|
A Chicken for my Cousin
We arrived at the hotel around 7pm and ate a hearty dinner on the patio. The hotel owner introduced himself and invited us to a private meeting in his office. Mr. Urvani was a Kurdish man with an attitude. He claimed his property was seized by Iraq during the late war, and he lost everything. He boasted about his extensive connections and complained bitterly for thirty minutes about Saddam Hussein. He generously offered to finance our carpet purchases in Hamadan and ship them through his export business in Dhabi. He was obviously a big operator, but Saheed insisted we get some rest. He nudged us out the door, saying, “Khoda- Khoda,” to our hosts. That meant, “Bye- bye, I thought.” Mr. Urvani and his manager respectfully replied, “Khoda Hafez.” Saheed later cautioned about doing business with these Kurds, but offered no explanation about why.
That night, while walking near the hotel, we witnessed throngs of men marching to beating drums and chanting Islamic verse. Saheed explained that this was Muharram, a holy month for Shiite Muslims and a time of mourning for Imam Husayn. It would be the first of many such demonstrations that I witnessed over the next several days. As the week progressed, these demonstrations grew more frantic. The intensity was unsettling for me.
For three days, we spent endless hours in the Hamadan bazaar. We also drove to several nearby villages, visited a weaver with four looms and a warehouse with stacks of thick dense rugs piled ten feet high. For entertainment, we toured the Ali Sadr caves, attended a Haji dinner and visited a park and waterfall at the edge of town.
As a regional carpet distribution center for the Hamadan area, there were about fifty carpet shops in the bazaar. I looked at hundreds of carpets. Most were thick, crude and heavy. No wonder they called them “The Iron Rugs of Hamadan.” Saheed boasted that they were made to last for many generations on the floor. At a weaver’s house, I got real comfortable on one of these rugs as I lounged during afternoon tea. The man of the house offered to sell a spare rug he claimed was about 25 years old. It was spread out in a room near the back door. He shooed the chickens out and kicked away their droppings as he pointed to various features on the rug. It was about 8x10 feet, dominant dark red with a multi colored floral center medallion, and animal shapes around the edges. He wanted way too much for it. I said, “Sorry, no room.” I wondered if the chicken crap added to the value.
|
April 9 was a cold, clear sunny day and began with loudspeakers blaring the call to prayers. The snow-covered mountains were visible from the public square near the bazaar. It was a great day for buying as long as you conducted business before noon and after three. The mid-day was reserved for prayer and rest. Shop owners adhered to this rule religiously. While I waited, I had tea with a trade school teacher who spoke excellent English. He explained the dress and mannerisms of several ethnic men who paraded through the halls with carpets slung over their shoulders. At four pm, I bought two small matching ovals for $60 and paid my buyer an additional $10 for brokering the deal. Luckily, George offered me space in his luggage.
A trip to the Ali Sadr cave was a welcome break from carpet hunting. This cave was said to be the only one in the world with a flowing river and lake in it. At one point, the ceiling was sixty feet high. Although our driver, Reza, speculated that the cave was a qanat, the local guide insisted it was merely a feature formed by erosion.
That evening, a dealer from the bazaar invited us to a Haji dinner at our hotel. Saheed accepted on our behalf and explained to be Haji is a high honor in Iran. He said that Haji are very generous men and celebrate induction into this elite group with a party for friends and guests. This was rare opportunity for an infidel from Wisconsin. Saheed also explained that a man must make a pilgrimage to Mecca to become Haji and that our host just returned from Mecca. When we were introduced, he was friendly and humble. The celebration included Islamic prayer, singing and several brief speeches. I sat with two English speaking medical students and the Hamadan postmaster. The medical students wanted to move to the U.S., but they needed sponsors who would provide housing. While women attended this celebration too, a heavy curtain separated us from them. What a strange feeling to hear women conversing and laughing, but not actually see them.
|
At breakfast, our driver told me that he promised cosmetics to the three check-in girls at hotel desk. Saheed also advised that U.S. import restrictions were relaxed the day before, so we could buy more carpets. Unfortunately I was almost out of money. When my buyer found two rare matching portrait carpets, I was tempted to take a loan from Mr. Shurvani. The pair was too expensive, but what about just one? It was an 18”x 24” picture of a weaver with long flowing auburn hair that reminded me of my wife. After haggling, I bought the better of the two for $75.
At a park and waterfall outside town, we met two uniformed army recruits who were anxious to talk to us. They were high-spirited and called several of their colleagues to join the discussion. A small, but friendly Iranian Army quickly surrounded us. One soldier explained that they were all Kurds and home on leave. Another complained how the last Shah and British archeologists stole five truckloads of artifacts from ruins and tombs in their hometown, Kermanshaw. He told us how a local group of businessmen was trying to get them back. I was tempted to donate to his cause, but I gave him a pack of Marlboros instead. I offered another soldier a fishing lure, but he declined. Who needs a lure when you have an automatic weapon?
On our last day in Hamadan, I purchased a ceramic chicken for my cousin Bruce. His domestic collection needed an Iranian companion. When I checked out of the hotel, I presented the ladies at the desk with lipsticks and small bottles of moisturizing cream. They were grateful and in turn gave me a pen, calendar and note pad. The business manager scolded them after they posed with us for pictures.
|
|
