Shikasta; On Campus
by Peter Khan Zendran
“Most of the
foreign resistance groups involved in Iranian affairs
are living
in a dreamworld since they
think their actions will help them regain their palaces
which the mullahs are currently living in.”
Such was
the answer from Dr. Beeman, the speaker and organizer of
the forum I was attending at the Watson Institute
at Brown University in March 2004 to the question I had
asked regarding foreign resistance groups. Dr. Beeman
knew I was involved in resistance work and that his reply
would
not offend me since he was one of my resistance contacts.
He had also invited me to that event for that reason.
That forum was typical
of those Dr. Beeman would put on. In his presentation on
Iran he went straight for
the facts,
including information most people would
never know about if not for his organizational skills.  Among that that Shirin
Ebadi would be coming to America and that if Bush didn’t start listening
to his advisors there would be major problems for the Bush administration.
This was one reason nobody minded the occasional stuttering of any of the
speakers. When you went to one of his events you would learn something whether
you wanted
to or not. That happened there that March evening to everyone there. After
the meeting I told Dr. Beeman I had important business to meet with him about.
He told me he was busy that night but to meet him after one of his classes.
I knew which class
he meant. Not one of the classes he taught during the day
at any of the buildings on Brown’s main green, where
trouble could easily start. But the music class he taught
in the evening at a building on the fringe
of the campus. He knew I had been given some trouble by the Brown cops
and if one showed up there all I had to do was walk a few
yards and I was outside
their jurisdiction, which was especially in the maze of buildings where
that class was being taught.
He remembered the time
in September 2003 four campus cops threatened to arrest
me if I ever set foot on University property. I had gone
to Brown
to pick
up police complaint forms for a man who was wrongly arrested and had
encountered the same officer who arrested that man. I didn’t pick a brawl since I
knew how the public would react when they heard that they tried to trespass
a man who was picking up police complaint forms, though I managed to faze them
by refusing to sign the citation. He remembered how a few days later after
that incident how when I went to Brown to speak about the circumstances of
that threat one of those cops tried to follow through on that threat and several
Asian students leaving Dr. Beeman’s class surrounded me to prevent
any monkey business. They knew I was there to stand up for their rights
and by
my actions a few days before had focused attention on harassment they
had received.
He remembered in February
2004 when I received an invite to meet with
Diana Buttu at Brown one of those cops showed up to try that again
and this time
I didn’t have to wait for any of the Asian students to come to
my aid since he lost his nerve that winter night. That cop knew he
was out of his
depth trying to face me alone and any attempt to grab me at that event
would cause a Rodney King sized riot. I had been warned there would
be a set-up attempt,
but I took the risk anyway knowing that if I did not show up there
would be a panic. That evening turned out better than expected, even
though there was
little Diana could tell me that I didn’t know already the way
her face lit up when I asked her about militant solutions to Palestine,
as if Potemkin
had been put in the same room as Cleopatra, alone was worth the trip.
Dr. Beeman knew that
I would not cause a stir since it was evening and if anyone
was watching us all they would have seen from a distance
was
two tall,
large
men about the same size. Plus if I walked in the middle of one of
his
classes before he finished he’d probably ask me to sing an aria.
That night I sat outside the door until most of the class had left,
even listening to him
demonstrating Gremin’s Aria from Tschaikovsky’s Eugene
Onegin. I waited until the students were done, then opened the door
and walked in singing “Tolko
myene dozhdat ya seystne, na Pultivk knayzyem seysne, yab ny stal tu
zhit, yab ny satl kak zhit” as I entered. Dr. Beeman laughed,
saying, “I
didn’t know you sang Borodin?” “Russian was my first
language Tovarish Gremin” was my reply as we walked outside to
his car. As we walked out I was wondering if anyone who would be watching
us would notice
the resemblance between us and Brahms and Liszt as we were getting
in the car, talking about my forthcoming book and some legal trouble
someone we knew was
having his phone rang. The tune used for the ringer got my attention. “Lohengrin,
Vorspiel, Dritter Akt” was my reaction. For a moment he seemed
to freeze, then told me I was the first person who even knew what
that tune was.
Needless to say nights
at Brown were the best time for events and Dr. Beeman knew
this. That I would show up for the premiere of Mohammed
Ghaffari’s
play “Dreams and Fires” on March 13 at Brown. There were several
Iranian events going on at Brown that day, particularly free showings of films
produced by Iranian women. However, I knew those events were held at buildings
located on the main green and that trouble could be easily started there. I
also knew that if I did not show up at at least one event held at Brown there
would be a panic. The names Mohammed Ghaffari, Shahrnush Parsipour, Shirin
Neshat did not mean much to me as they did to many in Iran, my being there
that night was just my way of relaxing and getting out of the house. In fact,
the only real trouble was getting there, since the directions to where “Dreams
and Fires” was playing was so bad I and a few other people were lost.
Much to my surprise the actors were performing on stage reading directly with
their scripts in front of them, which made me wonder who really wrote the “fuck
these sons of bitches” that Humbaba was saying. After the
play when we had the discussion I was surprised that Star Trek
was brought up as a partial
inspiration and that I would have Dr. Beeman stand between me and
Mohammed Ghaffari after Mohammed had learned that Farsi was not
my first language as
we spoke in broken Farsi/English.
After events like these
I got spoiled when attending events at other colleges.
In October 2002 when I was invited to a series
of events
on Afghanistan
at Rhode Island College I often found myself totally distracted.
There was the
fact that the chairs were uncomfortable and so low I had to rub
my legs just to stand up. When Luke Powell spoke there about
his photography
work in Central
Asia I had to correct many of his statements. Some speakers stuttered
so much and had planted people in the audience that any intellectual
stimulation
was
stifled. And there was the “refreshments” that would be served.
The coffee brewed from recycled grounds was so bitter and the food so stale
that I went hungry, in contrast to events like the ones the Watson Institute
would have, where wine was occasionally served. Events at the University of
Rhode Island were just as poorly planned. One night I was invited to attend
a film screening and discussion. The directions I was given were so bad the
police were almost called since some people thought I was a suspicious character
and once I explained where I was going to some students they realized I was
lost and showed me where to go. By the time the film was over I had 15 minutes
to catch the bus back home, yet some people had the nerve to ask me to stay
for the discussion. Just what I expected from people who never had to walk
home 20 miles in their entire soft lives. Curiously enough I found this was
the norm when dealing with most college students. When I sent an invitation
to the Northeastern University Persian Club in the summer of 2004 to an event
promoting my book at the Lucy Parsons center in Boston none of the students
knew how to get to the Lucy Parsons center, despite the fact it was only a
few minutes walk from Northeastern. My visit to the NU Persian Club a few weeks
later went much better, yet I found out that despite their impressive reputation
there were few members at the time of my visit. I found the same to be true
for the MIT Iranian Studies Group, that despite their impressive reputation
they were not that active and few in number. At least I was able to have excellent
discussions with NUP and ISG members and I always had the bonus of being able
to unwind in Boston, especially in the Back Bay/Prudential area and not having
to walk around smog infested streets wreaking of sewage as in Providence, which
I would often notice even after leaving an event at Watson energized.
And there
was always the benefit of not knowing too well some of the
more notorious troublemakers who would at times show up
at some events. Like the time a street person I
knew from Thayer Street crashed a luncheon I was attending
at the Watson Institute in May. Here I was with Theodore
Panayotou, Syamak Moattari, Ramon Abaya, Debra
Roberts, Pablo Filippo, Fassil Kebebew, etc. having good discussions
while showing these people how to enjoy themselves when
the guy who has been arrested
for indecent exposure more times than anyone in Rhode Island
shows up after he sees me, thinking that the event and
the free food, drink, and champagne
was for everyone. A few minutes after he arrived and began
talking to me I made the smart choice and left, my anticipation
of scoring a few cookies and
brownies to take home dashed. Though had Brown President Ruth
Simmons been there up I would have been sorely tempted
to promise that man $50 if he were
to flash her and say “White men can jump baby.” So far that thought
has not had the chance to materialize itself a second time. Considering that
a friend of mine had gotten into legal trouble for sending Ruth Simmons e-mails
in which he addressed her as “House Slave” and who would ask if
I picked up any “jihottys” at any Middle Eastern events my action
seems to be justified.
Curious what the future will bring for future campus visits.
***
Shikasta is a
series of short stories about a man of mixed Iranian
ethnicity who is rediscovering his heritage while living
in America.
These stories are based on real experiences. Stay tuned.
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