فریاد قلم

I was going to write in Farsi.  I like writing in Farsi better.  But the machine I'm using doesn't have the Farsi fonts installed on it...sad.

Yes it's sad.

Sad, just like my mood these days.

But it's not a regular sad...no, my mood is more of a deep sad...it reminds me of 20 years ago...it's that same deep sad...

We had just moved to the US and were living in Maryland. My Mom, who had never worked a day in her life was working from 10pm to 7am then from 7am to 3pm at a hospital.   So we (being me 11 then and my 5 year old little brother) never really got to see her...she would get home around 3:30pm which was about the same time we got home from school, and she'd sleep till 9pm when she would wake up to go back to work...and she did this 6 days a week.

I used to go to school and then come home and deliver newspapers (that's how I made extra money to help out) and then I'd make something for my brother and I to eat (usually cheese sandwiches!!! it was cheap and delicious) and then we'd do our homework, play a little and lay our blankets and pillows in the living room and watch TV until we slept...

My Father, well, my Father used to be the modire hesabdari at sherkate naft then sherkate Yek o Yek...until the revolution when he quit and started his own contracting business.  My grandmother used to say that he was really smart when he was in school and that's why he had gotten such a good job...she used to say that he was so good in math that he used to teach college while he was in college!  Anyways, as I've said in previous blogs, the one thing that stands out about my Father is his calm and prestigious demeanor...if I find a picture I'll put it up...

When we came here, my Father took all his degrees to some place for evaluation and began applying for jobs...of course there was the language issue but he was going to ESOL school too...until one day when he got a job interview!  He wasn't sure how to get to the place and we didn't have a car so he would have to walk a good distance and I volunteered to go with him :) It was great, I helped my Dad pick out his best suit and tie and we both walked hand in hand until we got to the place...the place was an "Inn" kind of like a hotel but mostly used for events like weddings.  It was beautiful and I was so excited and was sure they would hire my Father.  I sat in the lobby and waited for my Dad for what seemed like hours...when I saw him I jumped up and ran over to him and asked if he'd gotten the job?  he said "are dokhtaram, az pasfarda shoru mikonam"  but he didn't seem as happy as I was.  On the way I asked him what he'd be doing and what his office looked like and he said "na babajoonam, daftar behem nemidan, adam bayad az payin shoru kone ta be bala berese"...when I looked up at him I saw that he had tears on his cheeks.  It broke my heart.  I asked him why he was crying and he said he said sometimes when you get sad; you have to cry to let it out.  Later that night I heard him tell my Mom on the phone that if he would've known he wouldn't have walked in there with his doctorates degree and a suit...it turns out my Father was hired to clean the floors from 2pm to 10pm...

My Dad's tears that day made me the saddest girl in the whole entire world. I hadn't realized that he could cry.  I didn't know what to do, what to say, or what not to say.  I was just sad.  A deep sad.  I cried so much that night.  I cried for my Mom and my Dad.  I felt like they had given up all of their own comfort and lives, just for me to have a better future.  I was sad and I had to let it out.   When we got home my Father played Banan.   He always listened to Ostad Banan when he was sad.  And I've taken after my Father too.

It's been 20 years now that I listen to Banan when I'm sad.  I listen to Banan and I paint...

Neda's eyes, her father, the sound of shoes hitting the pavement as people run, the news, the gun shots, the blood, the tears...the tears make me sad.  I can't handle tears.  They make me so sad.  A deep sad.

Nothing left to do to calm down but to turn to Banan and cry.

My favorite song. The only song that makes me forget.  Ostad Banan va Daylaman, and my very first painting which says "Iran", dedicated to all the fathers, mothers and kids who have been forced to feel sad.  A deep sad.

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zjm2SHF7Uhg