A Day We Will Never Forget
March 22, 2005
Iran va Jahan
Potkin Azarmehr
http://www.iranvajahan.net/cgi-bin/news.pl...5&m=03&d=22&a=6
All Iranians love their New Year, Nowrooz. Literally meaning New Day, is a celebration of the first day of the spring. It represents the end of the cold winter, and the beginning of the blossoming of the trees and when life becomes new again. But perhaps Nowrooz is a painful reminder too for those in exile and even more painful for the Iranian refugees who are still waiting to obtain their refugee status.
Refugees who have fled the Islamic Republic of Iran, not only face dire financial difficulties, but they have to cope with the psychological pressures of whether they would be sent back to Iran or not. To them Nowrooz, is a day where more than ever, they remember the loved ones they left behind. The traditional Nowrooz visits, where everyone makes an effort to visit their friends, neighbours and family members; for an Iranian refugee is instead turned into a confined space of a grimy hostel or a camp, where a knock on the door is not the welcome sound of a traditional Nowrooz visit by an acquaintance but more likely by an immigration official who either has the deportation orders or the relocation papers for them.
On top of all this, there is the lack of trust towards one another. Desperate situations make desperate people and the trust towards each other and your compatriots goes out of the window. No one is prepared to discuss his or her case with another compatriot, even if they meet each other at the canteens where they get their low quality, repetitive free meals, only a few formal greetings are exchanged.
So it is not surprising if Nowrooz for an Iranian refugee is more sorrow than joy. For a refugee, Nowrooz is a day where he contemplates on his loneliness in a foreign land amongst strangers, away from his loved ones, away from the traditions he holds so dear.
When Reza Pahlavi told me he wishes to spend Nowrooz amongst Iranian refugees, I was overjoyed with his decision. I volunteered to organize the event. I knew I had to help make such a thing possible. But at the same time, I knew it would be a daunting task to organize too.
The nearest such refugee camp was on the outskirts of London, right on the other side of where I lived. I went to see some of the refugees I knew there, but I couldn't tell anyone what my real purpose was. When I asked them about how they will be celebrating Nowrooz, their hopeless eyes stared at me with some measure of contempt. Not that they said it but I felt them say "what is there to celebrate?"
I tried to overcome their melancholy. "Nowrooz is a tradition which shows, we as Iranians still exist. We must keep it alive wherever we are, under whatever conditions we are." I said to their gazed looks.
I felt I still needed to say more. I thought perhaps they are saying to themselves, its ok for this guy who doesn't have our problems, we have nothing to celebrate. So I continued "Even the Iranian soldiers who were taken into captivity by Saddam Hossein, when defending our motherland didn't forget to celebrate Nowrooz. Even in their conditions and under the menacing looks of Saddam's henchmen who loathed Iranians, our captive soldiers improvised and kept this tradition alive." I wanted to say to them, look I know I am in a better condition than you, but as hard as it may be to imagine, there have been worse situations than yours too. So I continued, "Throughout our history we have had our forefathers who kept the tradition alive even during the massacres and genocides against our people by foreign usurpers, our forefathers were killed but Nowrooz continued, Iran continued and we must continue it today" And I went on and on until I convinced them that it is necessary to set up the Nowrooz decorations and to celebrate. So we decided on a budget and I delegated one of the residents to be in charge of the Nowrooz decorations and another one to hire a keyboard so we can have some music to dance to.
However there was another problem. There was no guarantee that the people I spoke to were going to remain in the hostel for Nowrooz. A letter from NAS is slipped under the door periodically telling them that they will be displaced and sent to a new location the day after. So there was no guarantee that all the people I talked to and those I delegated to do the tasks would be there for Nowrooz.
I believed in what Reza Pahlavi had suggested and I wanted to do a good job but I found the pressure overwhelming due to the uncertainties and the fluidity of the people's movements in the camp. The long distance from where I lived didn't help either and I couldn't tell anyone where I was going after work in the evenings.
The night before Nowrooz, I was making endless calls. I wanted to make sure that the people I had encouraged were still in high spirits and would turn up for Nowrooz. Some had other family members they could go to or simply wanted to be outdoors instead of being in their dingy camp environment. How could I say no to them? I couldn't even tell them what was happening and who was coming to see them. Some of the families were given their relocation papers in the very week leading to Nowrooz. The numbers were dwindling and I couldn't do much about it.
On Sunday morning, I set off to go to the camp. In order not think about whether the day would be a disaster or not I took a book to read with me on the train. The book was on the life of Meena, the revolutionary Afghan woman leader who served her people so much during the Taliban reign and despite all adversity managed to make a difference. Meena's courage encouraged me and took my mind off the uncertainties ahead.
My mobile phone rang a few times on the train. It was friends and relatives who wanted to know whether I would be seeing them on Nowrooz. I had to decline and the noise of the train prevented me from making an excuse like I am not well. I felt bad about disappointing them but I just couldn't say where I was going. I sent a text message to my son and sent him a happy new year greeting.
When I got to the camp, I felt the numbers were sufficient. I was also pleased with the Nowrooz decorations. The keyboard player, a young refugee from Iran's Kurdistan needed some practice though, it had been a long time since he had practiced his musical abilities after he fled Iran. But then that became a subject of friendly banter too and a way to beat the melancholy that was becoming really hard to overcome.
Finally, I got a call from Reza Pahlavi, he was a few minutes away. The refugees were finally told that Reza Pahlavi is on his way and will be spending the Nowrooz with them.
However it seemed that the message just didn't register. Disgruntles of "Yeah sure thing", "Very funny", "don't joke with us" filled the air. I had to look serious and convince them that No really! the Prince is on his way and it was not a joke. I sent someone to greet the Prince at the front door and to guide him through the long dark depressing corridors of the hostel which led to the meeting hall where we were, and asked the rest to line up next to the keyboard. I, myself stayed by the door looking down the corridor. As soon as I saw the Prince walk down the other end, I gave the signal to the keyboard player to play the Ey Iran, national anthem, and for the rest to sing the anthem. Reza Pahlavi embraced me by the door and we exchanged quick New Year greetings, he then swiftly walked straight to our makeshift "choir members", shook hands with them and kissed each person present. Perhaps this was even more startling to everyone than anything else. So far it was too much of a dream any way but for the Prince to embrace them and kiss each one of them on the cheek was simply beyond their belief. In the short time they were notified of the Prince's visit, few asked me about the protocol of meeting the Prince, to which I said "No protocol, just do as you feel as if your brother is coming to visit you and say whatever you wish to say to him."
As the Prince was turning onto the next person to kiss and greet, I could see the tear drops of joy and astonishment in the eyes of those who had already been embraced.
We sat around the Haft Sin Nowrooz table. Reza Pahlavi asked the refugees to talk about why they left Iran, what they went through, and their current situation. It took a few minutes for the refugees to overcome their shock and find the ability to talk, but the Prince did very well in making them feel at ease.
Once they got going, the Prince listened to each one and to their plight carefully. As many times as you hear these harrowing individual stories, it is still unbelievable to hear some cases. Who would have thought our people would one day be reduced to this? We, the children of Cyrus the Great, who were once the masters of the world and the people in the region looked up to us, having to go through such humiliation and such hardship.
Something I heard during the discussions for the first time was that many Iraqi or Afghan nationals were recently claiming to be Iranian refugees and the disorganized British courts were granting them asylum, yet the real Iranians were refused their refugee status! The Prince was also taken back when he heard this.
Reza Pahlavi then started a discussion on what can be done about the problems, and everyone expressed their views. After the topic of asylum and refugee was discussed, the Prince talked briefly about the future and the recent appeal for referendum, and then fielded all sorts of questions. Some of the questions were by people who were against monarchy in Iran, but Reza Pahlavi felt comfortable in answering them. He insisted that we need to struggle against the common enemy. "We need to overcome our factional party politics games and think about the bigger problem which has affected all of us."
We were already well over our agreed time for booking the room with the hostel management. I went out to ask for a further extension, while the Prince continued to field questions.
Finally the Nigerian hostel management insisted on playing the "Look I have already done you lot a favor" card. No one wanted the event to finish though. The Prince gave everyone a signed copy of his book, Winds of Change, and then there was the endless demands to have photos taken with him. Everyone wanted to capture this extraordinary moment. Individual pictures, group pictures, it did not matter, they were pictures of smiles, joy and hope. I was kicking myself for not having taken pictures of before and after the Prince's arrival. Perhaps then I could have better demonstrated what an uplifting experience this really was.
Once all the cameras finally ran out of film, I got everyone around the keyboard player again, the Prince joined us as well and we all sang the Ey Iran national anthem together. Perhaps the most emotionally charged Ey Iran anthem any of us had ever sang. Our keyboard player was no Stevie Wonder and none of us were Placido Domingos, least of all me who by this time felt I was coming down with a flu, but we sang with our hearts. It was a day none of us will ever forget and we will tell our children about it. A symbolic day where the symbol of Iran's unity, the symbol of Iran's continuity and the symbol of Iran's youth and future had all gathered in one place under one roof. We had the right to sing the Ey Iran anthem louder than ever, more passionate than ever, more heartfelt than ever, and not care about our musical abilities. At that particular time, standing with the Prince amongst us, on the occasion of Nowrooz, in a room which cried out for a new paint, with a carpet that was on its last threads, we were the best choir ever assembled in the grandest place of all.
There were Iranian refugees from all different parts of Iran that day with different dialects, religious beliefs and facial features. The earlier melancholy for ALL of THEM was replaced with hope and joy. That is the power of Reza Pahlavi and the position he holds.
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"As the Prince was turning onto the next person to kiss and greet, I could see the tear drops of joy and astonishment in the eyes of those who had already been embraced."
"There were Iranian refugees from all different parts of Iran that day with different dialects, religious beliefs and facial features. The earlier melancholy for ALL of THEM was replaced with hope and joy. That is the power of Reza Pahlavi and the position he holds."