Chapter FOUR

Part 1  -  Part 2  -  Part 3  -  Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

The Characters of Chaucer's Pilgrims are the Characters that compose all Ages & Nations; as one Age falls another rises, different to Mortal Sight, but to Immortals only the same; for we see the same Characters repeated again & again, in Animals, in Vegetables, in Minerals & in Men. Nothing new occurs in Identical Existence: Accident ever varies, Substance can never suffer change nor decay.

(Blake, Draft of Prospectus for the Engraving of Chaucer's Canterbury Pilgrims, 1809.)

When I was about five years of age my parents went to Mashhad on a pilgrimage and left me with Humai and Izzat, who stayed in my parents' house to look after my sister Batul and myself. I rather resented my parents going to Mashhad and leaving me behind - so I kept misbehaving, refusing to eat and making life difficult for Humai and Izzat. However, they knew me and understood me very well and were patient and kind. I remember one evening I fell asleep and woke up to find that everybody had almost finished their dinner. They were having abgusht (meat stew with potatoes and chickpeas), and I became upset. Izzat asked me to join them as my dinner had been kept for me. "I do not want to eat," I said. "You have eaten the meat and now you are offering me the bones." Much to my annoyance, my comment made Izzat laugh. I did eventually eat, but Izzat kept repeating my words for years afterwards. Although he kept teasing me, I did not mind this because pe was always good-humoured. I preferred to be teased by Izzat than by my playmates.
After four years or so my parents planned to return to Mashhad on yet another pilgrimage. Many relatives and friends gathered at the coach station to see everyone off and there was quite a crowd round the coach. Some had brought boxes of sweets or cakes, and others had melon, water-melon, grapes or nuts for the passengers. Some of the passengers were kissing their children goodbye and others were upset at leaving their relatives behind. In this chaotic situation I asked Haji Ali, my father's partner, to let me go with my parents. He did what I asked and lifted me up and pushed me through the open window of the coach into the seat where my parents were. I sat next to the window by my mother and kept quiet in case my father objected to my going with them. I was delighted and relieved to see that my grandmother was also in the coach with my parents, because I knew that she would look after me and protect me if I was naughty.
The coach departed about an hour before sunset and the tops of the buildings and streets were red with the setting sun. The coach passed through the main streets and left Tabriz as I eagerly gazed at the streets and buildings through the window. It was wonderful. Walls, trees and people seemed to be rushing past the coach. We stopped at the city gate and the driver picked up a villager who had a sheep standing in front of him and some chickens in his arms. The sheep was deposited in the middle aisle and the villager, with his chickens, sat at the back of the coach. The chickens were noisy, protesting against all being tied together. The sheep kept quiet, until the villager got off at a village called Bustan-Abad. Before arriving at Bustan-Abad, the coach crawled along a high mountainous road and through a mountain pass (called Shibly) and the frightened passengers offered the prayer "Allah Akbad' ("Allah is Great") in unison.
Bustan-Abad is not an ordinary village, butis the central gathering place for the surrounding villages - for two reasons. It lies on the main road between Tabriz and other major cities or towns like Sarab and Ardabil, and it also has hot springs. Bathing in this water js considered to improve one's health. There is a bath-house there on the top of a hill, which contains separate rooms, each with a small pool about two metres wide and two and a half to three metres long. The water circulates through the pool, so there is always clean water. Two or three people can use each room at a time. I have been several times to this place and it is very relaxing and refreshing.
Our coach did not stop at Bustan-Abad for long. The passengers stayed in the coach - but I managed to go to the toilet - just a hole in the ground surrounded with dirt. Our next stop was the city of Miyaneh, about 150 kilometres from Tabriz. It was late at night when we arrived. The shops and restaurants were still open and the city was lit by electric lights, but some of the shops and the tea-house where we had tea and food - my mother brought our food with her - were lit by oil lamps. We ate kuku, made with eggs, potatoes, butter and saffron, which she always made for journeys. We also had vegetables, from our garden, and a cheese similar to feta, together with homemade lavash bread. It was a delicious supper. A large, awesome picture of Reza Shah was hanging on the door and two smaller ones were hanging on the walls. It was the first time I had been in a tea-house on the road and I was fascinated to see how the food and tea was served, and how the local peasants sat on a platform in one corner of the tea-house busy chatting and slurping their tea. In another corner women, men and children were sitting round a table-cloth having their meal. My parents disappeared to pray in a back room of the tea-house while I sat next to my grandmother. I was glad to have this first opportunity to talk to my grandmother since leaving Tabriz. "I am glad you came with us," she said, and her words reassured me. .
I did not sleep during the night, and watched the headlights of the coaches and cars moving through the twisting roads up and down the mountains. They flashed their lights while approaching each other as a sign either of greeting or of warning. I had no wish to be a driver on those roads. They were narrow and the passengers, especially the children, constantly had to be reminded to keep their arms and heads inside the coach; careless people often lost an arm or even a head when vehicles passed each other.
Before we arrived in Zanjan city the coach broke down on a mountain
road called Qaflankuh. The driver and conductor spent a few hours trying to repair the coach, but they could not do anything. The driver was most upset, almost bursting into tears or perhaps even actually crying as he lay his head on the steering wheel and covered either side of his face with his arms. He had no money for repairs. My father and an Afghan man offered their help. The Afghan gentleman said, "We will pay all your expenses for the repairs - do not worry." My father, agreeing with the Afghan also gave some money. The driver, who had looked exhausted and desperate before, raised his head quickly and did not know what to say - but his eyes became bright and a smile appeared on his face. My father gave the money that he had collected from the Afghan, and two other people on the coach, to the driver. The driver took the money and said, "Thank you, you have saved my soul. I did not have any money to buy spare parts." Then he and his assistant went to Zanjan and returned after about six hours with the necessary parts. They set to work on the coach, but it took hours before we resumed our journey.
It was late at night when we arrived in Zanjan. It was a large pleasant city with well-organised restaurants and attractive bazaars. The shops in the bazaars were shut, but the bazaars were well lit and I could see long passages with their nicely curved and dome-like ceilings and roofs. We had chilD-kebab. I was so hungry and tired that I could have wished nothing better than to sit and eat while watching the cornings and goings of the different passengers. In Zanjan they spoke Azerbaijani, and as I understood the people I felt at home. I would have liked to see the famous handicrafts and metalwork in the bazaar and perhaps spend a few more hours in the city, but the coach was due to leave in an hour or so.
In the restaurant my father, the Afghan and the driver were sitting at a table and chatting. When my father saw me returning from my walk round the place he invited me to sit down and have a cup of tea before we got back on the coach. While I was drinking my tea 1 heard the driver saying, "Being a coach or a taxi driver in this country is donkey work. You work day and night but at the end you are still in debt to a foreign company or Iranian businessmen. After 15 years working day and night 1 have not yet paid off the money for this coach, which will be old and useless by the time my debt is paid. You see we live an insecure life - our roads are bad and we have to change our tyres and suspension frequently - in fact we are constant consumers for the foreign factories. This morning if you had not helped me 1 could not possibly have afforded to replace an irreparable part. 1 thank you for your help - but this does not solve the problem. 1 do not expect my passengers to pay for my spare parts each time that 1 break down. Believe me 1 hardly spend any money on myself. 1 spend all my earnings on my wife and five children, and on my mother who lives with us. 1 love my family
the children are the source of my enjoyment, but some people ridicule me for having five daughters. When 1 drive at night through these narrow and twisted roads, especially in winter when it is more dangerous, the only thing which keeps me awake and vigilant is the vision of my wife, mother and children and the fact that I long to see them the following day or a couple of days later." At this point the driver looked at his watch, and facing my father and the Afghan man said, "I have had a tiring day, we had better stop overnight in Zanjan." Then he added, "I must say that in winter when the roads are blocked by snow we have to spend hours or days in this or other stopping places until the roads are open."
Some passengers slept in the coach and some, together with the driver, found accommodation in rooms behind the tea-house. My parents and grandmother preferred to have rooms though 1 would have liked to stay up in the tea-house and watch the passengers.
The following morning we were all in the coach. There was a new passenger - a dervish - who sat next to the driver and talked all the way until we arrived at Qazvin, a city 100 kilometres from Tehran. Usually these dervishes are welcomed by the drivers, who like someone to sit next to them and keep them awake or pass the time with their conversation or stories. Sometimes such companions sing songs, or the companion might be the driver's wife. But this cannot happen now under the ayatollahs. Women are not even allowed to sit next to a man in a city bus, let alone in a coach travelling from Tabriz to Tehran. This is meant to protect the dignity of women. Women have such an attraction that every man must guard himself from committing sin by indulging in illegal and unlawful thoughts of love, _he ayatollahs argue. Rape by marriage (often girls marry against their will) IS allowed, but to sit next to a woman in a bus is regarded unlawful and sinful!
The dervish kept talking and telling jokes and stories, which 1 could hear clearly two seats behind. The driver was happy and laughed at the dervish's jokes and stories and told him how his relatives and neighbours laughed at his having five daughters. The dervish then told him the following Azerbaijani folktale:

The Father of Seven Daughters and the Father of Seven Sons
Once upon a time there were two brothers. One had seven daughters and the other had seven sons. The father of seven boys, whenever he saw his brother, would ridicule him and say, "Hello, Father of seven bitches". The father of seven daughters used to feel ashamed, and hung his head and walked to his home.
One day the eldest daughter realised that her father was very depressed and upset - he was about to burst into tears. "What has happened, Father?" she asked. Her father replied, "Whenever your uncle sees me he addresses me as 'Father of seven bitches' and I am unable to answer him back."
The daughter said, "Father, don't worry. Tomorrow, when you see our uncle, answer, 'Hello, Father of seven dogs. One son from you and one daughter from me - let us send them on a journey and see which one can earn a better living.'"
The father of seven daughters became happy, and they had their dinner and slept. The following day the two brothers again saw each other. The father of seven sons said, "Hello, Father of seven bitches". The other brother lifted his head up and said, "Hello, Father of seven dogs. One son from you and one daughter from me - let us send them on a journey and find out which one can earn their bread better."
The following day each brother, according to his means, provided subsistence for the jo_rney. The boy and girl got on their horses and went out of the city. They continued travelling until they arrived at a fork in the road, where there was a stone on which was written that he who took one turning can return, but he who travels on the other road cannot return, and he who has gone never returned. The boy said, "I shall go the way from which no-one can return." The girl answered, "No. I shall take this road, you had better take the road from which there is a possibility of returning." Her cousin accepted. They agreed to meet each other at the same spot after one year, and whoever arrived first should wait for the other. Then they each followed their own road.
The girl continued until she arrived at a city. She sold her horse and bought a man's suit and put it on. She went to a blacksmith's and became an apprentice. A few days passed and the blacksmith noticed that the appearance of his apprentice was not like that of a boy. But he did not say anything. Again a few days passed and the blacksmith was convinced that his apprentice was a girl. Then he could not keep silent and went and told the news to his mother:

"Her arms suit a bracelet;
Her neck suits a necklace;
Her fingers suit a ring;
Mother! my apprentice is a girl!"
His mother said, "Son, what are you talking about? Go and get on with your work and stop talking about this. How can a girl work for a blacksmith?" Finally his mother said, "Now if you insist, I shall teach you a way to find out the truth. When you return from work bring some roses with you. At night when we want to sleep, I will secretly put the roses under the apprentice's mattress. If he is a boy, boys are heavy and the roses will flatten under the mattress and will stick to the floor; if she is a girl then the roses will not be spoiled." The blacksmith accepted his mother's suggestion.
The blacksmith and his mother had a hunting dog in their house who was listening and had heard the conversation of the blacksmith and his mother. He went and informed the apprentice that Usta Halim Khan, the blacksmith, and his mother had a plan for her. The girl asked the dog what she should do. The dog said, "The solution is easy. At night turn so much this side and that side on your mattress that all the flowers will be flattened and stick to the floor." The girl agreed.
Night arrived. They had their supper and at bedtime Halim Khan's mother secretly put all the flowers under the girl's mattress. The girl, pretending not to know anything about it, went to bed. But during the night she turned this side and that side and all the flowers were spoiled. She got up early in the morning and went to sweep and swill the shop floor. Halim Khan's mother lifted the mattress and saw that all the flowers were spoiled. She told her son, "Did I not tell you this? Now give up thinking of this and get on working. These kinds of words are not good."
Again some time passed. The blacksmith all the time was watching his apprentice and again saw that the behaviour of his apprentice was like that of a girl. Finally he could not refrain from speaking to his mother about this once more and, as before, when he came home from work he said to his mother:

"Her arms suit a bracelet;
Her neck suits a necklace;
Her fingers suit a ring.
Mother! my apprentice is a girl, a girl. . ."

The mother lost her temper and said, "Son, give up these stories and don't talk behind people's backs." But Halim Khan did not give up. He said, "Believe me, my apprentice is a girl. I am not inventing stories about her."
Finally his mother said, "Since you insist I shall suggest another way to find the truth. Take the apprentice first to the mountain of ornaments for girls and afterwards take him to the mountain of swords. If your apprentice chooses the ornaments then you should know she is a girl but if your apprentice chooses the mountain of swords then he is a boy.
The dog again informed the apprentice about the conversation between the blacksmith and his mother. "What should I do in your opinion?" she asked the dog. The dog said, "Don't worry. When you arrive at the mountain of ornaments pretend that you are not interested in them and do not touch the ornaments. But when you arrive at the mountain of swords show excitement and take a few of them and put them on your waist while saying how nice they are."
The following evening Halim Khan said, "I am tired. Let us close the shop and go for a walk." First of all they went to the mountain of ornaments. Halim Khan went towards the ornaments and filled his hands and brought them to show to the girl. The girl said, "Usta, these are only good for little children, throw them away." Halim Khan threw the ornaments away. Then they went to the mountain of swords. The apprentice kept admiring the swords and looked excited at seeing them. She was taking the swords one by one and trying each with enthusiasm. She tried two or three of them on her waist and said, "Every young man needs these kind of things."
Then they left the place and returned home. Halim Khan's mother told her son, "Did I not tell you so; you had better give up all these nonsensical thoughts and pay attention to your work."
Some time passed. Halim Khan believed more than ever before that his apprentice was a girl and was wearing boy's clothes. Once again he could not restrain himself and spoke the same words to his mother. His mother said, "Boy, you yourself investigated and saw that it was not a girl. What else do you want? I'll show another way that might make you sure for ever. At noon tell your apprentice that it is too hot to work and that it is better to go swimming."
The dog again reported this to the girl. The girl asked, "Now what should I do?" The dog said, "It is not difficult to solve the problem. You let Halim Khan go into the water first. Then I will jump into the water and make the water muddy and also splash the face and head of Usta Halim Khan. You immediately take off your clothes and go into the water and come out soon afterwards and put on your clothes."
Noon came. Halim Khan said, "It is very hot today. Let us go swimming." The girl said nothing and got up and they went to a pool. First Halim Khan jumped into the water. The dog followed him and started splashing and throwing water on Halim Khan's head and face. Halim Khan suddenly realised that the girl had come out of the water and put her clothes back on and was waiting for him. He said, "Boy, why did you come out so quickly?" The girl replied, "I usually feel cold soon and cannot stay in the water long." In the evening they returned home.
Halim Khan's mother asked. "Ha, Boy! What happened?" Her son answered, "We swam but I did not learn much." His mother said, "I repeatedly tell you that your ideas are foolish. Now it is better to concentrate on your work.. ."
Some time passed. One day, early in the morning the girl had opened, swept and swilled out the shop and was waiting for Halim Khan when she suddenly remembered that a year had passed and she had to return to the road junction and then go to her father. So she got up, shut the shop and wrote on the door:

"I came a girl and returned a girl, Halim Khan;
I came honest and returned honest, Halim Khan."

Then she left and eventually reached the junction. She had all her wages with her. Her cousin had not yet returned. She waited the whole day. The following day she decided to go and look for him.
She walked and walked until she arrived at a city and asked here and there about her cousin. She was told, "The boy that you describe must certainly be the beggar who sleeps in the ashes of such and such a bathhouse." The girl went and found her cousin and saw that he had buried himself in the ashes up to his neck. He had sold everything and spent all his money. He was a beggar. The girl went and bought clothes and a horse for her cousin and said to him, "Let us go back to our own city".
Now we leave the cousins here and go to Halim Khan and his mother. Halim Khan came to his shop and found it shut, with these words written on the door:

"I came a girl and returned a girl, Halim Khan; I came honest and returned honest, Halim Khan."

Halim Khan stood rooted to the spot. Then he became very upset and went to his mother and said, "Mother, did I not tell you the apprentice was a girl? Now she has left and gone away."
Halim Khan bought some haberdashery goods, and started to search for the girl disguised as a pedlar.
The cousins, meanwhile, arrived at their own city, and each went to their parents. The girl gave her wages to her father and said, "Father, get up and go and get my horse back from my cousin." Her father went and said, "My daughter is asking her cousin to return her horse." The father and mother of the boy looked at each other but said nothing. The father of seven boys went and brought the horse. The following day the girl said, "Father, could you go and get my clothes from my cousin." The father went and said, "My daughter says that her cousin ought to return her clothes." The father and mother looked at each other's face and said nothing. The boy took off the clothes and gave them to his uncle, hanging his head in shame.
Meanwhile, Halim Khan travelled far and wide until he reached the city. He wandered through alleys calling out and selling his wares, in the hope that the girl would hear and recognise his voice. She did hear his voice, went and opened the gate and recognised Halim Khan. She invited him to her house and introduced him to her father. Halim Khan said, "I have travelled all this way for your sake. I wish to marry you."
The father and his daughter both agreed to the proposal and the wedding was held. The following day Halim Khan and his wife returned to his mother together.

This Azerbaijani story might have been told hundreds of years ago, but still prejudice against the female child is seen all over the world in varying degrees. I am reminded of the comment of one of our neighbours in Edinburgh when our third daughter was born in 1969. To her question, "What is your baby?" I answered, "A baby girl." "What a shame, another daughter!" she commented. I was surprised at this response and felt most upset by it.
When we arrived at Qazvin it was late afternoon, but the restaurants were still serving meals and tea. I was more eager to go to the bazaar and discover what the shops sold. The first thing I noticed was that not everyone spoke Azerbaijani, though some shopkeepers could speak Azerbaijani mixed with Persian. My father tried to make the shopkeepers understand with a mixture of Azerbaijani and some Persian words and phrases that he had learned during his previous journeys to Tehran and Mashhad. His conversation and bargaining with the shopkeepers in Tehran and Mashhad was most amusing and delightful to listen to. He used all the words, including Arabic ones, that he knew. This made even my mother laugh, who was very careful not to hurt people's feelings and especially those of her husband, and even when we were back home she kept teasing my father about how he had tried to speak in Farsi. My father would smile and say, "After all, Farsi is not my mother tongue and, besides, I did not have the chance to go to school and learn it when I was a child. I wish I knew how to write letters, at least in Azerbaijani." (Reading and writing in the Azerbaijani language, both in schools and outside in newspapers, was forbidden under Reza Shah's rule and that of his son, Muhammad Reza Shah; and still, under the ayatollahs, it is almost a forbidden language in schools and the mass media. Azerbaijani is spoken in Iran by more than ten million people. There are other minority languages such as Kurdish, Baluchi, Arabic, Luri and others, which have been treated in the same way.)
The food in the restaurants was good. Since I was very hungry the rice and kebab in Qazvin seemed especially delicious. There was another dish, which was served in Miyaneh and Zanjan as well, which I had not tasted in those cities. It was made of cube-shaped tender lamb with split peas and chips. The chips were also shaped like cubes. This dish was really delicious. My mother and grandmother also appreciated the food. My father tried to please us the most and did not seem to be attending to himself as much. He kept moving round - buying, serving tea or food or anxiously directing my mother and grandmother to the toilets and praying room. At home my mother was in charge of providing food and tea, but on this journey, and whenever we were out of the house, my father took on this role. He seemed very busy and obliging, and I remember him being at his best on this journey. He used his sense of humour and laughed much more - becoming one of us and sharing everything. Eating, drinking, chatting and laughing together is a social bond in Iran, and indeed in the East as a whole, and I took great delight in it. I disliked eating and drinking alone - and still do.
In Qazvin, as in Tabriz and other cities, there were many bazaars, each specialising in particular skills and crafts - blacksmiths', goldsmiths', coppersmiths', those selling hats, clothes, or carpets etc. I was attracted to the hat- and shoe-makers'. There were, again as in Tabriz, many kinds of hats to be seen. Perhaps Qazvin, being on the crossroads between the Caspian Sea to the north, Kurdistan and Hamadan to the west and Tehran to the south, had different types of customer with varying tastes in hats and shoes. There was an abundance of fruit also, as in Tabriz and Zanjan. Qazvin, however, did not have the beauty and attraction of Zanjan, which seemed a more orderly city, with trees lining either side of the streets and flower beds in each square. Qazvin seemed to be haunted by statues of Reza Shah, especially in the big squares, which filled the places with fear and terror. I was even terrified of his photographs in restaurants and public buildings. I was warned by my father not to make remarks about the Shah.
When the passengers were finally boarding the coach again it was late afternoon and the driver was saying goodbye to his friends and fellow drivers whom he had met in the restaurant and with whom he had shared a meal and tea. Both the driver and conductor seemed happy. The coach started, but the dervish was no longer sitting next to the driver. Perhaps he had stayed in Qazvin.
When we arrived in Tehran it was after midnight. The coach passed through wide streets, lined with tall trees, which seemed to welcome our tired driver. The streets were deserted except for a few nightwatchmen and policemen who were standing at the entrances of shopping centres or bazaars. Cars are forbidden to enter the bazaars, some of which have gates.
From the coach I could only see the bazaar entrances, which were situated on the main square next to a mosque. The city of Tehran seemed to me a huge and strange place. It was my first visit to such a big city. A few days later when I visited some public places I saw an enormous post-office building in a large square. Feeling so strange in the place reminded me of the time when Nawruz-Ali came with his donkey from his village to my grandfather's house, and my grandfather sent him to take a letter to the post-office, which Nawruz-Ali had never seen before.
The house where we stayed in Tehran belonged to Ismail-Zadeh and his wife, who were relatives of my grandmother. They had two bedrooms, a large sitting-room where we deposited our belongings, and a kitchen and bathroom, the toilet being situated at the end of the yard. The yard was large enough to play in and had a pond in its centre, but we did not swim because the weather was not suitable. I did not know how to communicate with the other children because I spoke no Persian, only Azerbaijani, but this did not stop me playing with them. Whilst playing in the street in front of IsmailZadeh's house I noticed that electric wires crossed over our heads like spiders' webs. We had these in Tabriz also, but in less abundance. The streets were cleaner than in Tabriz and were also asphalted.
Tehran wakes up at 5 a.m. and men in baggy trousers carry boxes of all shapes and sizes piled on their heads. They wake the sleeping people with a variety of song-like shouts to sell them their goods. Some offer milk, tea, warm bread or fruit, others newspapers. Men, women and children begin to appear from the houses or lean out of their windows to try and catch the passing traders.
Many of the shops in Tehran were very small and the goods were displayed outside. Some had mountains of melons and water-melons and others had rows of knives and forks spread out on patterned cloths. Carpetsellers piled up exquisite Persian rugs or hung them on the walls to display them to the customers. Once my father was interested in two carpets and the shopkeeper showed him dozens of them in the recesses of the shop. They bargained over the price and finally, after copious quantities of tea, they came to an agreement. The carpets were to be sent to Tabriz by the shopkeeper. I found the Tehran bazaars just as fascinating as those in Tabriz.
Entering a bazaar is akin to entering a vast honeycomb. After passing the gateway one enters a myriad of dark, winding passageways which are covered by high, vaulted ceilings. Beautiful rays of light come streaming through skylights bathing the interior darkness. Along both sides of the narrow passages are booths and small cubbyholes, barely more than niches scooped out of the stone. Each shop has a variety of goods . . .