Life

Generation V

In my late 30s I feel very old or old-fashioned at best. I remember my mom’s words when I was a teenager and she was giving me grown-up advice. Once she asked me if I knew why crows lived 300 years? I replied with a half-open mouth and popped-up eyes, “they live 300 years?” She said, “yes, and it’s because no-one has ever seen them mating in public." My mom’s mystical approach to sexuality not only stayed with me but it evolved as I did>>>

A prayer for hope

In the early hours of Saturday, I set our Nowruz spread. I grew up in a household of ceremonies and rituals. Everything was a BIG deal to my parents, worthy of time, attention, and love. Of all the ceremonies celebrated in my childhood, however, nothing was as big as Nowruz. Weeks of preparations and cleaning chores and shopping delivered my family into the moments the year changed, the biggest deal of the year. I left my parents' home when I was 18. Whatever I learned there has obviously made a serious impact on me! >>>

Mano Gonjishka

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Predictions of a Great Guru

When I was a kid growing up in the small city of Shahr-e-Rey, about ten kilometers south of Tehran, where its major industry was importing corps and exporting Bacheh Akhond, baby mullahs, most exciting entertainment in our daily life was to sit around with the other kids watching each other grow. Moving to the capital, Tehran was the most stimulating experience in my life. Everything appeared unimaginably different: much bigger, shinier, newer, and on the grandest of scales, so spectacular that could drive a kid literally mad>>>

I know I’m in the right place

I am passionate-borderline obsessed- with food. My philosophy: if you can make it, why buy it? I jump fences to pick lemons, I make my own apple cider vinegar, I own nine aprons, and I’ve been known to swoon over the vibrant leaves of my garden’s purple potatoes. I’m stubborn in my ways of healthy eating and I (used to) think white rice is akin to a bowl of sugar. However, in the past several months, I’ve learned not only how to tame my convictions, but that above all else, food is celebratory. After graduating from Bauman College, a Nutritional Education and Culinary Arts school, I began an internship cooking lunches for an Iranian language immersion school>>>

Toro Yadam Miyareh

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Journey to Alamut

There is probably no other place in Iran better known around the world than the fortress of Alamut. This place has spawned so many legends of paradisiacal gardens, beautiful houris, intoxicated hashish addicts, ruthless assassins and other fanciful nonsense that they have reached to the utmost limits of incredulity. Yet for all that, it is a truly awe-inspiring place. Even had you known nothing of its religious or political history; even if you had never heard of Hasan Sabbah, of the Assassins, the Ismailis or the grand proclamation of the Qiyamat, this place would seize the mind of any casual traveller who beheld it>>>

Women's story

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A New Year For All

Each Norooz, I journey in my mind back to the home of my childhood. There, as the shield of ice on the small pond began to disappear, clay pots of hyacinth, cinerarias and cyclamens were brought out of the greenhouse, and the flowerbeds along the driveway displayed purple and yellow pansies. But I soon realize that that was in Iran, a life that seems more and more like a distant dream. Chicago winters were colder than in Mashad, and its Norooz isolated, if not lonely. Still, overlooking the fact that only a few thousand Iranians were scattered throughout a city of seven million>>>

IRI vs. Ziba Kazemi

What a day! On march 8, 2010, on the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day, we were at Montreal’s courthouse for the last day of trial for Ziba Kazemi’s case against the Islamic Republic of Iran. Trial started at 9:15 AM and ended at 12:15 PM. The courtroom was packet with supporters, many of which were standing in the room while others were waiting outside. A majority of the audience, including Stephan Kazemi, were wearing unified black T-shirts with Ziba kazemi’s portrait printed in front with the phrase “She is still alive” under it>>>

Oil Man

One of the tragedies for this generation of Iranians is that there are no structures in place to capture and house a record of their contributions for posterity. Under present conditions the meaning of the words "the past" and "posterity" has unfortunately become subjected to politics. In 1965 he was the first Iranian to be promoted to become General Refinery Manager. In 1971 he was appointed as an alternate Member of the Board of Directors of the National Iranian Oil Company (N.I.O.C) and the Head of Engineering and Projects Group where he worked until his self initiated retirement in November of 1974>>>

This is for You

To mark international women's day I decided I should write about three Iranian women whom I came to know well when living in Iran just before Ahmadinejad's first term. The three of them worked for me as housekeepers/babysitters and my knowledge of their lives is limited to our employer/employee relationship and class differences. But we spent a lot of time together and often our talks and interactions were more intimate than those I had with women I knew socially. For whatever it is worth I thought that I should expose the lives of three very ordinary Iranian women from different backgrounds and different sensibilities. This is for them>>>