I
love running the Spell-Checker when I am sending out
email with a lot of American/Iranian words in them. Every
other word gets underlined in red - some of the suggested
corrections are incredibly hilarious. “Aziz” (e.g.
Dear) is “As Is” (Hameen Ke Hast), Arjmand,
a beautiful Persian name, is “Armband”, and “Khomeini” is
Homey!!!
Anyway, I woke up this morning, thinking about Sadegh,
my next door neighbor in Iran, and his sister Shahnaz,
those hot summer nights in Tehran, and the scorching early
morning sun … (read on, it is not what you’re
thinking).
Like a lot of families in central Tehran and despite the
fact that we did have a huge air conditioner on top of
our house, during the summer, we slept on the rooftop (Poshte
Boom) at night.
Remember those wooden beds with Futon mattresses? We had
a few of those and had lined up right next to one another
like a huge bed in our front yard, where we all slept during
those distant and delicious summer nights (e.g. Just a
reminder that our house, similar to all other homes in
Tehran, had a good neighbor brick wall all around the yard,
front, back and the sides. So, in case you have forgotten
and you were thinking sleeping in the front yard is like
sleeping in the middle of the street, think again. The
front yard, conceptually, was similar to what we consider
the backyard in America). I just realized something I never
thought of before : neither myself nor any of my sisters
ever caught our parents !!! I wonder with this no-privacy
setup, how they ever made out, or I guess that explains
why none of us were born in March ...
Anyway,
my dad rented two of the rooms on the first floor to a
younger family after which we moved those wooden beds
to the rooftop; we would otherwise be too exposed to
these new comers! It was pretty painful to move those heavy
solid
wooden beds to the basement at the end of the summer,
and bring them out to the front yard all over again when
the
warm weather hit us, we were now forced to carry them
to the basement from what would be equivalent to a 3rd
floor!
I did like the roof a lot better regardless - There
were less mosquitoes on the roof and the view was a
lot better
too (we’ll get to the view shortly). We erected
a Pashe Band (mosquito net) every night, and took it
down every morning. As the son, it was my responsibility
to spread the hot basking beds in the evening, generally
before dinner, to air them to cool down. After dinner
we always ran up to the roof with my sisters, long before
our parents and despite their warnings, played on the
roof – Our favorite was to lie down on one bed
and pillow, and after it had absorbed our body heat and
it had warmed up and was not cool anymore, we would roll
onto another that was still nice and cool. I can just
feel the smell of the heat and the day in those beds
and
Well, Sadegh, my “Older” friend next door
worked at his dad’s Hejreh (e.g. Shop / Trade center)
in Bazaar and always took off very early in the morning
with his dad – It was the best thing to do to keep
the kids busy during the summer. My dad used to leave
early and my mom typically went down long before dawn
to get ready for the day, and to avoid that scorching,
blinding sun.
Kids always stayed up there to the last second until
the sun came out and it became painful – I don’t
think ANY parent in Tehran woke up their kids – They
didn’t need to. They would let the nature, that
burning sun, do the work for them. Can you think of ANY
kid or do you remember any who was still in bed after
7 or 8 in the morning, Ever?
The worst part of sleeping on
the rooftop was rolling up the beds. You see, to prevent
mattresses from collecting
dust and I think to prevent its color from fading too quickly,
that would make them look old, which they were, we rolled
them up daily – Some houses had a little storage-area-like
room on top of the house where they actually transferred
and stored their beds everyday. My heart goes to their
sons for all the work they had to do before they were even
fully up!
We didn’t have the storage room, so it was just
the less work, still painful rolling of the beds under
that hot bright sun – We had already stayed in bed
to the point of a nuclear meltdown and “I CAN’T
TAKE ANYMORE OF THIS LIGHT AND HEAT”. The summer
day, sorry, I mean even chronology was something like this:
8:00pm cool and nice, 9:00pm laughter running around the
roof and being silly, cool nice, 10:00pm sleep and nice,
2:00am dream and nice, 5:00am dream sleep nice, 6:00am
sleep birds a little light no sun still nice, 7:00am BLINDING
LIGHT BURN BURN FIRE FIRE FIRE BURN BURN … And yes,
it felt worse because I had to roll them before I went
down.
By the time we got downstairs,
we were wide awake and ready for another busy kids’ day.
As bad as making those “Toshak”s (e.g. beds)
were, I had a great daily incentive regardless: Shahnaz
always stayed late in her bed, in their balcony, to which
I had a great view (e.g.we both lived in our two story
buildings and typical of big cities, there was no space
between our house and theirs – Their house was
some 5-6 meters further back. I had a perfect view of
their balcony, where Shahnaz slept. All I had to do was
to walk up to the ledge, and look down! I was perfectly “Mosharraf” to
their balcony (e.g. I had view).
One morning, after I woke up, and after everyone else
had run downstairs and I was left to do the beds, I looked
down and there she was, Shahnaz lying down on the balcony
with a sheet, as always, slightly covering her and slightly
not. Hmmm … I wondered!
I don’t think I ever had a crush on her, I was just
curious. I overcame any concern I could think of at that
age, or any punishment, as a consequence of what I was
about to do – It actually didn’t take long
and I don’t think I thought any. I grabbed the big
long stick that kept our Pashe Band (e.g. Mosquito tent)
erect, and reached down to Shahnaz’s sheet, and with
the hook at the end of the stick I attempted not only removing
the sheet, but also trying to pull up her skirt like pajamas.
Well … why did I think she would not wake up or
why did I think I would get away with it?! All the odds
were against me, the time (body clock), waking up habits,
the rising noise outside, the sun which was on me already
and just about to hit her, everything indicated that
she was either up or ready to get up. But you know boys
at that age – I take it back, at any age – Men
think with their … (yes, men think with their dots!).
As soon as I pulled that damned sheet off, Shahnaz was
up – That girl was up the entire time and was waiting
for it – She grabbed that stick so lightning fast
I didn’t even get a chance to blink. Not only smaller
than her back then (e.g. I may still be), I was also
in a higher and weaker position. All she had to do was
to hang on to the stick and yank it … and there
you have it! I fell and landed on their beds, in their
balcony, and then onto her, painfully !!!
This is the perfect usage for “Gooz Malagh Shodan”.
It made a loud noise, and although I landed on the bed
and I did not break anything, it happened all too sudden
and it was still very painful. I got up as quickly as
I fell and I don’t know how I climbed that wall
back to our roof – I was up there long before her
mother got to the balcony, said something to Shahnaz,
and quickly left. Yes, I made it ok to our own roof,
safe, with one little caveat: She had the Pashe band
stick and as I was climbing the wall, she grabbed my
pajamas and pulled it off my legs!
I still can’t remember how I
climbed that wall but I remember I did it with one hand
as I was grabbing my
underwear from being pulled down along with the pants.
After a bit of begging, she threw the pants back at me
as her mother walked onto the balcony. She kept the stick
though.
Was I more embarrassed about what
had happened, or more afraid to explain to my parents
how I lost the Pashe band
stick and how it came into her possession …?
I finally decided: “Shanhanz, oon choobe Pashe band
ro mishe bedi? Lotfan?”, ( Would you give me that
Mosquito net stick, PLEASE) “Naa baba” (e.g.
No surry) she said. “Toro Khoda?!!”, (For Heaven’s
sake) I begged, and reached for the stick, from up there
but carefully making sure I wasn’t going to fall
again. “Joone Madaret bedeh”? (e.g. To your
Mother’s soul, please?) I kept asking, and “Boro
baba” (No way) and “Boro Be Binam” (get
lost) was her response.
“Shahnaz khodeto chos nakon, choobamo bedeh”,
(don’t be such an ass, give me that stick) to which
she replied “Hala ke harfe zesht zadi aslan behet
nemidam” – (now that you used fowl language,
I will never give it to you) “Bebakhseed Shahnaz – Be
khoda digeh harfe bad nemizanam, mishe choobe pashe bando
bedi?” (I am sorry – I am sorry – I swear
to god, I will not say anything bad, ever again, can I
have that stick?) – “Aval begoo to khodeto
chos kardi, na mann”, (You first have to admit that
it is you who is an ass, not I) she insisted – “Bashe”,
(OK) I nodded, “Na, bayad begee”, (Nope – You
have to say the whole thing) “Bashe, man khodamo
chos kardam”, (Ok – I was being an ass and
acted like a fart) “Begoo Ghalat karadam va Goh Khordam”,
(admit it and say that you did something bad and you eat
shit) she asked – “Bashe – Ghalat kardam
va Goh Khordi”, (I did something pretty bad and you
ate shit) I responded, after which she pretended that she
was leaving, I corrected myself “be-bakhsheed, be-bakhsheed,
ghalat kardam va Goh Khordam”. (sorry, sorry, I did)… Well,
after she hit me a few times with the stick, and a couple
of times in the head as I was trying to grab the stick
out of her hands (Zad Vasat e Maghze Saram – Right
in the middle of my head), she finally gave me back the
stick.
What a relief it was to get my precious
stick back, such a worthless, yet so precious piece of
wood !! I packed
the beds, hid that painfully paid for stick, and ran
downstairs.
Later on my sister said: “Fekr mikonam inn Shahnaz
divoonas – Emrooz sobh dasht ba choobesh ye cheezi
ro mizad, az in pa’yeen hame joonesh peyda bood.” [I
think Shahnaz was losing it today. I saw her this morning
on their balcony and she was playing with a piece of
wood and hitting our roof – From down here, I could
see her undies.!!!]
Shahnaz came to our house after
breakfast and we were playing LeyLeh (hopscotch) shortly
after, as if none of
that stuff had happened …
