by Sidney Wood
Her aunt and uncle received their gifts graciously and opened them. Jen was a little excited to see what the gifts would be. Her uncle opened his first. It was a bag of Texas coffee with a matching mug. He beamed and said he would have some Texas coffee this morning with his meal. Aunt Fatima’s gift was an American Indian hand woven scarf with an accompanying card that described the cultural significance of the pattern. She draped it over her head and looked to her husband for approval. He smiled warmly and nodded in affirmation. Jen had to admit, those were pretty cool gifts for someone who had never been to Texas. She wondered if someday her aunt and uncle might come visit them in America. She decided she would make sure to ask before the return trip home.
Jen followed her aunt up the narrow wooden stairs to a short hall way with white walls and three brown wooden doors. Door number one, nearest the top of the stairs opened to her father’s bedroom. Door number two opened to her room. There was a single bed on top of a patterned rug. Next to the bed was a night stand with a small silver lamp on top. A dresser stood against one wall with just enough room to squeeze by next to the bed. The other wall was occupied by a shallow closet with plenty of hangers for Jen to use. She stepped into her room and put her bags near the closet. She did not see what was behind door number three.
“Are you hungry Jena?” asked her aunt as Jen was setting her things down. “You are welcome to eat now, or after you’ve had some rest.”
“Thank you Aunt Fatima,” Jen said with an apologetic smile. “It smells delicious, but I am suddenly very tired. I think I might just crash for a while if that’s okay.”
Her aunt stood in the doorway with a puzzled look on her face. After an awkward moment, her eyes grew wide and she smiled. “Oh! I understand. Crash means sleep." She covered her mouth and giggled at the misunderstanding. “Yes, sleep Jena. I will save some for when you awake."
Jena giggled and thanked her aunt. She gently closed the door once Fatima had left the room and threw herself on the bed. “I’ll unpack in a little bit,” she thought just before falling asleep.
Sometime later there was a knocking on her door, and then her father’s voice, “Jena? Are you awake?" Jen pushed her face up from the bed and realized she was still lying on top of the covers and fully dressed.
“Um, just a minute please." Jen looked around the room for some indication of the time. She suddenly realized she had no way of telling the time without her phone. “That’s just great." She rolled off the bed and stood up. She stretched with a groan and walked to the door. “Yes?” she asked as she opened the door.
“I was hoping you would come down and join us for some supper,” he said. “You’ve been asleep all day. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Really? I slept all day? Wow, it doesn’t feel like it. Okay, I’m coming down. Oh wait…dad?" She opened the door slightly and asked, “Where’s the bathroom?"
Her father pointed to the door at the end of the hall. “Aha,” she said once inside. “Door number three.”
Several minutes later Jen walked quietly down the stairs. She heard voices in the kitchen and smelled something even more delicious than the food she smelled when they arrived. She immediately started salivating and quickened her step hoping to taste some of her aunt’s delicious cooking. When she walked into the kitchen she froze. There was a stranger at the table sitting with her aunt and uncle and her dad. It was a boy. He was plain looking, with bushy eyebrows and a pronounced under-bite. “Salaam,” she said to the table as she entered the kitchen.
Everyone turned toward her smiling, and then their faces fell. “What? Oh my God, what did I do wrong?” she thought in a panic. The boy swallowed and looked nervously at her uncle and then at her dad. Her uncle sighed and turned back toward the table. “Oh no,” she thought. She felt tears coming, and looked pleadingly at her father. “What is it?” she screamed inside. Her aunt smiled warmly and hurried to her. Fatima gestured toward the stairs and walked out of the kitchen with Jen. “Aunt Fatima, I am so sorry! What did I do wrong?”
“It is nothing Jena. You were not raised here, so it is not unexpected or so bad, especially not inside our home. It is your hijab, Jena. You must not forget to wear it whenever you are outside or when any adult men are around. Do you understand?"
Jen sucked in a breath and put her hand on her head in shock. “Oh no! I forgot it! I am sorry!" She retrieved it from the bed and quickly wrapped it the way her mother had shown her.
“Relax Jena,” said her aunt warmly. “You have done nothing wrong. Your uncle is old and grumpy sometimes, but he forgets that I knew him many years ago before Sharia law ruled here. He wanted to be a cowboy like John Wayne!" They both giggled at that and Fatima gave her a hug. “Okay, are you ready to try this again?”
“Whew,” said Jen after taking a deep breath and letting it out. “Okay, I’m ready!” she smiled and they walked back to the kitchen.
Jen sat next to her father and across from the boy her uncle introduced as Arman. He was sixteen and the youngest of four brothers. Uncle Mahmoud explained to Jen that he worked with Arman’s father and oldest brother in the public works ministry. Arman’s father was an engineer like Uncle Mahmoud. Arman and his oldest brother were studying to be engineers as well.
Soon, Jen had forgotten the embarrassment from earlier and was having a great time talking and listening to everyone. She was content to participate when asked direct questions and listen politely when the conversation carried on without her. She amused herself when the others spoke Farsi by silently assigning ridiculous meaning to the mysterious words. She was sure her father wondered why she was smiling so enthusiastically. “He probably thinks I am just super happy to be here!” she mused. She almost laughed out loud at her own cleverness when she imagined her dad, uncle, and Arman were talking about making dresses, as they spoke seriously and used hand gestures to emphasize descriptions of some sort of structure or process.
Aunt Fatima watched her. She was obviously amused that Jen was experiencing some sort of pleasure amidst the serious discussion. “Jena,” she finally said. She was leaning in close and speaking softly to avoid interrupting the ongoing conversation between the men. “Would you like to go shopping with me tomorrow? I would like to introduce you to some of my friends and show you some more of Tehran. Would you like that?”
Jen smiled genuinely and nodded. ‘That would be awesome! Yes, please!” she answered. She looked across the table and caught Arman staring at her from underneath his bushy eyebrows. He did something that looked a bit like a wink, but could have just been a nervous tic. “What the heck is he looking at?” she thought. “Has he been staring at me long?" Then, removing all doubt, he raised one of his bushy eyebrows and smiled. “Oh brother,” Jen thought. She looked away and tried to avoid him for the rest of the evening.
When the adult conversation finally lulled Jen asked her father politely, “Baba, can I go shopping with Aunt Fatima tomorrow?"
Her father looked at her quizzically. Jen had not called him Baba since she was a small child. He smiled and slowly nodded his head in approval. “Yes, Jena,” he said. “You are growing up my Little Bird. Masha’ Allah.”
Jen turned and grinned at her aunt. “How exciting! I get to see the city tomorrow!" Her aunt smiled and squeezed her shoulder affectionately.
A few minutes later, Armand left for the evening and Unlce Mahmoud walked him to the door. Jen’s father stretched his arms up into the air and yawned before standing up and excusing himself from the table. The travel had finally caught up with him and he was ready to sleep.
Jen was just about to excuse herself as well when her uncle said something in Farsi to Aunt Fatima. Aunt Fatima replied in a less than enthusiastic manner and looked apologetically at Jen. Uncle Mahmoud grunted and took a drink of Texas coffee from his new mug before suggesting, “Perhaps Armand can join you as well? He is a good Muslim boy, Jena. Eh?”
Both adults looked to Jen for a response. “Oh great!” she thought. “Seriously? Why
do I always get stuck with the weird boys?" Memories of fourth grade and one particularly long field trip sitting next to “Stinky”h Brian Bradshaw, who was not even cute, came flooding back. Her best friend Sarah was supposed to be her seat partner, but she had wanted to sit next to the new boy, Michael Sawyer. Michael was anything but stinky, and he was definitely cute. As it turned out, Michael Sawyer liked a different girl anyway, so Jen’s sacrifice was for nothing. She brought that up quite a few times over the years; in fact, she made a mental note to bring it up again as soon as she got back to Dallas. Swallowing her pride and biting the sarcastic side of her tongue, Jen answered, “Of course, Uncle. That would be nice." She even managed a weak smile.
Aunt Fatima stood up and put an arm around her shoulder. “At least somebody knows my pain,” thought Jen. Uncle Mahmoud grunted in satisfaction and took a last drink of coffee. He set his mug on the table and stood up with a groan. He laughed and said, “I sound like an old man!" He winked at Jen and kissed Fatima on the cheek before saying good night to them both and leaving the kitchen.
“Aunt Fatima,” Jen said, looking up at her aunt. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not interested in Armand. He kind of creeped me out.”
“Ugh, dear,” Fatima said dramatically. “Your uncle and his ideas...” she shook her head. “That boy was hit by the ugly stick." Jen nearly choked when she heard that and they both laughed for quite some time.
That night, while lying in bed, Jen held her arms outstretched above her and looked at the patterns of light and shadow as she slowly moved her fingers through the air. It was something she had done as long as she could remember. Sarah thought it was weird, but to Jen it was…soothing. It was like watching a mobile hanging from the ceiling as it slowly turned and twisted in a gentle evening breeze. The house was silent, except for the occasional creaking sounds all old houses make.
Just before drifting off to sleep, Jen folded her hands on top of her chest, closed her eyes and prayed. She asked God to watch over her mother and Sarah, and to help her be nice to Armand tomorrow. She thanked him for watching over her and her father as they traveled, and then finished, as always, by asking, “Holy Spirit, please come to my father and mother. Help them understand your power and your peace. In Jesus’ name, Amen." It was a secret ritual she had performed every night since Sarah’s eleventh birthday sleepover, when Sarah and Sarah’s mom had prayed with her and led her to Jesus. Jen had been so afraid that her dad would find out and punish her, but that had never happened. Now she made excuses to stay at Sarah’s whenever she could, and attended youth group with her on most Friday nights. She longed for the day when she could talk openly to her parents about it. She had come so close many times to confiding in her mother, but somehow she knew that even she wouldn’t understand.
Chapter Three
The taxi dropped Jen and her Aunt near the Tehran Bazaar. Jen could not believe how busy it was. There were so many people and so much to see. It was overwhelming! Aunt Fatima held Jen’s arm when they stepped out of the taxi and said, “Jena, it is very important that you stay close to me. We are going to have a wonderful time, but you must promise me that you will stay close. Okay?"
“Yes, Aunt Fatima,” she answered with a smile. “I promise I’ll stay right beside you." Defiantly she thought, “I’m not five." Jen regretted the childish thought and sighed when she remembered her prayer from the night before, and how kind her aunt was being to her. “I can do better,” she thought.
Jen looked toward the opening to the bazaar and couldn’t even see inside it was so crowded. Among the swarms of people she saw a familiar face. Armand walked toward them excitedly from the bazaar entrance. Taking a breath, she resolved to be a good person today. “Salaam,” she said with a polite smile when he got closer.
“Salaam,” he said to Jen’s aunt first. Then he turned to face Jen directly and said, “Salaam, Jena!” with an obvious smile. Jen couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm from seeing her. “He’s kind of adorable in a dorky way,” she thought. “I can’t wait to tell Sarah all about this!”
The three huddled closely together and weaved their way into the crowded bazaar. The ceiling was suspended high above their heads with beautiful ribbed arches. It reminded Jen of a cathedral or a castle. “Wow!” she thought. “This is so cool!" Aunt Fatima said something in Farsi to Armand and he stepped back to get behind Jen. “Is everything okay?” asked Jen.
“Of course, Jena,” said her aunt. “I asked Armand to walk behind us and keep an eye on you." When she saw Jen’s startled expression, she calmly explained, “There is so much to see, and you will be distracted by everything. I don’t want you to get left behind.”
“Oh,” said Jen, still not sure she liked the idea of Armand watching her from behind. “Well, I guess I can think of him as a bodyguard,” she decided. “Look for the silver lining,” she thought. Trying to ignore the awkwardness, she smiled and asked, “Where are we going first?”
Her aunt laughed and put her arm around Jen. “Are women so different in America? We’ll go to the look and clothes and jewelry first, of course! Come, I’ll show you some of my favorite shops." Arm in arm, Jen and her aunt made their way through the bazaar. They stopped at several shops to look at traditional clothing, handmade jewelry and crafts. As they walked on, Jen realized that the bazaar was not contained in a single alley or building. It was a web of interconnected streets, alleys, storefronts and kiosks that would have been easy to get lost in if she had been alone. She made a mental note to thank her aunt and Armand for watching over her.
A vendor with cell phone accessories caught her eye and she stepped closer. She only intended to peek at it from a distance, but some of the cases appeared to have intricate designs painted on them. It reminded Jen of the ladies she saw here in the market with jeweled facial piercings and beautiful makeup, framed within a dramatic black hijab. “I’ll only be a minute, she thought." She walked closer to the display and looked closely at the cases. Everything was so colorful and many of the accessories were fixed with rhinestones or sequins. Jen was more interested in the beautifully painted cases without the additional “shiny stuff” that younger girls would go crazy for. She picked up a white case with black scrollwork. The flowing design was much more sophisticated than the other cases on the wall. She turned it over and nearly coughed at the price tag. “150,000!” she mouthed silently. Then she remembered her father saying something about the exchange rate. It was somewhere near thirty thousand Iranian rial to one US dollar. “That would make this case around five dollars!" Jen turned to ask her aunt if she could buy it.
“Where is she?” Jen turned in a circle. “Where is Armand?" They were gone! Realizing she had done this to herself, she pressed her lips together and quickly inhaled and exhaled through her nose. “This is not good." Jen took a couple of steps away from the kiosk to look up and down the bazaar. “There are just too many people here!" She tried standing on her tip toes, but that made no difference.
A strong hand gripped her arm. She gasped. Jen was spun around and stood face to face with the shop keeper. He looked angry. He said something Jen didn’t understand and gestured at the phone case she was still holding. “Oh!” Jen thought. She held it out to him and tried to apologize. He snatched it from her and turned back to his store. Jen quickly moved down the street in the direction her aunt had been moving. She didn’t want any more trouble. “What if I can’t find them?” she thought. “I have no money and no phone. I don’t even know how to tell a taxi where to take me." She frantically searched the faces surrounding her for her aunt or Armand. “Please!” she begged Jesus quietly. “Please, help me find them!"
Up ahead there was an open area. Jen hurried toward it and moved out of the crowd to find a good vantage point. She came to a busy sidewalk and a two way street. The far side of the street was not nearly as crowded as the side nearest the bazaar. “If I stand over there I can watch for Armand and Aunt Fatima. They will be able to see me easier too,” she
reasoned. Jen wasn’t sure about jaywalking or even traffic patterns, so she followed a few other people who were also crossing the street. Several people were giving her odd looks by now. “Can they tell I’m American?” she wondered. She tried to ignore them and concentrate instead on finding her aunt.
After twenty minutes of waiting and watching, Jen decided to go walking back through the bazaar. “They’re probably looking for me right by that cell phone shop,” she thought. She followed two twenty-something men across the street and into the bazaar. “All the women are wearing full length clothes and hijabs, but the men are wearing whatever the heck they want,” she observed. She could feel a drop of sweat sliding down her back. “That’s not unfair or anything!” she complained. She wanted so badly to rip the scarf off of her head and just start shouting for her aunt. “Why should I be punished for being a woman! I don’t even live here!"
Jen took a calming breath and sighed. She looked around carefully. She was back in front of the cell phone accessory kiosk so her aunt should be nearby. She spun in a slow circle. Nothing. “Ugh, why didn’t I just tap her on the arm!" Jen felt defeated. She crossed her arms in sort of a self-hug and walked farther into the bazaar. She passed by some shops she recognized and many she did not. Soon, she stopped seeing shops she recognized.
It had been over an hour since she lost her aunt and Armand. Jen felt like crying. “I feel so stupid!” she thought, and she looked down at her feet in shame. “Please God, help me!” she prayed for the hundredth time that day. Lifting her head, she looked around again and saw that she was near another open area. Jen hurried ahead and found a good vantage point like before. She determined to stay put and wait as long as it took to find her aunt. As before, people walking by gave her strange looks. Women and men alike frowned at her and seemed to look about the area as if wondering who she belonged to. “Mind your own business!” she wanted to shout.