and waiting for something or someone. She shrugged it off and turned back to the front. She was finally anxious to meet her father’s family, and to experience the Iran her father was so proud of. As they drove through the dark city streets, Jen looked out the window and remembered her mother telling her how Iran had been when she was a girl.
“Jena, you have to remember, Iran was not always under Sharia Law,” her mother said. “Before the Islamic revolution at the end of the 1970’s, Iran was becoming more and more like the western countries. Women did not have to wear hijabs or cover up at the beach. We could wear bathing suits, skirts, and dresses, just like the Americans. Women attended the university in Tehran as freely as the men." Jen remembered her mother smiling and then looking sad. “The Islamic Revolution changed everything. Suddenly, women above the age of puberty were no longer acceptable in public unless they were covered. Women were no longer allowed a public voice or opinion in things that mattered. Women were beaten and stoned for mistakes and misunderstandings. Women were burned with acid for perceived infidelity." Her mother’s voice trailed off and she sat silently for a moment. Then she said, “You don’t understand how horrible it was Jena." She reached out and touched Jen’s face. “I pray that you never know such horrible things my little bird." Then her mother’s brow furrowed and she looked intently into Jen’s eyes. “Jena, do not be fooled. Sharia is…it is slavery. Your father and I will never agree on that, but you must know it in your heart. A woman can never be truly respected and loved under Sharia Law. It is meant for one thing, and that is domination and control. The women who embrace it are so lost!" She had softened again and added, “Your father is a good man. I am not trying to turn you against him. I love him deeply. He loves you very much and I know he loves me too. He is a good and honest man, but do you understand that believing in the concept of Sharia makes him less than he could be?"
Jen looked at her father in the seat beside her and thought about her mother’s words. “Life is so complicated,” she thought. She looked out the window again and wished her mother was there.
Soon the taxi turned onto a small side street and Jen wondered if they were getting close. At this point she was completely turned around. She wasn’t sure which direction they were going or where the airport was. “If I had my phone I could just check Google Maps,” she thought. She tried to pick out landmarks she might recognize during daylight, but everything looked the same in the dark. In fact, she couldn’t be sure that they weren’t going in circles. Her father said something to the driver, and the taxi stopped in front of a white single family home with a grass lawn and decorative trees in the front yard. Jen shook her head slowly. “What the heck is going on?” she thought. “Nothing is how I expected it.”
The driver opened the trunk as the
y exited the taxi, and with his help they unloaded their bags. Her father paid the driver with Iranian rial that he had exchanged for at the airport in Vienna. A light came on over the front door of the house, as the taxi driver climbed back in and pulled away.
Jen and her father collected their bags and walked up the drive toward the house. When they were only a few steps away the front door opened and Jen saw her Uncle Mahmoud and Aunt Fatima in person for the first time. It was four o’clock in the morning yet the middle aged couple was smiling warmly and dressed as if it were the middle of the day. Her father put down his bags and gave his brother a hug. Then the two men kissed three times. Jen almost giggled, but she knew it was a cultural thing and tried not to seem surprised. Her Aunt, still smiling warmly, came to Jen and spoke to her in accented, but surprisingly good English. “Jena, you are becoming such a beautiful young woman! Masha’ Allah. As God wills it." She gave Jen a big hug.
The four of them gathered up the bags and went inside to the kitchen where something that smelled absolutely delicious was cooking. Jen’s mouth started watering immediately. “Let me show you to your rooms so you can put your things away, and then we’ll eat if you like,” said Aunt Fatima in her heavily accented English.
“Please, Fatima, before we do that I must thank you and Mahmoud for your generous hospitality,” said her father. He unzipped the suitcase he had been carrying and pulled out two packages. He gestured to Jen and himself and said, “We brought you each a small gift that I hope you will enjoy." Jen’s mother and father had explained the tradition of hospitality and gift giving so she was aware it would happen, but she had no idea what gifts they had brought along. She hoped she wouldn’t be put on the spot somehow.