I Hear You Knocking...

...but you can't come in. 

Knock, knock

Who's there?

Farsi

Farsi, who?

Farsi, you can't speak Farsi.

Awhile back one morning, while my husband was away at his school, there was a knock on the door. I did what I’ve always done in America, which is tell my kids to be quiet so we can pretend not to be home in hopes that the person(s) will go away. But the knocking kept on, so we got a bit tense. The knocking became louder, and we heard voices as well. 

That’s when we got nervous. I knew I was not going to open that door, but if it had been in America, I would at least been able to say “Hello, who is it? What do you want?” But of course, I didn’t know how to say that in Farsi. So I tiptoed towards it to look out the peephole. I saw two men casually standing and talking to each other. There were a few more knocks while I called my husband to ask him what to do. He told me to ignore it and not say anything, that maybe it was the manager’s son who had told him he’d stop by later that evening. There were another few knocks, but then the men had left. 

I began to look up Farsi words and write them down on paper so I’d have something to say (even though pronouncing it wrong) if and when another knock came.

I knew how to say Hello (Salam)

I knew how to say I don’t speak Farsi (Nah Farsi)

I looked up the words, husband (Hamsar) and home (Khane) so I could say No husband home in Farsi.

And my husband had told me how to say American (America-ee).

I also looked up What’s Your Name (Esm e Shoma Chist)?

And Where are You From? (Shoma Ahleh Koja Hastid)

Sure enough, a few hours later, there was another set of loud knocks. 

I looked out the peep hole and it was a man, though I couldn't tell if it was one of the same men as before. So through the door, I began to say something:

"Salam," I said.

"Salam," he said.

"Na Farsi"

"Something something something Farsi"?

"Uh, uh…Khane uh…Jonathan Ali, Jonathan Ali (my husband’s name)"

"Something something something"

"Uh, uh, Americanee Americanee (I incorrectly added the N sound there)"

"Nahh something something"….

He left.

Success.

I told my husband on text about it. He said that his teacher said that it was most likely census takers. After that, my husband came home and spoke with the manager who said it was probably just people at the wrong door. Nevertheless, we taped a sign on the front door that has my husband’s name and phone number on it in case someone else arrives knocking on our door again.

So far, it’s been fine with no more persistent knocks.

I realized that some folks just press the wrong bell button at the gate trying to get into the complex. I also realized we have this nifty video monitor that turns on when someone rings our bell so we can see who it is.

The other day another bell rang while my husband was out. Looking at the video monitor, it seemed to be an official man such as a police officer. I waited to see if he would somehow get in through the gate and then come up to knock on our door. After a couple of bells, he left the visual on the video and we waited. Minutes passed and there was no knock, so either he was here for someone else or saw the sign on our door and left.

Then I got to thinking about what we would do if that actually was a  police officer who needed to contact us with GOD FORBID, bad news about my husband being in accident or what not. So I told my husband to give my cell phone number to a couple of his friends who speak both Farsi and English and keep the name of those friends in his wallet as Emergency contacts.

Not knowing the language is a vulnerable position to be in. I know I need to try to learn at least some important phrases.

So I tried to memorize the Farsi alphabet. I kid you not when I say (and already said here), remembering things like this, letters, numbers, new words is harder for me than it is for others. I’m not sure why though! Not only that but I have a huge anxiety about taking a class to learn it, having to perform in front of teachers or classmates.  My husband is in his umpteenth week of intense 5 hour a day Farsi classes. When he tells me about his tests both written and oral, I get so uncomfortable thinking about it. But it does not bother him one teeny bit (other than hoping he gets 100% correct, which he mostly does, mashaaAllah).

Let’s hope I can learn eventually because then living here will be a lot easier and pleasant. Right now, my youngest daughter is afraid to go out for a walk with me for fear that I just don’t know what to say to others. This makes me sad of course, so let’s see if I can increase her confidence in me. I hope, I pray.

Until then, I'll stick to my favorite phrase Na, Farsi. Oh, and by the way, my kids have learned a Farsi sentence: Een Cheez Ajeebe, which means, "This thing is strange." So, of course, they can say that about a lot of things here. Also, this sentence is very similar to the same words used in Urdu, which is the language of my Pakistani parents. I can speak and understand several words and sentences in Urdu, so that's something, ain't it?

Silver Linings

Use the term silver lining when you want to emphasize the hopeful side of a situation that might seem gloomy on the surface. The common expression "every cloud has a silver lining" means that even the worst events or situations have some positive aspect.

We slept late into the afternoon of our first day here. Then the sun began to set a few hours later, so it was night again. My kids were in a haze, half asleep, half awake, sad, happy, crying, laughing. There wasn't really any other food here other than the uncooked pasta I had sent ahead with my husband when he first left for Iran (the 3 months before). The silver lining was we'd brought some candy, ramen noodles, and instant macaroni packs with us from America, so we cracked those open once here and zapped them in the microwave.

By the second day, our sleeping was still haywire, but we made sure to get up during daylight. I wanted to get out of our place so we drove to the store (in the car my husband just bought from a friend). We weren't accustomed to sitting in a 4 door sedan since we've had a roomy Honda mini-van for the past 11 years in America. Plus the seatbelt buckles in the backseat were buried inside the seats and un-getable! Driving in the backseat without seat belts seems to be a thing here, grrrr.

There's not much to see in our neighborhood of Pardisan (the city next to Qom). Dirt. Buildings. Random people walking here or there. Not much greenery at all. The silver lining is that we are near the holy city of Qom. I look forward to being able to spend time there soon.

We got to the store. It was full of a variety of different things from decorative items, kids' toys, and then a grocery section. I took several photos discreetly (I feel like people might find it suspicious for me to be taking them).

The workers there were not really friendly, but they were also not rude. I tried smiling at a female clerk but she just sort of stared back. My husband mentioned that people here would indeed be able to tell we were foreign to Iran like tourists or something.

I kept trying to compare prices of the items but obviously couldn't because the prices were in Farsi. Most of the items were familiar looking so we grabbed a few things we could use in the next few days. The silver lining was that we didn't have to worry about the ingredients--it was all halal of course! We really got a kick out of this Spongebob ketchup!

We went home after a short while. It was nice to get out but also a relief to be back in our own place. After our tumultuous first night here, being safe and sound in a peaceful and private space felt good.

However, slowly but surely the good time didn't last long as my eldest daughter started losing her cool at not having internet access. My husband had hoped his friend would have had time to set it up while we were still in Texas, but that didn't happen. It was again one of those "I know this guy who knows this guy" who's going to set it up but he hasn't called and/or texted yet, so we're in the dark moments.

Soon I lost my cool too. I needed internet to connect to others! And though we had a television, every show was in Farsi! I was in another world, on another planet. The tension was high, the misery growing.

At some point, we got the internet working. It felt un-real, too good to be true. We started feeling normal again.

I noticed there is an English speaking channel here called PRESS TV (silver lining alert!). It's mostly depressing world news but also has interesting bits and pieces about Iranian life. It was so comforting to just hear English being spoken, to be able to understand. Soon I noticed there were several familiar movies and shows that are broadcasted here in Farsi, e.g. Sense and Sensibility!

The celebration about internet was dampened slightly when we learned that the net is not unlimited with a set price. It's cost is based on amount of time spent using it. And with 5 people here, 4 of whom that are home 24/7 and rely on the net a lot of activities--the costs will add up quickly so inshaaAllah we can manage. We're trying to limit internet use, but it does take getting used to. So many times I've wanted to look up some information on the net, but had to stop myself. The good thing about this is that I spend a lot less time reading comments from online articles!  That's a silver lining for sure.

By the way, I know I'm using the term silver lining a bit incorrectly in some of these examples, haha!

Alhamdulillah
InshaaAllah
Salam

How Do You Say?

Often I call one of my children over to me, but I end up going through all their names before I get to the right one. I also say things like, "Put it on the chair," when I mean to say, "Put it on the table." Some folks call this "Mommy brain," but others may say it's indicative of a short-circuit in the brain. Either way, it is what it is.

And why is it that I can remember exactly what my husband said to me years ago in a random conversation, but I cannot remember how to say "How are you?" in Farsi/Persian, the language of Iran. Why is it that I can only utter a few phrases in my parents' language of Urdu? I asked my linguistic teacher in college why it was that I had such a hard time with my "Mother Tongue," after all, isn't my parents' language naturally "in my blood"? He laughed and said, there's no such thing as Mother Tongue! Language is a linguist construct, not a matter of blood flowing through your veins.

I studied Latin in college and passed well enough with a B, but still had a difficult time tutoring others in Latin when they asked me for some 'tips and tricks' to memorize the words. Still, my mastery of the English language is really great. I can write and read and interpret it just fine. So what's the deal? Am I just lazy and stupid and incompetent when it comes to learning other languages? I don't know for sure, but all my life, plenty of people, friends and family included enjoyed joking about how it's not just one, but all, of those reasons. As did those humble braggers whose children are bi-lingual.

I know I can depend on my husband to navigate the perils of a new language when I get to Iran. He's already taking in depth Farsi courses. However, I have no ambition to learn Farsi except for a few helpful phrases.

I'm nervous and mentally preparing myself for those questions that people will ask me: "Did you learn Farsi yet? Why not? You should. You've lived there for that long and still can't speak it? HaHa!"

And since my husband will learn Farsi, do you think he'll be able to teach our children? I would like that. I'd hope so. Is it that easy? Well, ask him instead of me. And ask him in Farsi while you're at it.

Here's your first lesson: