In the end we both know
we cannot remain voiceless, we cannot remain dry,
we cannot be the seedless flowers,
we cannot be the unwritten songs,
we cannot be the broken pens,
we cannot be the burned brides
where God�s name is taken in vain,
where the wick of the lamp is trimmed by our fears.

For if we give in to the despair and the silence
they will have won,
and exile shall become
a burkha that we are forced to wear to cover our sorrows.

from the Song Of Exile by Sheema Kalbasi & Roger Humes.

Najeeb: A Persian Girl in America
Tannaz Eshaghian / 2002 / 25 min./video. Saturday 6th Sept, 6:30pm (English)

Shot in New York and Los Angeles, this film offers a rare glimpse into the inner circles of the tightly knit Persian Jewish community. Come along and laugh (and sigh) with Tanaz Eshaghian as she attempts to reconcile her own independence with the expectations of her parents, extended family, and the occasional matchmaker. Tanaz explores whether women of her generation can possibly be 'Najeeb'-- the demure, reserved feminine ideal deemed worthy of marriage.

  

 

Happy Day to my cousin and her beautiful-new born-baby girl.

  

 

Today�I do (not) miss you: Memories

"My spelling is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places. " - A.A. Milne

  

 

Azadeh Farahmand, a former classmate of mine, has made a short documentary about the renowned Iranian poet, Ahmad Shamlou. You can find more about A Diary of Grief here.

  

 

... I touch her cheek gently,
draw her close onto my lap,
surround her with the love
that reminds us both
of the bond which only exists
between a mother and her child.

I touch her cheek gently
and pray that all her life
the limit of her pain and misery
will be a cold picnic dinner
when the lights go out...

from The Candle Gleams by Sheema Kalbasi & Roger Humes.


Mr. Hakim�s daughter attended the same school as I did. The school was pleased and -because of Hakim�s influence and connections- took the students to places that (I assume) did not accept -regular- visitors. The Parliament was one of those places. We -the students- sat on the balcony looking at the (I don�t know how many) members and Mr. Rafsanjani as the head of the Parliament doing whatever it was he did. Even than I couldn�t understand their language. They spoke in an unfamiliar accent. They pronounced letters of each word as if it has to sound Arabic and not Persian (which is Iran's official language).

We have paid the movers, cleaners (group number one) and cleaners (group number two) and cleaners (my self and my self) and the house still needs more cleaning�but today is my sick day.

�and Dr. Mojtaba Akhtari writes from London.

  

 

The baby has a cold...

9:00 A.M. (On the phone to my husband)

Sheema: You took The Car
P: ...sorry�I�d forgotten today is Wednesday.
P: I�ll come home around 12 and take the other one.
(P doesn�t want me to drive in the old one. He thinks it�s not a safe car to drive in- the old car is just 12 years old! When I was a student in Denmark I drove an 83. I never changed/checked her oil/water and each time I took the little-gray-car to the mechanics�they always wanted to know who is this driver/princess?)

12:00 P.M.

Sheema: p you don�t need to come, the baby�s is sleep...
P: so you wont go to the playgroup?
Sheema: No, I don�t want to wake her up.

  

 

The Death Of The Heart

I felt it from the womb
To my mouth,
Around my neck,
Through my soul.

A white cotton dress
Covered my innocence,
A candle reflected the gloom
Where I spied the face of . . .

Perhaps a saviour,
Perhaps a . . .

He hung me

From the sinful tree,
Apples in both my hands,
Eve in my heart, Lilith in my soul,
Despair in my eyes,
Pulse of blood in my ears,
Kiss of desire on my lips.

He watched from beyond,
His eyes hidden in his trousers,
His smile now a leer,
His hands gripped a rosary,
My name written on every bead.

And all that remained
Was the image of my feet
As they danced with the shadows
On the platform so far below.

- Sheema Kalbasi & Roger Humes

This Thursday is mom�s night out and mothers in my baby�s playgroup have decided to go to a Japanese restaurant. The baby sleeps at eight and I want to be home when she goes to bed (and my stomach can�t stand Japanese food). I guess as much as I need to go out and do some female bonding I will not be able to do it this week.

  

 

I received an e-mail asking me if the Society should legalize the same sex marriages. I wrote yes the �American� society should legalize the same sex marriages between two (non-immediate relatives) adults (this is already legalized in Denmark). The same sex marriage is different than child molestation (unlike what Catholic priests have been insisting on).

  

 

Khomeini�s statement does damage the current government of Iran.
Last night we drove one of the (two) cars out of the garage and packed food for the little girl. Candles and related stuff were ready to use�there was a black out and many states close to NY suffered� It reminded me of the war�Lights were gone night after night and I like many others had to study under the candlelights while the bombs were dropped�and Since we have moved to the new home the Internet has been acting crazy and I haven�t been able to blog.
...This NY (Republican) representative Vito Fossella looks like my dad used to be.

  

 

Valasht was where I saw Khomaini�s grandson for the first and the last time. My mother worked 11 months out of the twelve and took one month off each year to take us (her three children) to the Valasht Lake (for ten days) and the Caspian Sea (for twenty). Dad would drive us to Valasht Lake where both Maman and dad put up the water-proofed-German tent and we camped, swam, enjoyed the beautiful sunny or foggy lake and at nights watched the fire dance and sleep away in to the deep-dark-summer-sands. It was a cool afternoon and I had finished playing-wandering in the Swiss looking mountains and was walking towards the tent�when I saw him�sitting with his back to the tent. We were told the man is Mr. Khomaini- the junior. He was handsome, well dressed and gentle looking with a vague smile on his face�but I was scared�he was the grand son of a cruel and the most powerful man in the country�