A Beginner's Guide to Acting English
Page 31
'Can't he just be Charlie from London?' I had asked and the lady with the clipboard shook her head. 'Where are his parents from?'
'Nottingham and Tehran.'
'Shall I put "mixed race" then?' she asked.
'The whole world is mixed race,' I'd told her.
'White?' she suggested
'He's pink,' my husband said. 'Is there a box to tick for pink?'
The lady with the clipboard laughed and said, 'I'll just put "other",' and went off to determine the ethnicity of the other babies in the ward.
Maman shook her head and sighed. 'What does it matter what ethnicity he is? He's only just come into the world.'
Despite his English father coming from a fine Nottinghamshire mining family, my son is 'other' like me. There is something liberating about this. We 'others' are not defined by the colour we are or by the place we happen to have been born.
When the nurse finally came to tell my chattering, cooing family to leave me to rest, my father handed her a camera. 'Please, can you take one picture of my family?'
Despite herself, the nurse took the camera from my father and my family gathered in close for a picture with my newborn son.
'Perfect!' Baba said, looking at it. 'This picture is going into next month's Asghar Agha!'
With one last chorus of tadadadada! from my father and kisses from the others, my family left my son and me to sleep.
POSTSCRIPT: MYKONOS
On 17 September 1992, four dissidents, three Kurds and one Lur, were murdered by machine-gun fire at the Mykonos restaurant in Berlin.
In the subsequent trial, which lasted three and a half years, it was proven that the order for this and other murders and attempted assassinations of Iranian dissidents had come from the highest echelons of the Islamic Republic of Iran's government.
Witness 'C' in the trial, later revealed as Mr Abolghassem Farhad Mesbahi, a senior intelligence official of the Islamic Republic of Iran, testified that he had known of orders for the assassination of dissidents abroad that had been signed by the Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Khomeini. Khomeini had personally approved hits on critics of the regime submitted to him by Hojatolleslam Ali Fallahian.
Standing as a key witness, Mesbahi told the court: 'I myself, in another case, saw such an order with Khomeini's signature, although I was not the operation commander. This case regarded Khousru Harandi.'
'Khousru Harandi' was the code name for 'Hadi Khorsandi', their intended victim.
'Mohammad Musavizadih, the Deputy of Mohammad Reyshahri, then Minister of Intelligence and Security, came to Dusseldorf with a copy of the order. There, he [Musavizadih] and I met with the head of the hit team and his deputy ... I was their interpreter and translated the order from Farsi to French.'1
1 Documents of the Mykonos Case, 171-2 and 194-5 (Mihran Payandih et al. trans, 2000), 25.
During the course of the trial, details emerged that 'a fat man, and a very fat man' were to walk outside Khorsandi's house, 65A Madeley Road, wait for him to come out, then shoot him. They were then to run to the getaway car which was to be driven by a female member of the team.
The code the team were to use to indicate they were ready to proceed with the assignation was 'farda jashn-ra ramindazeem' – 'Tomorrow we start the celebrations'.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I wrote much of this book in the first year of my son's life, so first and foremost a standing ovation to the babysitters, Maman Fati, Baba Hadi, Nana and Grandad Perry and Judy 'Joodalee' Masters. Also, Arghavan who took such loving care of my boy and showed such extraordinary friendship to us all.
My heartfelt thanks to my wonderful agent, Addison Cresswell and everyone at Off The Kerb, especially Damon. You are all diamonds.
To Andrew Goodfellow for his creative direction, expertise and advice. Justine Taylor, Rowan Yapp and everyone at Ebury whose input was much appreciated.
My love and thanks to Penny Sargin for putting a roof over my head in the wilderness years and for being my sister in all but DNA.
More love and more thanks to friends who came to dinner, said wise things and made me laugh, especially Niall Smith, Hannah McBain, Chloe Bayram, Jim Leovold, Lida Joon, Tara Flynn, Hils Barker, Sarah Kendall and Dylan Satow. Also to Hatef Mansoubi and Mr M. Mostafavi for always making time for my family. To my inimitable Auntie Nadia, on whose humour, love, support and loyalty I have come to depend, thanks khaleh! Also thanks to my cousin Daniel, Dayee Mahmood and Sarah Amsler and my lovely Amoo's Kamal and Mansoor.
To my grandmother Shamsi Ayaz and my Ameh Ashraf. Thank you for trusting me with your stories.
There are too many to mention but to the characters and friends who have come in and out of our lives over the years, thank you all for your exuberance, hospitality and friendship, especially Ali Reza Taheri and Zarineh Joon, two of my favourite people to drink with and talk with.
I will never find the words to adequately thank my parents who enable me to be a working mum. My magnificently patient Maman, thank you for tolerating your grumpy daughter with such kindness and grace. You are the unsung hero of our family, always making sacrifices and never speaking a whisper of them. Also, Maman, thanks for always saying girls were just as good as boys at everything and for never saying I couldn't be an actress and a part-time vet. My Baba, my chief advisor and fellow lover of bric-a-brac. Thank you for all your support and understanding and for being so funny and clever and kind. You taught us that generosity and compassion are more valuable qualities than wealth and prestige, a lesson which left us overdrawn but never lonely (who were all those people?!) I am so proud of you, my brave Baba. Thank you both for all you do for me.
Peyvand, the other, sweeter pea in the pod. Thank you for sharing my childhood, for always making me laugh until I cry and for always letting me have the biggest piece. We went through a lot you and me, thanks for bearing the brunt and always breaking my fall. To this day you look after your little sister and I'd be lost without you. I'm sorry for all the times I poured water on your head as you slept.
There is a little boy I must thank who grew in my belly, learned to sit-up, crawl, then walk as I wrote this. You light up your mummy's life every day my giggling, waddling little drunk! I think your wall drawings are marvellous and will never paint over them. Maman doret begardeh!
Finally, my endless love and thanks to my husband Christian who woke me up then everything was wonderful.
Table of Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
PROLOGUE: NEW ARRIVALS
PART 1
LONDON CALLING
LONDON
HYDE PARK
BACK IN IRAN
MARCOURT LAWNS
A NEW GUEST AT THE PARTY
PART 2
MONTPELIER SCHOOL
CINEMA REX
MASOOD
16 JANUARY 1979
ASGHAR AGHA
JUST LIKE HER FATHER
IRAN–IRAQ WAR
MADELEY ROAD
MADAR JAAN
NATIVITY PLAY
ASSEMBLY
BEING ENGLISH
ONSTAGE
MAHSA
PART 3
GETTING OLDER
BRAINWASHING
RANA DEAN
THE PHONE CALL
TERRORISTS IN MADELEY ROAD
WITH ENEMIES LIKE THESE...
SAFE AT HOME
ROWS ABOUT CHEESE
SCHOLARS
RANA
REFUGEES
EPILOGUE: A NEW ARRIVAL
POSTSCRIPT: MYKONOS
Acknowledgements
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