Camelia (33 page)

Pouring my heart out in this private meeting was a great release. I found renewed strength in my journalistic work and was encouraged to cover Khatami's travels and Iranian foreign relations, mostly for the Associated Press and the
Village Voice
in New York. The next time I met Abtahi in person was at an OPEC summit in Caracas, where he told me he'd held several meetings with the Minister of Intelligence, Agha-ye Ali Yunusi, and that Khatami had requested all my files from the judiciary.

Working for the AP, I embarked on travels throughout the Middle East. Khatami continued to treat me with special kindness, and I had the distinction of interviewing him at a summit of leaders from the Muslim world in Qatar. How satisfying it was for me to have Agha-ye Khatami address me personally by name and ask me how I was doing in front of hundreds of people. I traveled freely from Qatar to Saudi Arabia and from Saudi Arabia to Egypt and from Egypt to the United Arab Emirates. But I never returned to Iran. I posted translations of my articles on an Iranian
Web site to share my liberation with those still working under censorship and fear.

 

“Your files have been lost by the judicial authorities,” Agha-ye Abtahi told me finally. Apparently, the Ministry of Intelligence had been displeased that Khatami was investigating my case. He had helped me as much as he could, but it was shocking to realize again the limits of Khatami's power.

In Qatar, I approached Khatami as he was leaving his hotel, and said, “
Khoda hafez
, Agha-ye Khatami.” He smiled and said, “Come along, let's go to Tehran together.”

“If you give me a letter guaranteeing my protection . . .”

He answered, “I don't know whether anyone can protect any of us when we get to Tehran.”

I stood at the hotel entrance and watched Khatami walk away, as the delegation that had come with him passed me by. Another cleric, Agha-ye Du'ai, stopped and told me, “Pray for us
and
for Agha-ye Khatami.”

And thus immigration and self-imposed exile led me unexpectedly to the life I'd always wanted, full of freedom, security, and journalistic opportunities. In prison, I'd begun a metamorphosis, and now my cocoon was breaking open. It wasn't easy, but I slowly spread my wings. Jean helped me with my visa and encouraged me to apply for political asylum. Other new friends helped me find a place to live and freelance writing jobs.

For a year I had the same nightmare that I was back in the airplane on the tarmac at Mehrabad airport, returning to Tehran. I would suddenly realize that I wasn't going home to my family but returning to Amir. I imagined he would torture me to death, and I
would beg the British Airways crew to let me stay on the plane. Then the nightmares receded as I turned my full attention to continuing my studies.

No one in my family could attend my graduation ceremony, only a few friends. But I knew that my father could see me walking up to receive my diploma, just as he'd watched me hiding under a sofa in a stranger's home and all the rest of that dangerous game, and that he could now finally find peace in his grave.

The last e-mail from Amir came in the spring of 2004. I have no idea whether he still has his job and his rank or if he has been dismissed. Perhaps his heart is full of hate. Maybe my silence over the past six years led him to believe that I would never tell this story. But I do know that, until the last moment of his life, he will remember my hands. The hands that spoke to him of love. The hand that he lifted up in his own on one of those days when we drove aimlessly through Tehran. The hand that he placed on the gearshift and covered with his own hot grasp when he said, “You don't know what extraordinary hands you have. I've fallen in love with your hands.”

My niece, Yasbanu, now four years old, was firmly clenching a gift for me in her hands. We were in Dubai, and it was the first time I'd seen my family after a whole year, the first of my exile. She had grown so much.

I asked Yasbanu, “What is this, little auntie? Open your hands so I can see it.”

“A star,” my sister said. “She's brought you a blue star.”

It was a funnily shaped piece of blue paper. Katayun said, “It's
like
a star. She painted it and cut it out for you herself.”

Yasbanu was waiting anxiously for my reaction, her upturned face yearning for approval. I kissed her. “You are a star. My little star.”

Abrar
:
The Righteous, the name of a newspaper.

Afarineshha-ye Adabi:
Literary Creations, the name of a creative writing center.

Aftab-e Yazd
:
The Yazd Sun. Yazd is a city in central Iran.

Aftabgardan
:
Sunflower.

agha:
Equivalent to “mister” or if used to address a stranger, “sir.”

alif
:
The letter “a.”

alif to yeh
:
Equivalent to “a to z.”

Allahu Akbar
:
God is greatest.

aluche-ye kisa'i
:
Mashed prunes sold in plastic wrappers.

Ashura:
The tenth day of the lunar month of Moharrem when Shi'a muslims commemorate the martyrdom of Imam Hussein.

ayatollah:
High-ranking Shi'a cleric.

Azadi:
Liberty, the name of a radio station and various squares and other landmarks in Tehran.

bab
:
Literally “gateway.” Used here to refer to the people claiming to deliver messages to the twelfth imam.

bah, bah, bah:
Exclamation of admiration or extreme approval.

Bahman:
February.

Basij:
Volunteer militia.

befarma'id
:
A polite entreaty to “help yourself” or “go ahead.”

Behesht-e Zahra:
Literally “the paradise of Zahra, daughter of the Prophet.” A large, well-known cemetery outside of Tehran.

Bulvar-e:
Boulevard.

chador:
Clothing worn by women in Iran to ensure that the hair, neck, and body are properly covered.

Chahararshanbeh-ye Suri:
Literally “the Wednesday of the red rose.” The last Wednesday before the Iranian New Year.

chelow kebab
:
Grilled meat (usually lamb) with rice and grilled tomatoes on the side.

dabirestan
:
High school.

dawyus
:
Cuckold.

djinn:
A spirit, often evil or mischievous.

dokht
:
Daughter.

doogh
:
A sour yogurt drink.

Etela'at
:
Intelligence, the name of a newspaper.

fal
:
A kind of fortune telling, where hidden knowledge is divined, for instance, from coffee grounds or poetry.

Faravahar:
A winged disc that represents the Zorastrian deity Ahura Mazda.

Farmandeh:
Commander.

fatwa
:
An Islamic ruling by a religious authority that may forbid certain practices or condemn the actions of an individual.

fesanjun
:
A stew made of chicken, walnut, and pomegranate.

Forqan:
One of the militant groups that opposed the Islamic Republic. Literally “The Distinction between Truth and Lies.”

Forugh-e Javidan:
The Eternal Radiance.

gaz
:
A kind of nougat.

ghazal
:
A poetic form with a specific meter and a recurring rhyme.

hajj or hajji:
A title bestowed upon one who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca during the hajj. Also a title of respect for elderly individuals or persons of stature who are politely presumed to have made the pilgrimage.

Halabiyabad:
Slum neighborhoods in south Tehran.

Hamshahri
:
One who inhabits a city, a fellow citizen. The name of a newspaper founded by the popular mayor of Tehran, Gholamhussein Karabashi, who was linked to the reformist movement.

hejab
:
Both the practice of covering oneself appropriately in accordance with Islamic doctrine and the clothing used to do so.

hojjat ul-Islam
:
Literally “proof of Islam.” A middle-ranking Shi'a cleric, lower than an ayatollah.

husseinya
:
A religious gathering space where sermons are delivered or the martyrdom of Imam Hussein is described.

imam:
A descendant of, and successor to, the Prophet.

Imam-e Zaman:
The twelfth imam. He is expected to return “when the world is full of sin” to kill all the infidels.

imamzadeh
:
The tomb of someone related by blood to one of the Shi'a imams.

in sha' Allah:
God willing.

jadeh:
A medium-sized street.

Jumhuri-ye Islami
:
Islamic Republic, the name of a newspaper.

Ka'aba:
The structure housing the black rocks around which the pilgrims perambulate at Mecca.

Kakh-e Javanan:
The Youth Palace.

Kayhan
:
The World, the name of a a large circulation, syndicated newspaper in Tehran with conservative politics.

Kermanshah:
A province in western Iran.

khanum:
Lady or miss.

Khavaran:
An unofficial cemetery in Tehran, much further from the city than Behesht-e Zahra, where the munafiqin are buried.

kheirat
:
A small gift or refreshment given in honor of the dead.

Khiaban-e:
A major street or avenue.

khoda hafez
:
Good-bye. Literally “God protect you.”

Khordad:
May.

khoresht-e badamjan
:
Eggplant stew.

khoresht-e qorma sabzi
:
Green-herb stew.

Komité:
The military body in charge of enforcing Islamic decorum among the citizenry.

kucheh:
Narrow street or lane.

kuku
:
A type of casserole.

kuku-ye sabzi
:
An herb casserole.

lavash
:
Iranian flatbread.

Madar-e Fuladzere-ye Div:
A mythical armor-plated monster invoked to describe difficult people.

Mader-jan:
An affectionate form of address for an old woman, literally “mother dear.”

madresseh
:
School.

mahram
:
A close male relative such as a brother, father, husband, son, or uncle who in Islamic law is authorized to accompany a woman and see her without her chador.

Majlis:
Parliament.

Maman Bozorg:
A variation of
madar-e bozorg
, which means grandmother.

manto
:
Long Islamic overcoat.

masha-Allah
:
Well done.

masum(eh)
:
One of the blameless, (eh implies female) such as members of the extended family of the Prophet and imams.

meidan:
Square.

Mellat Iran:
People of Iran, a political party.

Mersad
:
Ambush.

mofsed
:
Corrupt, seditious, subversive.

Mordad:
August.

muhandes
:
engineer.