Thursday
December 30, 1999
Iran
Sure, it's very possible
Active resistance to strict hejab rules
By Dokhi Fassihian
December 30, 1999
The Iranian
Second and last part of an article on personal experiences with women's
public appearance in Iran.
During my nine months in Iran, I went to airports and traveled on domestic
flights with sandals, painted toenails, makeup, and a revealing hejab and
was questioned only once at Mashad's airport. A female security guard asked
me to button my top button and pull forward my head scarf. I ignored her
instructions and only acted like I was readjusting my roosari. As I headed
toward the curtain, she called me back.
"Wait, I asked you to close your button."
"Thanks for your concern, but I'm hot and more comfortable this
way," I said softly.
"I understand, but it's not possible, is it?"
With a surge of bravery, I smiled sweetly and took her on.
"Sure it is, it is very possible." >>>
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Culture
Not so fast
Similarities in Christian-Persian traditions may not be what
they seem
By Reza Ordoubadian
December 30, 1999
The Iranian
Even though the Gospel of Matthew passingly mentions "the wise
men from the east," none of the other gospels, nor the rest of the
New Testament, mentions the "Magi." It seems that, through the
ages, the idea has caught on because it lends itself to wonderful theatricality.
It is true that the origin of the word "magi, plural-magus, singular=a
magician, a man of skills" is from the Old Persian (Avestan) word
/maguS/ (magush), referring to the Zoroastrian priests, it was borrowed
by the Greeks and then by the Romans (/magos/ and /magus/) long before
the advent of Christianity.
Since borrowing of words (not necessarily the content because each borrowed
word is normalized in the language which has borrowed it) is a natural
process of language making; as such the word must be accepted as a Greek-o-Roman
lexicon, and not Persian >>>
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Wednesday
December 29, 1999
Iran
My lemon yellow roosari
My hejab had to say something about me
(Part 1)
By Dokhi Fassihian
December 28, 1999
The Iranian
I braved Tehran's summer heat one day after work and went shopping near
the crowded Vali Asr Square. I was having an all-linen summer manteau sown
and wanted the perfect buttons for it. At the time, I only had a black
manteau I bought in the spring when the weather was still cool. When summer
came to Tehran, I endured a magnificent sauna inside the polyester garb.
When I took off the manteau, steam would rise off my body.
It was almost impossible to find plain medium-sized bone-colored buttons,
even in Tehran's button district! Everything was hideously gaudy, just
like the ready-made manteaus I was trying to avoid. Near the meydoon, I
saw a store with bright fabric beaming from its window. Wow, a roosari
shop! >>>
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Music
Andy
The Iranian
December 28, 1999
My daughter reached for the CD player in the car
and put on some music. She asked me if I knew who the singer was. I didn't.
She said it was Andy. "Andy?!" I asked as if I was being force-fed
a chocolate-flavored diarrhetic.
Truth is that I had never heard his music before
-- except for 15 second video clips on Iranian TV stations now and then.
My impression was that he's the worst of Iranian music in exile -- silly,
devoid of any musical value and good for that certain LA crowd. And dude,
what's up with that headband?
When my daughter played his "Tanhaie" CD in the car, I only heard two songs. Based on that,
I still would not rank Andy close to Ebi or Daryoush. But, hey, I enjoyed
it. I really did. Has my taste deteriorated? I don't know. All I can say
is that it was fun and entertaining. I guess dad's genes (Aghassi) have
passed on >>>
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Monday
December 27, 1999
Cover story
Remember?
That was me, that was you, that was us
December 27, 1999
The Iranian
When I saw these pictures at a friend's house last week, I thought of
all the incredible things that have happened to us, our families and our
people in the 20th century. The oldest photo here might be 60-70 years
old. But they all seem like ancient history. Where were we then and where
are we now? I guess what matters most is where we are heading. But that
doesn't make these pictures any less fascinating >>>
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Friday
December 24, 1999
Family
Thinking of you
Never got to meet my Amu Hamid and Ameh Nahid
By Roozbeh Shirazi
December 24, 1999
The Iranian
I watch American grandparents beam over their new grandchildren, aunts
and uncles chide their nieces about colleges and boyfriends, and I watch
cousins play chess and chase each other around while uncles get quietly
drunk with nephews in a corner.
I use these images and then desperately try to substitute the faces
of American strangers with Iranian ones -- the grandfathers who I never
got to meet, my Amu Hamid and my Ameh Nahid and Ameh Aghdas and Ameh Pari.
I try to picture me laughing and talking about women with my arms around
my cousins Babak, Arash and Miad -- whose voices I hear once or twice a
year -- instead our awkward Noruz fiber optic family experiences >>>
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