Tom Tugend. 03/16/09. JewishJournal.com(http://www.jewishjournal.com/community/article/roger_cohens_dialogue_with_the_iran_jewish_community_20090316/)
Roger Cohen called Iran the most democratic state in the Middle East outside Israel. Photo courtesy of The New York Times
For video footage of the dialogue, click here.
There was no clean knockout when New York Times columnist Roger Cohen faced off against some 400 members of the local Iranian Jewish and Bahai communities last week, but spectators were treated to some vigorous rhetorical sparring and nimble footwork.
Last month, Cohen, a British-born Jewish journalist, returned from a reportorial visit to Iran and wrote a column for the Times headlined “What Iran’s Jews Say.”
In the city of Esfahan, in central Iran, Cohen talked to a handful of Jews, who are among the 25,000 remaining in Iran out of a one-time community of 100,000. Cohen reported that the Jews were “living, working and worshipping in relative tranquility.”
Despite the Holocaust denials and rants by President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad about wiping Israel off the map, “as a Jew, I have seldom been treated with such consistent warmth as in Iran,” Cohen wrote.
To some 30,000 Iranian Jews living in Los Angeles who had uprooted themselves from their ancient homeland, Cohen’s evaluation was dangerously naïve at best and a mockery of their own experiences at worst.
They inundated Cohen and the New York Times with letters and e-mails, and the columnist agreed to fly to Los Angeles to address his critics at Sinai Temple, which has a large proportion of Iranian congregants.
What could have been a highly emotional face-off went well, thanks largely to the audience’s restraint during Cohen’s lengthy presentation and Rabbi David Wolpe’s insistence on decorum during the more emotional question-and-answer period.
Cohen started by expanding on the main points of his earlier column:
* Labeling Iran a totalitarian regime ready to destroy Israel and then the West’s infidels is a “grotesque caricature.”
* Iranians are a proud people, but pay little attention to the regime’s propaganda and incitements. To compare the situation in Iran to an impending holocaust “dishonors the memory of six million victims.”
* Iran’s leadership is mainly pragmatic and primarily concerned with assuring its own survival.
* Iran is the most democratic state in the Middle East, outside Israel, and is against the Taliban and Al-Qaeda.
* An attack on Iran by Israel or the United States would be a global disaster. “Force is the unthinkable option,” Cohen said, and mutually respectful negotiations are the only answer.
* Although he counts himself as “a strong supporter of Israel,” Cohen believes that Israel “overplayed its hand in Lebanon and Gaza” and that Hamas and Hizbollah are “established political forces,” that cannot be eliminated by military means.
The audience politely applauded Cohen at the end of the talk, but when Wolpe opened the dialogue, some sparks – leavened by humor – were ignited.
Wolpe to Cohen: “You draw a distinction between the Iranian people and their rulers, but Iran has a long history of anti-Semitism…the Iranian government has republished the notorious anti-Semitic forgery ‘The Protocols of the Elders of Zion,’ and your New York Times column ran in the Teheran Post.
Cohen: “Then they stole my column.”
Wolpe: “That shows that it was worth stealing.”
Finally, it was the audience’s turn to confront Cohen directly, and the questions ranged from thoughtful to bitter.
“Were you paid by the Iranian government for your trip?” asked one audience member. “No,” said Cohen, though he paid an Iranian “agency” $150 a day for the services of a translator, who acknowledged that he would have to file a report on Cohen’s doings with the authorities.
Wolpe interjected that Cohen had paid for his own trip to speak at Sinai Temple.
Several questioners wondered how Cohen could take the answers of fearful Iranian Jews at face value, especially with a government translator at his side.
Cohen responded that he recognized the possibility of self-censorship by those he talked to, “but that doesn’t mean that nothing they said is of any value.”
Some of the sharpest questions came from the Bahai community, seven of whose leaders in Iran were recently imprisoned as alleged Israeli spies.
Cohen said he had not spoken to the Bahais, but was aware of their plight.
Despite his stout defense, it became obvious that Cohen was affected by the direct or implied criticism of his views by a knowledgeable audience.
“I feel your anger, indignation and pain,” he said. “I think that at some level you retain a love of country [Iran]. But I hope you will give some thought to what I have said.”
A sampling of audience reactions after the talk revealed little indication that Cohen’s request was acceptable.
“He didn’t understand the geopolitical situation, and he doesn’t know what he is talking about,” commented Jasmin Niku, a 22-year old law student.
Two veteran community leaders, who rarely see eye-to-eye but have excellent contacts inside Iran, also expressed strong reservations.
“In Iran, Jews are pawns of the regime, which will go to great lengths to persuade outsiders, like Cohen, who know little about the history of the Jewish community, that everything is just fine,” said George Haroonian.
Sam Kermanian was particularly disappointed, after spending two hours one-on-one with Cohen earlier in the day, trying to explain the real situation in Iran.
Kermanian, who is active in the Center for the Promotion of Democracy, based in Iran, said that the Teheran government is adamantly anti-American, whatever the sentiments of its people.
“If Cohen has come to a different conclusion, after talking to four or five Jews through an interpreter,” added Kermanian, “then he has been deceived.”
Showing posts with label Personal Vignettes and Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal Vignettes and Stories. Show all posts
Monday, April 13, 2009
Oldest Jewish Immigrant From Iran Arrives in L.A.
Jewish Journal. Karmel Melamed. 03/25/09.
(http://www.jewishjournal.com/50_Plus/article/oldest_jewish_immigrant_from_iran_arrives_in_la_20090325/)
Heshmat Elyasian, nearly 103 years old, at Los Angeles International Airport, where she arrived with her son and his family. An Iranian Jewish client of HIAS, the international migration agency, Heshmat is the oldest refugee in HIAS records, which date back to 1909, and may be the oldest ever to arrive in the United States. Photo by HIAS
After living in Iran for more than a century, witnessing the rise and fall of three kings and the upheaval of an Islamic revolution 30 years ago, 102-year-old Heshmat Elyasian arrived in Los Angeles two months ago with her immediate family to become the oldest Jewish immigrant from Iran to resettle in Los Angeles.
Because of an age-related mental decline, Elyasian was not fully aware that she had resettled in the United States. However, she said she was in good spirits during an interview with The Journal.
“I have some pain in my arms and legs from arthritis, but otherwise, thank God,” she said in her native Persian, while seated in a wheelchair and surrounded by family members at a relative’s home in the Valley.
Elyasian immigrated to the United States with her son, Manouchehr Tabari, and his family with the help of the New York-based Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS). According to HIAS records, Elyasian is the oldest refugee they have helped.
“Making the transition to life in America is not easy for many reasons, especially since the Iranian currency is worth so much less when converted to dollars, but we’re grateful to be here,” said 68-year-old Tabari, who was a cinematographer and filmmaker in Iran.
Tabari said the decision for his immediate family to leave Iran was based on his desire to pursue better educational opportunities for his children in the United States. Since extended families typically live together in Iran for many years, it was only natural for Tabari to immigrate with his mother.
“The plane trip here was very difficult for all of us, especially for my mother, because it was for many hours, and they had seated all of us in different parts of the airplane,” said Tabari, who now lives at his niece’s Tarzana home. “We are still trying to get over the exhaustion of the trip and the shocks of this new environment.”
Elyasian’s long life in Iran has not been the easiest, her son explained. After her marriage, her husband, who was a butcher, lost his savings after livestock he had purchased and ritually slaughtered were not kosher due to some impurities. The couple and their six children barely survived while they lived in poor conditions in Tehran’s run-down Jewish ghetto. Her husband was forced to work small and low-paying odd jobs, while she raised their children and also earned a living helping other families with their cooking, sewing and hand-washing their laundry.
“I am the only person in my family that has had formal education, and my mother really sacrificed on my behalf so that I could get an education,” said Tabari, who produced documentary films for television networks in Iran after studying film and drama in New York during the 1960s. “I’ve taken care of her myself ever since my father suddenly died of a heart attack at age 62.”
Iranian Jewish historical scholars said they were excited about Elyasian’s arrival in the United States because of her life experience and the fact that her father was one of a few Jewish musicians to entertain the late Iranian king, Nasser-al-Din Shah Qajar, which could shed new light on how Jews were treated in the king’s court during the early 20th century.
“Life was not easy for Jews living in Iran during the time this woman was born,” said Daniel Tsadik, a professor of Iranian studies at Yeshiva University in New York. “They were typically living in poverty, faced persecution in various cities and their movement was restricted in the country, because they were considered ritually impure by the local Muslim leaders.”
Despite several mattresses and open suitcases stuffed with clothing laid out in her living room, Elyasian’s granddaughter, Soheyla Tabari, said she was excited to welcome her grandmother and uncle’s family to stay with her temporarily until they settle in their new lives in Los Angeles.
“I’ve been telling them to come here for the past 20 years, and we lost some valuable time that we could have really enjoyed together,” Soheyla Tabari said. “But it’s been a great experience for all of us to find each other again — four generations living under one roof.”
Elyasian and her family have already begun the slow process of resettlement with the help of local Jewish agencies. Once Iranian Jewish families reach the United States, the Jewish Vocational Service, Jewish Family Service and other agencies affiliated with The Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles typically are among the first to help these new immigrants.
Local Iranian Jewish groups also have helped out, including the Torat Hayim Center, the SIAMAK organization and the Hope Foundation. These groups have collaborated to create the Caring Committee, which will temporarily help the family with rent, groceries, medical and legal bills, transportation and school tuition. The local Iranian American Jewish Federation has also been involved in helping these new immigrants.
The issue of Jewish immigration from Iran is particularly sensitive for local Iranian Jewish leaders. For the most part, the work of HIAS to help Jews emigrate from Iran since the 1980s has happened under the media radar in order not to embarrass the Iranian government. Community leaders have long feared that any publicity could potentially jeopardize the current flow of Jewish immigration out of Iran. The process of immigration varies for different Iranian Jews and can take anywhere from nine months to several years.
According to HIAS records, since 1979, the organization had aided more than 15,000 Iranian Jewish refugees in immigrating to the United States, nearly half of them to the Los Angeles area.
During 2007, the Chicago-based Christian Jewish nonprofit, International Fellowship of Christians and Jews (IFCJ), along with the Jewish Agency in Israel, offered $10,000 per person to encourage Jews to leave Iran and immigrate to Israel. IFCJ officials reported that of the 20,000 Jews still living in Iran, only 125 accepted the offer and immigrated to Israel.
Frank Nikbakht, an Iranian Jewish activist and director of the L.A.-based Committee for Minority Rights in Iran, said despite the Iranian regime’s hostility toward Israel and treatment of Jews as second-class citizens, a substantial number of Jews continue to stay in Iran because they feel they will face economic and cultural challenges if they leave the country.
“Some successful and resourceful Jews [in Iran] have either a false sense of security or are willing to take risks, hoping to outlast the regime,” Nikbakht said. “Some have converted to Islam or other ‘safer’ religions, such as Christianity, to help them survive.”
For his part, Tabari said he still has a fondness for Iran and hopes to travel back there at a later date to visit with his other family members. Likewise, he said his wife is planning to care for his mother while he is looking for employment in Los Angeles’ film industry.
“I am a very optimistic man and believe strongly that God will help us,” Tabari said. “America is a land of opportunity, and we are hoping for the best here”.
For more about this story and local Iranian Jews, visit Karmel Melamed’s blog: www.jewishjournal.com/iranianamericanjews.
(http://www.jewishjournal.com/50_Plus/article/oldest_jewish_immigrant_from_iran_arrives_in_la_20090325/)
Heshmat Elyasian, nearly 103 years old, at Los Angeles International Airport, where she arrived with her son and his family. An Iranian Jewish client of HIAS, the international migration agency, Heshmat is the oldest refugee in HIAS records, which date back to 1909, and may be the oldest ever to arrive in the United States. Photo by HIAS
After living in Iran for more than a century, witnessing the rise and fall of three kings and the upheaval of an Islamic revolution 30 years ago, 102-year-old Heshmat Elyasian arrived in Los Angeles two months ago with her immediate family to become the oldest Jewish immigrant from Iran to resettle in Los Angeles.
Because of an age-related mental decline, Elyasian was not fully aware that she had resettled in the United States. However, she said she was in good spirits during an interview with The Journal.
“I have some pain in my arms and legs from arthritis, but otherwise, thank God,” she said in her native Persian, while seated in a wheelchair and surrounded by family members at a relative’s home in the Valley.
Elyasian immigrated to the United States with her son, Manouchehr Tabari, and his family with the help of the New York-based Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS). According to HIAS records, Elyasian is the oldest refugee they have helped.
“Making the transition to life in America is not easy for many reasons, especially since the Iranian currency is worth so much less when converted to dollars, but we’re grateful to be here,” said 68-year-old Tabari, who was a cinematographer and filmmaker in Iran.
Tabari said the decision for his immediate family to leave Iran was based on his desire to pursue better educational opportunities for his children in the United States. Since extended families typically live together in Iran for many years, it was only natural for Tabari to immigrate with his mother.
“The plane trip here was very difficult for all of us, especially for my mother, because it was for many hours, and they had seated all of us in different parts of the airplane,” said Tabari, who now lives at his niece’s Tarzana home. “We are still trying to get over the exhaustion of the trip and the shocks of this new environment.”
Elyasian’s long life in Iran has not been the easiest, her son explained. After her marriage, her husband, who was a butcher, lost his savings after livestock he had purchased and ritually slaughtered were not kosher due to some impurities. The couple and their six children barely survived while they lived in poor conditions in Tehran’s run-down Jewish ghetto. Her husband was forced to work small and low-paying odd jobs, while she raised their children and also earned a living helping other families with their cooking, sewing and hand-washing their laundry.
“I am the only person in my family that has had formal education, and my mother really sacrificed on my behalf so that I could get an education,” said Tabari, who produced documentary films for television networks in Iran after studying film and drama in New York during the 1960s. “I’ve taken care of her myself ever since my father suddenly died of a heart attack at age 62.”
Iranian Jewish historical scholars said they were excited about Elyasian’s arrival in the United States because of her life experience and the fact that her father was one of a few Jewish musicians to entertain the late Iranian king, Nasser-al-Din Shah Qajar, which could shed new light on how Jews were treated in the king’s court during the early 20th century.
“Life was not easy for Jews living in Iran during the time this woman was born,” said Daniel Tsadik, a professor of Iranian studies at Yeshiva University in New York. “They were typically living in poverty, faced persecution in various cities and their movement was restricted in the country, because they were considered ritually impure by the local Muslim leaders.”
Despite several mattresses and open suitcases stuffed with clothing laid out in her living room, Elyasian’s granddaughter, Soheyla Tabari, said she was excited to welcome her grandmother and uncle’s family to stay with her temporarily until they settle in their new lives in Los Angeles.
“I’ve been telling them to come here for the past 20 years, and we lost some valuable time that we could have really enjoyed together,” Soheyla Tabari said. “But it’s been a great experience for all of us to find each other again — four generations living under one roof.”
Elyasian and her family have already begun the slow process of resettlement with the help of local Jewish agencies. Once Iranian Jewish families reach the United States, the Jewish Vocational Service, Jewish Family Service and other agencies affiliated with The Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles typically are among the first to help these new immigrants.
Local Iranian Jewish groups also have helped out, including the Torat Hayim Center, the SIAMAK organization and the Hope Foundation. These groups have collaborated to create the Caring Committee, which will temporarily help the family with rent, groceries, medical and legal bills, transportation and school tuition. The local Iranian American Jewish Federation has also been involved in helping these new immigrants.
The issue of Jewish immigration from Iran is particularly sensitive for local Iranian Jewish leaders. For the most part, the work of HIAS to help Jews emigrate from Iran since the 1980s has happened under the media radar in order not to embarrass the Iranian government. Community leaders have long feared that any publicity could potentially jeopardize the current flow of Jewish immigration out of Iran. The process of immigration varies for different Iranian Jews and can take anywhere from nine months to several years.
According to HIAS records, since 1979, the organization had aided more than 15,000 Iranian Jewish refugees in immigrating to the United States, nearly half of them to the Los Angeles area.
During 2007, the Chicago-based Christian Jewish nonprofit, International Fellowship of Christians and Jews (IFCJ), along with the Jewish Agency in Israel, offered $10,000 per person to encourage Jews to leave Iran and immigrate to Israel. IFCJ officials reported that of the 20,000 Jews still living in Iran, only 125 accepted the offer and immigrated to Israel.
Frank Nikbakht, an Iranian Jewish activist and director of the L.A.-based Committee for Minority Rights in Iran, said despite the Iranian regime’s hostility toward Israel and treatment of Jews as second-class citizens, a substantial number of Jews continue to stay in Iran because they feel they will face economic and cultural challenges if they leave the country.
“Some successful and resourceful Jews [in Iran] have either a false sense of security or are willing to take risks, hoping to outlast the regime,” Nikbakht said. “Some have converted to Islam or other ‘safer’ religions, such as Christianity, to help them survive.”
For his part, Tabari said he still has a fondness for Iran and hopes to travel back there at a later date to visit with his other family members. Likewise, he said his wife is planning to care for his mother while he is looking for employment in Los Angeles’ film industry.
“I am a very optimistic man and believe strongly that God will help us,” Tabari said. “America is a land of opportunity, and we are hoping for the best here”.
For more about this story and local Iranian Jews, visit Karmel Melamed’s blog: www.jewishjournal.com/iranianamericanjews.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Three Iranians seeking conversion to Judaism denied Israel visas
Yoav Stern. Haaretz. 12/28/2006. (http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/806545.html)
Three Iranians interested in converting to Judaism recently left their native country, but have been unable to find any entity to assist them.
The three Shi'ite Muslims left Iran and approached the Israeli embassy and Jewish communities in Azerbaijan, but were rejected. It is impossible to convert to Judaism in Iran, as they would be considered heretics, a crime punishable by death. They are now waiting in a makeshift city in Turkey for a United Nations hearing on their application for refugee status.
The three left Iran two months ago and immediately approached the Israeli embassy in Baku. According to N., they were given a chilly reception. N. points out that embassy officials did not invite them into the building, but talked to them on the street.
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"We told them we want visas to Israel in order to convert," N. recounts. "They told us that if we are not Jewish, our parents aren't Jewish and we have no family members in Israel, we cannot get visas."
The three also did not receive warm welcomes in Baku synagogues. At one place of worship, they were laughed at, at another - locked out. They were told there is no rabbinical court that can handle conversion in Baku.
N. says he became interested in other religions while still a practicing Shi'ite, and learned that Judaism was the basis of the other religions. N. wrote to the United Nations: "Since I stopped obeying the Muslim commandments, my soul has sought a way home. In order to be a complete Jew, it is necessary to undergo official processes."
Iran does not officially allow its citizens to travel to Israel, although many of the 25,000-strong Jewish community have done so through Turkey.
The three potential converts are now waiting for a February hearing date, and dependent on financial help from their families. "The Iranian authorities are aware of our plans. They can't hurt us so they are trying to harm our families." They hope to get assistance from some Israeli or Jewish institutions.
Contact with the three is mostly through e-mail and the occasional phone call from N., who always verifies at the beginning of each call that recent e-mails really originated in Israel and not with Iranian security forces.
The Foreign Ministry stated that the three approached the Baku embassy on a weekend when offices were closed, and have not returned. They would have been helped during regular office hours. The ministry also noted that Israeli law prohibits entry to Israel for the purposes of conversion, although there is an appeals committee to examine specific cases
Three Iranians interested in converting to Judaism recently left their native country, but have been unable to find any entity to assist them.
The three Shi'ite Muslims left Iran and approached the Israeli embassy and Jewish communities in Azerbaijan, but were rejected. It is impossible to convert to Judaism in Iran, as they would be considered heretics, a crime punishable by death. They are now waiting in a makeshift city in Turkey for a United Nations hearing on their application for refugee status.
The three left Iran two months ago and immediately approached the Israeli embassy in Baku. According to N., they were given a chilly reception. N. points out that embassy officials did not invite them into the building, but talked to them on the street.
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"We told them we want visas to Israel in order to convert," N. recounts. "They told us that if we are not Jewish, our parents aren't Jewish and we have no family members in Israel, we cannot get visas."
The three also did not receive warm welcomes in Baku synagogues. At one place of worship, they were laughed at, at another - locked out. They were told there is no rabbinical court that can handle conversion in Baku.
N. says he became interested in other religions while still a practicing Shi'ite, and learned that Judaism was the basis of the other religions. N. wrote to the United Nations: "Since I stopped obeying the Muslim commandments, my soul has sought a way home. In order to be a complete Jew, it is necessary to undergo official processes."
Iran does not officially allow its citizens to travel to Israel, although many of the 25,000-strong Jewish community have done so through Turkey.
The three potential converts are now waiting for a February hearing date, and dependent on financial help from their families. "The Iranian authorities are aware of our plans. They can't hurt us so they are trying to harm our families." They hope to get assistance from some Israeli or Jewish institutions.
Contact with the three is mostly through e-mail and the occasional phone call from N., who always verifies at the beginning of each call that recent e-mails really originated in Israel and not with Iranian security forces.
The Foreign Ministry stated that the three approached the Baku embassy on a weekend when offices were closed, and have not returned. They would have been helped during regular office hours. The ministry also noted that Israeli law prohibits entry to Israel for the purposes of conversion, although there is an appeals committee to examine specific cases
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Israel Radio Often Finds Best Friends Are Iranian
Joel Greenberg. The New York Times. 02/20/1998.
(http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9D00E1DE103FF933A15751C0A96E958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=print)
The young woman calling from Iran spoke very quietly into the telephone.
''Thank you for your very good program,'' she said to the answering machine of Israeli radio's Persian-language service. ''Your news is very reliable, because in our country the news is worthless. Thank you for the beautiful music you play. Please put on more.''
Another Iranian caller, who also kept his voice down, said: ''I shake your hands. Why do people come and plant bombs, cutting innocent people to shreds and killing Israelis? Why? Putting bombs in buses is really inhuman. Why do people do this? They get a green light from Arafat.''
Such expressions of sympathy from Iran, an implacable enemy of Israel, come as no surprise to Menashe Amir, director of the Voice of Israel's Persian section.
''The people of Iran are not the regime,'' he said, sipping tea at his desk, Persian style, a sugar cube in his mouth. An Iranian-born Jew who immigrated 38 years ago, Mr. Amir, 58, heads a small staff of Iranian-born Israelis who produce the broadcasts to the Islamic republic.
Despite Iran's hostility to Israel, the shortwave broadcasts are received across Iran, along with more than a dozen foreign stations like the BBC and the Voice of America.
For nearly 40 years, Israeli radio has been beaming broadcasts without interference to Iran, as well as more extensive programs in Arabic to neighboring Arab countries. The Israeli broadcasts are not jammed by these countries, apparently to avoid retaliatory blocking of their broadcasts to Israel.
Mr. Amir says Iranian press reports, traveling Iranians and foreign diplomats indicate that the Israeli station enjoys wide popularity. He says it has millions of listeners, and produces piles of mail to support his contention. The letters are sent to a post office box in Europe.
Listeners also contact the station through a phone number in the United States, and some of their remarks are later played on the air. The calls and letters arrive indirectly because there is no phone or mail service from Iran to Israel, although calls can be made from Israel to Iran.
The Israeli broadcasts -- which include detailed news about Iran from sources in the country and abroad as well as reports about Israel -- have an impact. Iranian papers routinely cite reports from the ''Zionist regime radio,'' and Iranian radio rebuts the Israeli radio's commentaries. Even the spiritual leader of Iran, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, has inveighed against the broadcasts.
Mr. Amir says his station is popular because it gives Iranians domestic news that goes unreported by the Government-controlled news media, like opposition speeches and information about corruption cases, in a longer news program than other foreign broadcasts.
The Israeli programs also carry foreign recordings of popular Persian music banned under the stern cultural codes of the Islamic Republic, as well as interviews with exiled Iranian intellectuals.
''We present a different Iran, which the younger generation born after the Islamic revolution isn't familiar with,'' Mr. Amir said, adding, ''We talk to the listeners informally, as brothers.''
Iranians sometimes contact the Israeli station to advertise for a prospective spouse or to pour out personal troubles. The station passes along responses to those seeking partners and airs other messages.
''Once I read out a letter from an Iranian woman who described how she had lost her fiance in the war with Iraq,'' Mr. Amir said, ''and I was so moved that I cried on the air. That caused quite a stir in Iran.''
Not all listeners like what they hear. Some call the Israeli station's answering machine to hurl abuse or to leave messages like ''Death to Israel!''
Once a week Mr. Amir delivers a commentary that seeks to counter the harsh anti-Israeli positions of the Iranian leadership.
In a recent broadcast, he even enlisted conciliatory remarks toward the West made by the Iranian President, Mohammad Khatami. The coincidence of Christmas, Hannukah and the Muslim holy month of Ramadan this year shows links between the three monotheistic religions, Mr. Amir told his listeners.
The constant flow of listener responses has convinced him that ordinary Iranians are much less hostile to Israel than might be expected from the Government's position. He recalled a stream of sympathetic phone calls after Hamas suicide bombings in Israel, even as the attacks were officially being praised.
Clearly, the Israeli station provides an outlet for dissent.
''I believe in Islam, but not in the regime of the mullahs,'' said one caller.
But another asked, ''If the Iranian regime is compelled to stop its hostile policies toward Israel, will the Voice of Israel change its policy, and stop telling the truth about Iran?''
Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company Home Privacy Policy Search Corrections XML Help Contact Us Work for Us Back to Top
(http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9D00E1DE103FF933A15751C0A96E958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=print)
The young woman calling from Iran spoke very quietly into the telephone.
''Thank you for your very good program,'' she said to the answering machine of Israeli radio's Persian-language service. ''Your news is very reliable, because in our country the news is worthless. Thank you for the beautiful music you play. Please put on more.''
Another Iranian caller, who also kept his voice down, said: ''I shake your hands. Why do people come and plant bombs, cutting innocent people to shreds and killing Israelis? Why? Putting bombs in buses is really inhuman. Why do people do this? They get a green light from Arafat.''
Such expressions of sympathy from Iran, an implacable enemy of Israel, come as no surprise to Menashe Amir, director of the Voice of Israel's Persian section.
''The people of Iran are not the regime,'' he said, sipping tea at his desk, Persian style, a sugar cube in his mouth. An Iranian-born Jew who immigrated 38 years ago, Mr. Amir, 58, heads a small staff of Iranian-born Israelis who produce the broadcasts to the Islamic republic.
Despite Iran's hostility to Israel, the shortwave broadcasts are received across Iran, along with more than a dozen foreign stations like the BBC and the Voice of America.
For nearly 40 years, Israeli radio has been beaming broadcasts without interference to Iran, as well as more extensive programs in Arabic to neighboring Arab countries. The Israeli broadcasts are not jammed by these countries, apparently to avoid retaliatory blocking of their broadcasts to Israel.
Mr. Amir says Iranian press reports, traveling Iranians and foreign diplomats indicate that the Israeli station enjoys wide popularity. He says it has millions of listeners, and produces piles of mail to support his contention. The letters are sent to a post office box in Europe.
Listeners also contact the station through a phone number in the United States, and some of their remarks are later played on the air. The calls and letters arrive indirectly because there is no phone or mail service from Iran to Israel, although calls can be made from Israel to Iran.
The Israeli broadcasts -- which include detailed news about Iran from sources in the country and abroad as well as reports about Israel -- have an impact. Iranian papers routinely cite reports from the ''Zionist regime radio,'' and Iranian radio rebuts the Israeli radio's commentaries. Even the spiritual leader of Iran, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, has inveighed against the broadcasts.
Mr. Amir says his station is popular because it gives Iranians domestic news that goes unreported by the Government-controlled news media, like opposition speeches and information about corruption cases, in a longer news program than other foreign broadcasts.
The Israeli programs also carry foreign recordings of popular Persian music banned under the stern cultural codes of the Islamic Republic, as well as interviews with exiled Iranian intellectuals.
''We present a different Iran, which the younger generation born after the Islamic revolution isn't familiar with,'' Mr. Amir said, adding, ''We talk to the listeners informally, as brothers.''
Iranians sometimes contact the Israeli station to advertise for a prospective spouse or to pour out personal troubles. The station passes along responses to those seeking partners and airs other messages.
''Once I read out a letter from an Iranian woman who described how she had lost her fiance in the war with Iraq,'' Mr. Amir said, ''and I was so moved that I cried on the air. That caused quite a stir in Iran.''
Not all listeners like what they hear. Some call the Israeli station's answering machine to hurl abuse or to leave messages like ''Death to Israel!''
Once a week Mr. Amir delivers a commentary that seeks to counter the harsh anti-Israeli positions of the Iranian leadership.
In a recent broadcast, he even enlisted conciliatory remarks toward the West made by the Iranian President, Mohammad Khatami. The coincidence of Christmas, Hannukah and the Muslim holy month of Ramadan this year shows links between the three monotheistic religions, Mr. Amir told his listeners.
The constant flow of listener responses has convinced him that ordinary Iranians are much less hostile to Israel than might be expected from the Government's position. He recalled a stream of sympathetic phone calls after Hamas suicide bombings in Israel, even as the attacks were officially being praised.
Clearly, the Israeli station provides an outlet for dissent.
''I believe in Islam, but not in the regime of the mullahs,'' said one caller.
But another asked, ''If the Iranian regime is compelled to stop its hostile policies toward Israel, will the Voice of Israel change its policy, and stop telling the truth about Iran?''
Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company Home Privacy Policy Search Corrections XML Help Contact Us Work for Us Back to Top
Making Music, Not War. Iranian and Israeli musicians in Prague bridge their countries
Nima Tamaddon. 07/06/2008. Iranian.com (http://www.iranian.com/main)
On Saturday, June 28, when the fear of looming [1]war [2]against Iran [3] was on the rise, here, in Prague, Iranian and Israeli musicians came together to perform in a warm and memorable concert in a prestigious and the oldest Czech world music festival, Respect [4], in a Woodstockesque flavor and atmosphere. [photos [5]]
Saeed Shanbehzadeh, a maestro of Ney-Anban (or as we call it in southern Iran: Ney-Anbooneh), after an hour of playing Bushehri ethnic music together with his 15 year old son Nagheeb, a very skilled drummer and percussionist, invited two Israeli percussionists [6] participating in the festival to join them and let the people listen to an improvisation.
Shanbehzadeh has been based in Paris for the last five years and has not been to Iran, because his music does not match the Islamic Republic’s decency codes. Ironically, before inviting his Israeli colleagues to the stage, he explained to the audience that as an Iranian, he can not travel to Israel. “It is mentioned in my passport that the holder of this passport is not entitled to travel to the occupied Palestine.”
Then Saeed, Nagheeb and the two Israeli percussionists started to play an improvisation by Ney-Anban, Timpo and Tonbak.
As the show drew to a close, Saeed reminded the excited and ecstatic audience, “Did you see? Now with music, I traveled to Israel and the Israelis travelled to Iran...” The audience responded with delight and roaring applause.
Next day, while the danger of war with Iran was still looming, the most popular daily in the Czech Republic described the event as “Respect festival, in its best year, linked Iran with Israel [7].”
The Czech newspaper added: “They improvised and everybody got the impression that Iranian and Israeli musicians do not care about the politico-religious issues between policy makers. In the field of music, there is no dispute between them and both nations have great culture(s) … what the audience appropriately valued.”
After the concert, Saeed Shanbehzadeh who is very familiar with World Music events and is a well known musician in international festivals such as WOMAD [8], told me that in different places like Singapore, he had played with Israeli musicians to show audiences that, people of Iran, are not willing to wipe Israel off the map.
I personally know Saeed since the late 80's when I was living with my family in Bushehr. During that time we used to call him Ferazoo, and I still remember his strong motivation to reach success in music and in sports (I think he became a champion once in middle distance running in the province).
In his effort to send the massage of peace by performing with musicians from a country labeled as the archenemy of the Islamic Republic, Saeed is not trying to behave ostentatiously or in a conspicuous way. His intention is not to use such gestures to make a name for himself among Iranians or in the wider international arena.
Saeed wishes to be a representative of unknown Iranian musicians who put a lot of effort into their music in a place where their art is not appreciated by the government. Not only they endure official restrictions and pressures in their daily work but it is also hard for them to travel abroad and present their music to non-Iranian music lovers.
Shanbehzadeh believes that lack of government support makes Iranian music more and more isolated and the ones who are potentially the true love and peace messengers of the people of Iran can not get a chance to make their voices heard in the world.
Such an atmosphere gives a chance to “unqualified musicians to pick up an instrument like Tar, Setar, Tonbak and make themselves established as guardians of Persian music.”
Saeed Shanbehzadeh has played Bushehri ethnic music alongside other famous [9]artists [10] from the four corners of the world [11] in different international jazz and World Music festivals, including Peter Gabriel's WOMAD.
As we were having a friendly chat during his trip to Prague, he joked about the situation of Iranian music abroad and said “the efforts of those who profess to be the guardians of Iranian music abroad, while no one knows their music, shouldn't be taken so seriously, and there is a Persian proverb which truly expresses this situation by saying: LAAF DAR GHORBAT, VA GOOZ DAR BAZAR-E MESGAR-HAA.”
On Saturday, June 28, when the fear of looming [1]war [2]against Iran [3] was on the rise, here, in Prague, Iranian and Israeli musicians came together to perform in a warm and memorable concert in a prestigious and the oldest Czech world music festival, Respect [4], in a Woodstockesque flavor and atmosphere. [photos [5]]
Saeed Shanbehzadeh, a maestro of Ney-Anban (or as we call it in southern Iran: Ney-Anbooneh), after an hour of playing Bushehri ethnic music together with his 15 year old son Nagheeb, a very skilled drummer and percussionist, invited two Israeli percussionists [6] participating in the festival to join them and let the people listen to an improvisation.
Shanbehzadeh has been based in Paris for the last five years and has not been to Iran, because his music does not match the Islamic Republic’s decency codes. Ironically, before inviting his Israeli colleagues to the stage, he explained to the audience that as an Iranian, he can not travel to Israel. “It is mentioned in my passport that the holder of this passport is not entitled to travel to the occupied Palestine.”
Then Saeed, Nagheeb and the two Israeli percussionists started to play an improvisation by Ney-Anban, Timpo and Tonbak.
As the show drew to a close, Saeed reminded the excited and ecstatic audience, “Did you see? Now with music, I traveled to Israel and the Israelis travelled to Iran...” The audience responded with delight and roaring applause.
Next day, while the danger of war with Iran was still looming, the most popular daily in the Czech Republic described the event as “Respect festival, in its best year, linked Iran with Israel [7].”
The Czech newspaper added: “They improvised and everybody got the impression that Iranian and Israeli musicians do not care about the politico-religious issues between policy makers. In the field of music, there is no dispute between them and both nations have great culture(s) … what the audience appropriately valued.”
After the concert, Saeed Shanbehzadeh who is very familiar with World Music events and is a well known musician in international festivals such as WOMAD [8], told me that in different places like Singapore, he had played with Israeli musicians to show audiences that, people of Iran, are not willing to wipe Israel off the map.
I personally know Saeed since the late 80's when I was living with my family in Bushehr. During that time we used to call him Ferazoo, and I still remember his strong motivation to reach success in music and in sports (I think he became a champion once in middle distance running in the province).
In his effort to send the massage of peace by performing with musicians from a country labeled as the archenemy of the Islamic Republic, Saeed is not trying to behave ostentatiously or in a conspicuous way. His intention is not to use such gestures to make a name for himself among Iranians or in the wider international arena.
Saeed wishes to be a representative of unknown Iranian musicians who put a lot of effort into their music in a place where their art is not appreciated by the government. Not only they endure official restrictions and pressures in their daily work but it is also hard for them to travel abroad and present their music to non-Iranian music lovers.
Shanbehzadeh believes that lack of government support makes Iranian music more and more isolated and the ones who are potentially the true love and peace messengers of the people of Iran can not get a chance to make their voices heard in the world.
Such an atmosphere gives a chance to “unqualified musicians to pick up an instrument like Tar, Setar, Tonbak and make themselves established as guardians of Persian music.”
Saeed Shanbehzadeh has played Bushehri ethnic music alongside other famous [9]artists [10] from the four corners of the world [11] in different international jazz and World Music festivals, including Peter Gabriel's WOMAD.
As we were having a friendly chat during his trip to Prague, he joked about the situation of Iranian music abroad and said “the efforts of those who profess to be the guardians of Iranian music abroad, while no one knows their music, shouldn't be taken so seriously, and there is a Persian proverb which truly expresses this situation by saying: LAAF DAR GHORBAT, VA GOOZ DAR BAZAR-E MESGAR-HAA.”
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Israel denies entry to Muslim wife of Jewish Iranian immigrant
Yoav Stern, Haaretz. 04/14/2007
(http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/848044.html)
Israel has refused entry to the Muslim wife of a Jewish immigrant from Iran. The wife is currently in Turkey but could be sent back to Iran within days, where she is likely to be severely punished.
The immigrant, Puriya Hajaram on Thursday appealed to Haaretz for help in bringing his wife to Israel. "I was told before coming that I would get help here. Otherwise I wouldn't have come alone," he said.
Hajaram, 23, left Iran with his wife, R., for fear of being drafted into the Iranian army. The two crossed the border to Turkey illegally. They went to the Israeli consulate, where they were told that only Hajaram could get an entrance visa to Israel because his family lives here.
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His wife remained in a cheap hotel in Istanbul waiting for a permit to join her husband.
"From the first day we left until four days ago she hasn't left the hotel. She has no passport," he said.
A few days ago she was caught by the Turkish police. Hajaram said she was arrested when she left her room to take a shower. The Turkish police now intend to deport her to Iran. "I pray and beg they don't deport her. The Torah says that if someone needs help we must help him," he said.
Officials at the Jewish Agency and Israeli consulate promised him that he would be able to send for his wife once he immigrated, he said.
He arrived eight months ago, went to an ulpan and now speaks broken Hebrew. From the moment he could, Hajaram has been trying to bring his wife to Israel. "I went back and forth to offices and in the end they wrote to me that there is a security problem. I know there is no such problem, I know my wife and her family and none of them work for the government," he said.
The Interior Ministry said that Puriya's wife was refused entry for security reasons. The Shin Bet commented that "according to the security standards, this case does not enable entry to Israel." However, "specific cases may be examined as exceptions. Each such request would be looked at in a practical way, taking account of the particular circumstances," the Shin Bet said.
Hajaram's wife intended to convert to Judaism after finding a rabbi to help her. Hajaram is about to join the IDF. "I'm going to the army to help Israel, and I ask it to help me," he said. "Jews, Muslims, all Israelis. Somebody, help us."
Eric Vernon contributed to this report.
(http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/848044.html)
Israel has refused entry to the Muslim wife of a Jewish immigrant from Iran. The wife is currently in Turkey but could be sent back to Iran within days, where she is likely to be severely punished.
The immigrant, Puriya Hajaram on Thursday appealed to Haaretz for help in bringing his wife to Israel. "I was told before coming that I would get help here. Otherwise I wouldn't have come alone," he said.
Hajaram, 23, left Iran with his wife, R., for fear of being drafted into the Iranian army. The two crossed the border to Turkey illegally. They went to the Israeli consulate, where they were told that only Hajaram could get an entrance visa to Israel because his family lives here.
Advertisement
His wife remained in a cheap hotel in Istanbul waiting for a permit to join her husband.
"From the first day we left until four days ago she hasn't left the hotel. She has no passport," he said.
A few days ago she was caught by the Turkish police. Hajaram said she was arrested when she left her room to take a shower. The Turkish police now intend to deport her to Iran. "I pray and beg they don't deport her. The Torah says that if someone needs help we must help him," he said.
Officials at the Jewish Agency and Israeli consulate promised him that he would be able to send for his wife once he immigrated, he said.
He arrived eight months ago, went to an ulpan and now speaks broken Hebrew. From the moment he could, Hajaram has been trying to bring his wife to Israel. "I went back and forth to offices and in the end they wrote to me that there is a security problem. I know there is no such problem, I know my wife and her family and none of them work for the government," he said.
The Interior Ministry said that Puriya's wife was refused entry for security reasons. The Shin Bet commented that "according to the security standards, this case does not enable entry to Israel." However, "specific cases may be examined as exceptions. Each such request would be looked at in a practical way, taking account of the particular circumstances," the Shin Bet said.
Hajaram's wife intended to convert to Judaism after finding a rabbi to help her. Hajaram is about to join the IDF. "I'm going to the army to help Israel, and I ask it to help me," he said. "Jews, Muslims, all Israelis. Somebody, help us."
Eric Vernon contributed to this report.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Iranian Jews Find New Homes in Israel
Accessed 12/28/07
Associated Press
http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/meast/12/25/israel.iranianexodus.ap/index.html
TEL AVIV, Israel (AP) -- Greeted by joyous relatives and a crowd of reporters, about 40 Iranian Jews landed in Israel on Tuesday, leaving behind their lives in the Islamic republic for new homes in the Jewish state.
Iranian Jews, who didn't want to be identified, arrive at Ben Gurion airport near Tel Aviv, Israel, on Tuesday.
Family members screamed in delight and threw candy at the newcomers as they emerged into the airport reception hall after a long bureaucratic procedure. No details about their route of exit from Iran were given.
"I feel so good," said Yosef, 16. He and his brother Michael arrived with their parents and a sister and were greeted by their grandparents, who went to Israel six years ago.
"I just saw all of my family. You can't put that into words," Yosef said. The brothers declined to give their family name to protect relatives still in Iran. Watch the emotional arrivals »
The new arrivals were sponsored by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, a charity that funnels millions of dollars from evangelical donors each year.
Its founder, Rabbi Yehiel Eckstein, said by telephone from Chicago, Illinois, that each immigrant received $10,000 because they left behind all their possessions and "start in Israel with nothing," although many said at the airport that they were joining family already here.
Evangelical backers of Israel say they are following a biblical prophecy that the creation of a Jewish state here is a step toward the Messianic Age. Some Israeli critics saying their ultimate goal is to convert Jews to Christianity, which the evangelicals deny.
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Michael, 15, said he told all his friends where he was going, and they wanted to come along.
"I was scared in Iran as a Jew," he said.
No comment was available Tuesday from the Iranian government.
Iran's Jewish community of about 25,000 people is protected by the country's constitution and remains the largest in the Muslim Middle East. Synagogues, Jewish schools and stores operate openly in the capital, but Jews also report discrimination and increasing concerns about hard-line President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's hostility toward Israel.
About 200 Iranian Jews arrived in Israel this year, more than any other year since the Islamic Revolution in 1979, said Michael Jankelowitz, spokesman for the quasi-governmental Jewish Agency, which deals with immigration.
Benjamin Yakobi, 16, has lived in Israel seven years. As he waited for his cousin, he said Israel is safer than Iran.
"Here we are all Jewish, and we are not worried that someone will do something," he said.
"I'm in heaven," gushed Avraham Dayan, 63, as he waited for his son, daughter-in-law and grandson to arrive. He said he had not seen his 38-year-old son in 11 years, missing his son's wedding and the birth of his grandson.
The newcomers were also mobbed by Israeli reporters and TV camera crews. Their arrival was the top story on the evening newscast of Israel's Channel 2 TV. Television pictures broadcast locally did not show their faces, reflecting concern that publicity could lead to harm of Jews still in Iran.
Meir Javedanfar, an Israeli analyst whose family emigrated from Iran in the 1980s, said Jews are generally free to practice their religion inside Iran, but are increasingly concerned about the intensity of attacks on Israel by the Iranian press, which they view as bordering on anti-Semitism, he said.
But Eckstein warned that the situation facing Iranian Jews is critical because of the attitude of Ahmadinejad, who has repeatedly called for the disappearance of Israel. Despite a recent U.S. intelligence report that found Iran has stopped its nuclear weapons program, Israel believes Iran is still trying to build a nuclear bomb.
"By the time they realize it's not going to blow over, it'll be too late," Eckstein said. "All it needs is a U.S. or Israeli strike against Iran's nuclear program for them to come down strong on the local Jewish population."
In 2000, Iranian authorities arrested 10 Jews, convicted them of spying for Israel and sentenced them to prison terms ranging from four to 13 years. An appeals court later reduced their sentences under international pressure and eventually freed them
Associated Press
http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/meast/12/25/israel.iranianexodus.ap/index.html
TEL AVIV, Israel (AP) -- Greeted by joyous relatives and a crowd of reporters, about 40 Iranian Jews landed in Israel on Tuesday, leaving behind their lives in the Islamic republic for new homes in the Jewish state.
Iranian Jews, who didn't want to be identified, arrive at Ben Gurion airport near Tel Aviv, Israel, on Tuesday.
Family members screamed in delight and threw candy at the newcomers as they emerged into the airport reception hall after a long bureaucratic procedure. No details about their route of exit from Iran were given.
"I feel so good," said Yosef, 16. He and his brother Michael arrived with their parents and a sister and were greeted by their grandparents, who went to Israel six years ago.
"I just saw all of my family. You can't put that into words," Yosef said. The brothers declined to give their family name to protect relatives still in Iran. Watch the emotional arrivals »
The new arrivals were sponsored by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, a charity that funnels millions of dollars from evangelical donors each year.
Its founder, Rabbi Yehiel Eckstein, said by telephone from Chicago, Illinois, that each immigrant received $10,000 because they left behind all their possessions and "start in Israel with nothing," although many said at the airport that they were joining family already here.
Evangelical backers of Israel say they are following a biblical prophecy that the creation of a Jewish state here is a step toward the Messianic Age. Some Israeli critics saying their ultimate goal is to convert Jews to Christianity, which the evangelicals deny.
Don't Miss
Iran: Bushehr nuclear plant ready by March
Iran's president: U.S. report "a positive step"
Michael, 15, said he told all his friends where he was going, and they wanted to come along.
"I was scared in Iran as a Jew," he said.
No comment was available Tuesday from the Iranian government.
Iran's Jewish community of about 25,000 people is protected by the country's constitution and remains the largest in the Muslim Middle East. Synagogues, Jewish schools and stores operate openly in the capital, but Jews also report discrimination and increasing concerns about hard-line President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's hostility toward Israel.
About 200 Iranian Jews arrived in Israel this year, more than any other year since the Islamic Revolution in 1979, said Michael Jankelowitz, spokesman for the quasi-governmental Jewish Agency, which deals with immigration.
Benjamin Yakobi, 16, has lived in Israel seven years. As he waited for his cousin, he said Israel is safer than Iran.
"Here we are all Jewish, and we are not worried that someone will do something," he said.
"I'm in heaven," gushed Avraham Dayan, 63, as he waited for his son, daughter-in-law and grandson to arrive. He said he had not seen his 38-year-old son in 11 years, missing his son's wedding and the birth of his grandson.
The newcomers were also mobbed by Israeli reporters and TV camera crews. Their arrival was the top story on the evening newscast of Israel's Channel 2 TV. Television pictures broadcast locally did not show their faces, reflecting concern that publicity could lead to harm of Jews still in Iran.
Meir Javedanfar, an Israeli analyst whose family emigrated from Iran in the 1980s, said Jews are generally free to practice their religion inside Iran, but are increasingly concerned about the intensity of attacks on Israel by the Iranian press, which they view as bordering on anti-Semitism, he said.
But Eckstein warned that the situation facing Iranian Jews is critical because of the attitude of Ahmadinejad, who has repeatedly called for the disappearance of Israel. Despite a recent U.S. intelligence report that found Iran has stopped its nuclear weapons program, Israel believes Iran is still trying to build a nuclear bomb.
"By the time they realize it's not going to blow over, it'll be too late," Eckstein said. "All it needs is a U.S. or Israeli strike against Iran's nuclear program for them to come down strong on the local Jewish population."
In 2000, Iranian authorities arrested 10 Jews, convicted them of spying for Israel and sentenced them to prison terms ranging from four to 13 years. An appeals court later reduced their sentences under international pressure and eventually freed them
Friday, December 7, 2007
Christiane Amanpour Reports on CNN's New Doc Series
TV Guide. (http://community.tvguide.com/blog-entry/TVGuide-Editors-Blog/Biz/Christiane-Amanpour-Reports/800020457)
Stephen Battaglio
08/15/2007
Christiane Amanpour courtesy CNNCNN chief international correspondent Christiane Amanpour has been reporting from overseas hot spots since 1989, so she knows firsthand about God's Warriors, the subject of her three-part documentary series airing Aug. 21 to 23 at 9 pm/ET. Over six hours, Amanpour dissects the recent history of the fundamentalist elements of three Abrahamic faiths — Judaism, Christianity and Islam — and how they want to transform society to fit their beliefs. The Biz recently talked with Amanpour about her willingness to dig deep into serious issues and go against the tabloid tide that's been pulling at cable news.
TVGuide.com: Cable news has changed a lot over the last 15 years, but you're still able to go out and do serious long-form pieces. Who drives that? Do you have to push to get them done? When we think of cable news, we're not thinking about this kind of material anymore.
Christiane Amanpour: I agree that it has changed an awful lot since Ted Turner created it. I think there is something to be said for CNN that in this completely changed environment we continue to do these kinds of reports. I particularly like doing this, as you can imagine. I'm not the Paris Hilton/Anna Nicole Smith kind of reporter. I really like these meaty issues, because I'm convinced that this is what people want to know about. Everyone who I talk to asks me what I'm working on, and I tell them religion — and they tell me it's something on their minds right now.
TVGuide.com: To make a good documentary, it's said you have to have a strong point of view.
Amanpour: I agree that some kinds of documentaries do require that. This is a documentary in a different sense: It documents the process [by which] extreme Jews, Christians or Muslims try to reshape society into what they think God's image is and according to what they believe God's teachings are. We didn't go out to do "Wackos-R-Us," because a lot of that has been done. We went out to [examine] people who have a particularly extreme vision and what that means to us as a society — how they affect us.
TVGuide.com: But is that tricky to do because we are in this media environment where everyone's reporting is so scrutinized for bias? Are you feeling pressures now that you didn't feel 10 years ago?
Amanpour: I will admit that there is a lot of pressure out there. I just don't happen to feel it. I live abroad and I don't seek out all the blogs and all the verbiage that is out there. Frankly, there would be no time to do anything else, and I'm not that interested in what people are saying about me. It's a lot of people's personal opinions. I've been doing this for a long, long time and I know clearly what my professional mission is and I stick to it.
TVGuide.com: And how do you define that these days?
Amanpour: To do something that I admit is getting to be an endangered species: [to be] a relentless foreign correspondent bringing this kind of real journalism back to people who really want it. The audience still wants information. We've done serious documentaries [in the past], like In the Footsteps of Bin Laden, which did very well in the ratings last year. And why not? It was good, interesting and relevant. People are interested in this particular subject right now because of everything that's happened since 9/11. So there is pressure in the general cable environment to be more tabloid. I think that one thing CNN is committed to is this program, this documentary strand.
TVGuide.com: In the course of reporting this, did people ask you if you believe in God?
Amanpour: They did. I always find it a difficult question. I'm born of a Catholic mother and a Muslim father and I'm married to a Jewish husband. So I have all of God's wonderful shapes in my DNA. It has helped me have an inclusive look at what religion is all about. I instinctively retreat from division. I don't want politics or religion to be a reason for division in my life or in other people's lives. I see so much war, killing and hatred; I can always see why it shouldn't be like that.
Stephen Battaglio
08/15/2007
Christiane Amanpour courtesy CNNCNN chief international correspondent Christiane Amanpour has been reporting from overseas hot spots since 1989, so she knows firsthand about God's Warriors, the subject of her three-part documentary series airing Aug. 21 to 23 at 9 pm/ET. Over six hours, Amanpour dissects the recent history of the fundamentalist elements of three Abrahamic faiths — Judaism, Christianity and Islam — and how they want to transform society to fit their beliefs. The Biz recently talked with Amanpour about her willingness to dig deep into serious issues and go against the tabloid tide that's been pulling at cable news.
TVGuide.com: Cable news has changed a lot over the last 15 years, but you're still able to go out and do serious long-form pieces. Who drives that? Do you have to push to get them done? When we think of cable news, we're not thinking about this kind of material anymore.
Christiane Amanpour: I agree that it has changed an awful lot since Ted Turner created it. I think there is something to be said for CNN that in this completely changed environment we continue to do these kinds of reports. I particularly like doing this, as you can imagine. I'm not the Paris Hilton/Anna Nicole Smith kind of reporter. I really like these meaty issues, because I'm convinced that this is what people want to know about. Everyone who I talk to asks me what I'm working on, and I tell them religion — and they tell me it's something on their minds right now.
TVGuide.com: To make a good documentary, it's said you have to have a strong point of view.
Amanpour: I agree that some kinds of documentaries do require that. This is a documentary in a different sense: It documents the process [by which] extreme Jews, Christians or Muslims try to reshape society into what they think God's image is and according to what they believe God's teachings are. We didn't go out to do "Wackos-R-Us," because a lot of that has been done. We went out to [examine] people who have a particularly extreme vision and what that means to us as a society — how they affect us.
TVGuide.com: But is that tricky to do because we are in this media environment where everyone's reporting is so scrutinized for bias? Are you feeling pressures now that you didn't feel 10 years ago?
Amanpour: I will admit that there is a lot of pressure out there. I just don't happen to feel it. I live abroad and I don't seek out all the blogs and all the verbiage that is out there. Frankly, there would be no time to do anything else, and I'm not that interested in what people are saying about me. It's a lot of people's personal opinions. I've been doing this for a long, long time and I know clearly what my professional mission is and I stick to it.
TVGuide.com: And how do you define that these days?
Amanpour: To do something that I admit is getting to be an endangered species: [to be] a relentless foreign correspondent bringing this kind of real journalism back to people who really want it. The audience still wants information. We've done serious documentaries [in the past], like In the Footsteps of Bin Laden, which did very well in the ratings last year. And why not? It was good, interesting and relevant. People are interested in this particular subject right now because of everything that's happened since 9/11. So there is pressure in the general cable environment to be more tabloid. I think that one thing CNN is committed to is this program, this documentary strand.
TVGuide.com: In the course of reporting this, did people ask you if you believe in God?
Amanpour: They did. I always find it a difficult question. I'm born of a Catholic mother and a Muslim father and I'm married to a Jewish husband. So I have all of God's wonderful shapes in my DNA. It has helped me have an inclusive look at what religion is all about. I instinctively retreat from division. I don't want politics or religion to be a reason for division in my life or in other people's lives. I see so much war, killing and hatred; I can always see why it shouldn't be like that.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Israeli stuck in Iran made friends. Aircraft troubles forced Tehran landing and overnight stay in airport
The Associated Press. 5/7/2007. ( http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18528557/)
JERUSALEM - When Iranian agents boarded an airplane that made an emergency landing in Tehran, the only Israeli passenger on board feared the worst. Instead, he left with a gift of a wooden music box and an invitation to return when times are better.
Israeli scientist Benny Medvedev told Israeli media that he spent several harrowing hours in Tehran over the weekend after the Turkish Airlines flight from Istanbul to India made two emergency landings due to mechanical problems. Israel and Iran are staunch enemies and have no diplomatic relations.
When the crew informed the 123 passengers that the plane was landing the first time on Friday, the terrified Medvedev tried to persuade the pilot to let him stay in the cabin, he told the Yediot Ahronot newspaper.
The pilot refused, and the Israeli sat himself between British tourists with the hope he would not be discovered as the only Israeli on the airplane, he told Yediot. But when the Iranian security boarded the airplane, they walked directly to Medvedev.
'Terrified to death'
"For the first hour I was terrified to death," Medvedev told the daily. "Like everyone else I serve in a (Israeli reserve) combat unit ... I didn't want to get off the airplane but I didn't have a choice."
Medvedev feared that he would be taken away and never heard from again, he said. But the Iranian security men quickly allayed his fears.
"They told me, 'We know you are Israeli but you don't have anything to be worried about. We will help you with anything you need,'" Medvedev said.
Medvedev, a researcher at Israel's Institute for Earth Sciences, was allowed on his laptop to connect to the Internet and send an e-mail to his boss, he said.
Minister kept apprised
His superior immediately contacted Israel's Foreign Ministry, which considered the matter grave enough to inform Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni, Yediot reported. Livni was updated on Medvedev's situation throughout the day and Israel's consulate in Mumbai was also contacted, the daily said.
The passengers were forced to spend the night in the airport's international lounge, the Haaretz newspaper said. Even after the flight was resumed the next day, additional mechanical problems 40 minutes later forced it to return to Iran again, Medvedev told Yediot.
"The security people treated me very well," Medvedev told the Y-Net Web site. "I even received a gift of a wooden music box. They invited me to visit again and I invited them to visit Israel, when there will be peace."
Medvedev's story appeared on the front pages of most of the country's newspapers Sunday. Yediot published photos of him being greeted by Israeli diplomats in Mumbai, along with him wheeling a cart with the wooden box and a duty-free bag from the Tehran airport.
Iranian forces captured 15 British sailors and marines on March 23 as they boarded ships in the Persian Gulf to check for contraband goods. Iran charged them with being in its territorial waters but eventually freed the team.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18528557/
JERUSALEM - When Iranian agents boarded an airplane that made an emergency landing in Tehran, the only Israeli passenger on board feared the worst. Instead, he left with a gift of a wooden music box and an invitation to return when times are better.
Israeli scientist Benny Medvedev told Israeli media that he spent several harrowing hours in Tehran over the weekend after the Turkish Airlines flight from Istanbul to India made two emergency landings due to mechanical problems. Israel and Iran are staunch enemies and have no diplomatic relations.
When the crew informed the 123 passengers that the plane was landing the first time on Friday, the terrified Medvedev tried to persuade the pilot to let him stay in the cabin, he told the Yediot Ahronot newspaper.
The pilot refused, and the Israeli sat himself between British tourists with the hope he would not be discovered as the only Israeli on the airplane, he told Yediot. But when the Iranian security boarded the airplane, they walked directly to Medvedev.
'Terrified to death'
"For the first hour I was terrified to death," Medvedev told the daily. "Like everyone else I serve in a (Israeli reserve) combat unit ... I didn't want to get off the airplane but I didn't have a choice."
Medvedev feared that he would be taken away and never heard from again, he said. But the Iranian security men quickly allayed his fears.
"They told me, 'We know you are Israeli but you don't have anything to be worried about. We will help you with anything you need,'" Medvedev said.
Medvedev, a researcher at Israel's Institute for Earth Sciences, was allowed on his laptop to connect to the Internet and send an e-mail to his boss, he said.
Minister kept apprised
His superior immediately contacted Israel's Foreign Ministry, which considered the matter grave enough to inform Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni, Yediot reported. Livni was updated on Medvedev's situation throughout the day and Israel's consulate in Mumbai was also contacted, the daily said.
The passengers were forced to spend the night in the airport's international lounge, the Haaretz newspaper said. Even after the flight was resumed the next day, additional mechanical problems 40 minutes later forced it to return to Iran again, Medvedev told Yediot.
"The security people treated me very well," Medvedev told the Y-Net Web site. "I even received a gift of a wooden music box. They invited me to visit again and I invited them to visit Israel, when there will be peace."
Medvedev's story appeared on the front pages of most of the country's newspapers Sunday. Yediot published photos of him being greeted by Israeli diplomats in Mumbai, along with him wheeling a cart with the wooden box and a duty-free bag from the Tehran airport.
Iranian forces captured 15 British sailors and marines on March 23 as they boarded ships in the Persian Gulf to check for contraband goods. Iran charged them with being in its territorial waters but eventually freed the team.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18528557/
Friday, July 20, 2007
Love Story: Israeli, Iranian Soccer Mates
Modi Kreitman. Ynet News.com. Accessed July 18, 2007
(http://www.ynetnews.com/Ext/Comp/ArticleLayout/CdaArticlePrintPreview/1,2506,L-3353505,00.html)
In middle of FA Cup soccer match, after Iranian midfielder Andranik Teimourian scores goal for Bolton, he is embraced by Israeli teammate Idan Tal
LONDON - It is an image you can see in almost any soccer match: One of the players scores a goal, and his friends pounce on him with aggressive hugs.
Last week, in a match between the Bolton Wanderers and the Doncaster Rovers, was one real, warm, hard to fake embrace: In the 49th minute, shortly after Iranian midfielder Andranik Teimourian scored Bolton’s fourth goal, he was embraced by none other than Idan Tal, the team’s Israeli midfielder, who scored the team’s third goal a few minutes earlier.
The image of number 16, Teimourian, holding number 23, Tal, quickly became a hit in newspapers and websites all over the world; even the “Persian Football” website proudly reported the historic cooperation between the Iranian and the Israeli. But Idan Tal, one of two Israeli players on the team along with defender Tal Ben Haim, does not understand what the fuss is about.
Idan Tal (Photo: Yoed Cohen)
As far as Tal is concerned, it was just another victory bear hug, and there is no significance to the fact that the other half of this embrace comes from a country which wished his own country gone, or at least gone from the Middle East.
“We don’t discuss the tension between Israel and Iran,” he explained to Yedioth Aharonoth. “Other than hugging, hanging out together and showing the world that people can live and work together, we don’t deal with it. On the team bus we prefer talking about Persian food.”
Kosher meals
There are quite a few points of similarity in the stories of Tal and Teimourian: They are both considered creative and aggressive players, they were both considered big stars in their home countries, and they both joined the small club in this northern town near Liverpool last summer.
The connection between them was instantaneous. “When we were told he was signed, it sounded interesting right away,” explains Tal. “I’ve never known any Iranians. When he came to the club I was already staying at the hotel that is attached to the stadium complex, and before we met he met my wife in the lobby. One of the officials introduced him to my wife and to our children, and they started talking. I met him later. The first thing I told myself was that he doesn’t look Iranian.”
What did you tell him when you embraced after the goal?
“We were laughing. We call him ‘Jesus’ on the team, a nickname the manager gave him when he let his hair grow long and he looked like Jesus, so I said ‘congratulations on the goal, Jesus.’ He’s told me that they follow his career excitedly in Iran. I don’t think they have a problem with him playing with Israelis or having contact with us.”
Teimourian, it should be said, is undoubtedly a deep-seated Iranian. He was born in Tehran 23 years ago, and has been considered as one of the great promises of local soccer for a few years. He became a star in Iran while playing for Abumoslem Khorasan soccer club in the city of Mashhad, the country’s second largest city. The club was sponsored in the past by the Iranian military, which was replaced a few years ago by car maker Iran Khodro.
Teimourian’s meteoric rise to stardom caused him to be called into the Iran national squad at an unusually young age. His first international game, incidentally, was against another one of Israel’s “lovers”, Libya.
His success was not obvious: Teimourian is the first Christian player to play for the national team since the Khomeini revolution. When he crossed himself according to Christian custom before an international game, many viewers stared in disbelief. But Teimourian was able to become a part of the national squad, and is now considered the pride of the Armenian community, which has about 200,000 in Iran.
His two goals in Saturday’s FA cup game were his first two goals in England. “He told me that his family called him from Iran,” Tal recalls. “His fiancée still lives in Iran because she is a school teacher, and he said she was crying with joy. I told him a picture of us hugging was published in Israel, and he thought that was very nice. He’s not really into what’s going on between the two countries. It is serious business, but it’s not something we deal with or should deal with.
“We’re good friends off pitch as well. We talk a lot, sometimes we go out together. He told me a lot about Iran’s World Cup games. He’s living here alone, with no family, but he has a few Iranian friends who have lived in the area many years, and they were also very nice to me when I met them.
"I had no opinion about the Iranians other than what I read in the papers, but now I know they are very nice. This is the beauty of Bolton, what makes it different from other Premier League teams: there are so many foreign players here, and we all get along without politics. Tal Ben Haim and I, for example, get kosher meals at the club, and a Muslim from Abu Dhabi who plays for the team gets meat from a Muslim butcher, so everyone is satisfied.”
What does he tell you about Iran?
He tells me more about the country in the family sense: His life there, his family, his fiancée. It was very interesting to hear about daily life there because we normally only hear about the politics. I told him, for example, about Jerusalem, the city where I was born. He was very interested and I told him that if he came to visit I would personally take care of him.”
And if he invites you?
“First of all, Persian food is excellent. So if Andranik invites me to Iran I will be happy, but I don’t think that will happen in the near future.”
Would you agree to participate along with him in a campaign to improve Israeli-Iranian relations?
“Sure. I think he would be willing to pitch in as well. We haven’t talked about it, but I’m sure that if it does something for the good of the relations between the countries, even something small, then why not?”
(http://www.ynetnews.com/Ext/Comp/ArticleLayout/CdaArticlePrintPreview/1,2506,L-3353505,00.html)
In middle of FA Cup soccer match, after Iranian midfielder Andranik Teimourian scores goal for Bolton, he is embraced by Israeli teammate Idan Tal
LONDON - It is an image you can see in almost any soccer match: One of the players scores a goal, and his friends pounce on him with aggressive hugs.
Last week, in a match between the Bolton Wanderers and the Doncaster Rovers, was one real, warm, hard to fake embrace: In the 49th minute, shortly after Iranian midfielder Andranik Teimourian scored Bolton’s fourth goal, he was embraced by none other than Idan Tal, the team’s Israeli midfielder, who scored the team’s third goal a few minutes earlier.
The image of number 16, Teimourian, holding number 23, Tal, quickly became a hit in newspapers and websites all over the world; even the “Persian Football” website proudly reported the historic cooperation between the Iranian and the Israeli. But Idan Tal, one of two Israeli players on the team along with defender Tal Ben Haim, does not understand what the fuss is about.
Idan Tal (Photo: Yoed Cohen)
As far as Tal is concerned, it was just another victory bear hug, and there is no significance to the fact that the other half of this embrace comes from a country which wished his own country gone, or at least gone from the Middle East.
“We don’t discuss the tension between Israel and Iran,” he explained to Yedioth Aharonoth. “Other than hugging, hanging out together and showing the world that people can live and work together, we don’t deal with it. On the team bus we prefer talking about Persian food.”
Kosher meals
There are quite a few points of similarity in the stories of Tal and Teimourian: They are both considered creative and aggressive players, they were both considered big stars in their home countries, and they both joined the small club in this northern town near Liverpool last summer.
The connection between them was instantaneous. “When we were told he was signed, it sounded interesting right away,” explains Tal. “I’ve never known any Iranians. When he came to the club I was already staying at the hotel that is attached to the stadium complex, and before we met he met my wife in the lobby. One of the officials introduced him to my wife and to our children, and they started talking. I met him later. The first thing I told myself was that he doesn’t look Iranian.”
What did you tell him when you embraced after the goal?
“We were laughing. We call him ‘Jesus’ on the team, a nickname the manager gave him when he let his hair grow long and he looked like Jesus, so I said ‘congratulations on the goal, Jesus.’ He’s told me that they follow his career excitedly in Iran. I don’t think they have a problem with him playing with Israelis or having contact with us.”
Teimourian, it should be said, is undoubtedly a deep-seated Iranian. He was born in Tehran 23 years ago, and has been considered as one of the great promises of local soccer for a few years. He became a star in Iran while playing for Abumoslem Khorasan soccer club in the city of Mashhad, the country’s second largest city. The club was sponsored in the past by the Iranian military, which was replaced a few years ago by car maker Iran Khodro.
Teimourian’s meteoric rise to stardom caused him to be called into the Iran national squad at an unusually young age. His first international game, incidentally, was against another one of Israel’s “lovers”, Libya.
His success was not obvious: Teimourian is the first Christian player to play for the national team since the Khomeini revolution. When he crossed himself according to Christian custom before an international game, many viewers stared in disbelief. But Teimourian was able to become a part of the national squad, and is now considered the pride of the Armenian community, which has about 200,000 in Iran.
His two goals in Saturday’s FA cup game were his first two goals in England. “He told me that his family called him from Iran,” Tal recalls. “His fiancée still lives in Iran because she is a school teacher, and he said she was crying with joy. I told him a picture of us hugging was published in Israel, and he thought that was very nice. He’s not really into what’s going on between the two countries. It is serious business, but it’s not something we deal with or should deal with.
“We’re good friends off pitch as well. We talk a lot, sometimes we go out together. He told me a lot about Iran’s World Cup games. He’s living here alone, with no family, but he has a few Iranian friends who have lived in the area many years, and they were also very nice to me when I met them.
"I had no opinion about the Iranians other than what I read in the papers, but now I know they are very nice. This is the beauty of Bolton, what makes it different from other Premier League teams: there are so many foreign players here, and we all get along without politics. Tal Ben Haim and I, for example, get kosher meals at the club, and a Muslim from Abu Dhabi who plays for the team gets meat from a Muslim butcher, so everyone is satisfied.”
What does he tell you about Iran?
He tells me more about the country in the family sense: His life there, his family, his fiancée. It was very interesting to hear about daily life there because we normally only hear about the politics. I told him, for example, about Jerusalem, the city where I was born. He was very interested and I told him that if he came to visit I would personally take care of him.”
And if he invites you?
“First of all, Persian food is excellent. So if Andranik invites me to Iran I will be happy, but I don’t think that will happen in the near future.”
Would you agree to participate along with him in a campaign to improve Israeli-Iranian relations?
“Sure. I think he would be willing to pitch in as well. We haven’t talked about it, but I’m sure that if it does something for the good of the relations between the countries, even something small, then why not?”
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Growing Up As A Minority. We Were Of Moslem, Jewish and Bahai Families But We Were All Iranians
A.s. Mostafanejad
Iranian.com
05/16/2006
http://www.iranian.com/Mostafanejad/2006/May/Minority/index.html
When I was a child in Tehran my father was the only Bahai in his family. His father had been a Bahai and had passed away prior to my birth and his mother was a Moslem. On my mother's side her mother was a Bahai but her father was a Moslem. My upbringing was as a Bahai but my relatives were of both faiths. We associated with all as any family would.
We lived in an apartment at the end of a narrow koocheh, or lane. Above us lived a Jewish family and across the lane there was a Christian family of Armenian descent. The rest of those in our lane were Moslems and we all rented from a Haji we used to call “Haji Esfahani”. We all got along and we were all on friendly terms. The old Haji would sometimes drop by for tea and oranges. He had a unique way of eating his oranges by not peeling them but just quartering the whole orange and savoring each segment. We kids would ask our mother to cut up our oranges “Haji style” as a treat.
When we moved to England in 1959 there were not many Iranians in our city but the few of us, Bahai and Moslem, would visit each other frequently sharing meals and the kids going out to the cinema or the clubs together. We did not get into political or religious debates and if a question was asked about either it would be answered as a matter of fact.
I moved to the United States in 1967 at the age of nineteen and to a community college in a small town in Northern California. When I asked my uncle who had sponsored me as to why he had picked that town he stated that was where he had first arrived from Iran in 1949 and he thought it was a place conducive to quiet study.
He was correct about the quiet study. There was nothing for the young in that town except one cinema and a couple of soda fountains and restaurants. I was enormously gratified to discover the other twenty or so Iranian students in that small college in my first week of attendance. Most of us grew to like each other's company and I still keep tabs on a couple. We were all a minority in that town and we soon learned that as a minority we were highly visible and subject to stereotyping. If there was an incident involving any Iranian we were all painted with the same brush. We each had our religious beliefs and political viewpoints but we shared an identity; a small minority in a small town.
There were a few of the Iranians and other foreign students who lived on the edge so to speak. They either developed a reputation for wild parties or got caught with marijuana and other substances or had a physical altercation in the parking lot. Once the little local newspaper had printed the story or the rumor mill had fed the news to the campus as well as the larger community we all felt the sting of the looks and the comments. We were all Iranians, a minority, and we all got branded together. On as well as off campus we were each other's support and compatriot. We were of Moslem, Jewish and Bahai families but we were all Iranians.
In the evenings we helped each other with the course materials and the language obstacles. On the weekends we all shared rides to the big city of San Francisco to find work to augment the finances from back home. We tipped each other off about job openings and shared rooms or apartments in order to get by. Lacking entertainment locally we entertained ourselves with potluck dinners of Persian food and music as well as moonlight rides through the hills in a couple of cars. We had occasional weekend picnics by the lake eating cotlet, kookoo and watermelon and playing backgammon. We dated, danced, ate, joked all without regard to religious origin or belief. We were simply a small minority community of Iranians.
Yesterday I was at the funeral of the sister of a friend. She had left Iran and the small town she had lived in all her life. She was forced out because she was a Bahai. She had left her friends and community and hop scotched her way across the world to finally end up in California. Those who knew her would say that she constantly talked about the beauty of her little town, the taste of the food, the fruit, the style of poetry, etc. The last few years of her life she had finally succumbed to Alzheimer's and old age. She had chosen to use the brain and the heart God had granted her to believe otherwise. She had suffered estrangement because she was a minority.
All around her grave site, I noticed, were the graves of other Iranians of all ages and all faiths. All shared the same plot of land in their final rest. Some had headstones inscribed solely in Farsi and some in the language of their origin as well as their adopted land. In my mind they all seemed equal in that corner of the cemetery. In my mind there was no majority or minority here and all differences were made meaningless. Looking out across the rest of the cemetery and to the community beyond I could not help but think that we are all human with equal rights to be respected and treated as such; human.
Iranian.com
05/16/2006
http://www.iranian.com/Mostafanejad/2006/May/Minority/index.html
When I was a child in Tehran my father was the only Bahai in his family. His father had been a Bahai and had passed away prior to my birth and his mother was a Moslem. On my mother's side her mother was a Bahai but her father was a Moslem. My upbringing was as a Bahai but my relatives were of both faiths. We associated with all as any family would.
We lived in an apartment at the end of a narrow koocheh, or lane. Above us lived a Jewish family and across the lane there was a Christian family of Armenian descent. The rest of those in our lane were Moslems and we all rented from a Haji we used to call “Haji Esfahani”. We all got along and we were all on friendly terms. The old Haji would sometimes drop by for tea and oranges. He had a unique way of eating his oranges by not peeling them but just quartering the whole orange and savoring each segment. We kids would ask our mother to cut up our oranges “Haji style” as a treat.
When we moved to England in 1959 there were not many Iranians in our city but the few of us, Bahai and Moslem, would visit each other frequently sharing meals and the kids going out to the cinema or the clubs together. We did not get into political or religious debates and if a question was asked about either it would be answered as a matter of fact.
I moved to the United States in 1967 at the age of nineteen and to a community college in a small town in Northern California. When I asked my uncle who had sponsored me as to why he had picked that town he stated that was where he had first arrived from Iran in 1949 and he thought it was a place conducive to quiet study.
He was correct about the quiet study. There was nothing for the young in that town except one cinema and a couple of soda fountains and restaurants. I was enormously gratified to discover the other twenty or so Iranian students in that small college in my first week of attendance. Most of us grew to like each other's company and I still keep tabs on a couple. We were all a minority in that town and we soon learned that as a minority we were highly visible and subject to stereotyping. If there was an incident involving any Iranian we were all painted with the same brush. We each had our religious beliefs and political viewpoints but we shared an identity; a small minority in a small town.
There were a few of the Iranians and other foreign students who lived on the edge so to speak. They either developed a reputation for wild parties or got caught with marijuana and other substances or had a physical altercation in the parking lot. Once the little local newspaper had printed the story or the rumor mill had fed the news to the campus as well as the larger community we all felt the sting of the looks and the comments. We were all Iranians, a minority, and we all got branded together. On as well as off campus we were each other's support and compatriot. We were of Moslem, Jewish and Bahai families but we were all Iranians.
In the evenings we helped each other with the course materials and the language obstacles. On the weekends we all shared rides to the big city of San Francisco to find work to augment the finances from back home. We tipped each other off about job openings and shared rooms or apartments in order to get by. Lacking entertainment locally we entertained ourselves with potluck dinners of Persian food and music as well as moonlight rides through the hills in a couple of cars. We had occasional weekend picnics by the lake eating cotlet, kookoo and watermelon and playing backgammon. We dated, danced, ate, joked all without regard to religious origin or belief. We were simply a small minority community of Iranians.
Yesterday I was at the funeral of the sister of a friend. She had left Iran and the small town she had lived in all her life. She was forced out because she was a Bahai. She had left her friends and community and hop scotched her way across the world to finally end up in California. Those who knew her would say that she constantly talked about the beauty of her little town, the taste of the food, the fruit, the style of poetry, etc. The last few years of her life she had finally succumbed to Alzheimer's and old age. She had chosen to use the brain and the heart God had granted her to believe otherwise. She had suffered estrangement because she was a minority.
All around her grave site, I noticed, were the graves of other Iranians of all ages and all faiths. All shared the same plot of land in their final rest. Some had headstones inscribed solely in Farsi and some in the language of their origin as well as their adopted land. In my mind they all seemed equal in that corner of the cemetery. In my mind there was no majority or minority here and all differences were made meaningless. Looking out across the rest of the cemetery and to the community beyond I could not help but think that we are all human with equal rights to be respected and treated as such; human.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Born Without A Name
Interfaithfamily.com. Growing Up in an Interfaith Family
Issue 212: July 10, 2007
(http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297382&ct=4063597&tr=y&auid=2826038)
Tiffany Collins
In 1976, I was born without a name. I continued to be nameless for two weeks because my parents could not agree on one. At the time they may not have understood the source of their problems, but today, I know with certainty that it was due to their cultural differences. They finally agreed on the name Tiffany, which they chose in reference to a friend's daughter. I've never really felt like a Tiffany. As the child of an Ashkenazi (of Eastern European origin) Israeli Jew and Iranian non-practicing Shi'a Muslim, I never quite felt my name reflected my spirit.
Prior to my birth, my parents decided that I would be raised Jewish. I often consider myself lucky that my mother is Jewish and my father Muslim. This combination automatically gave me the choice of being either of these religions: in Orthodox and Conservative circles of Judaism the religion is inherited through the mother, and in Islam, through the father. Nevertheless, I was thankful my parents chose my religion for me. I was Jewish. It kept things clear.
Yes, I have suffered ignorance and pettiness by those people who can't understand how my parents could marry out of their faith. But, truly, more difficult than the religious difference has been the socio-political divide between Israelis and Iranians. In a world where politics has become infused with religion, choosing "a side" almost feels like an issue of safety--as if a hypothetical voice would whisper to me when I was alone, If a war breaks out between Jews and Muslims, whose side would you stand with?
I did not grow up in a religious home. To my parents, who met and fell in love in the liberal and exploratory university environment of California in the '70s, traditions had more merit than religion. My parents, both quite independent in nature and enjoying their cultural similarities, never really pondered how more conservative members of their individual faiths might view their union.
My fondest childhood memories paint a picture of my double life.
My favorite Jewish moments came from Shabbat (Sabbath) songs at Jewish summer camps and annual trips to Israel to see my extended family, which spoke Hebrew, Yiddish and Russian, and ate borscht! Those who could, spoke to me in English. Those who couldn't, spoke to me in Hebrew and Yiddish. To me, Judaism was Mediterranean beaches, Passover singing, and everyone treating me like family.
My favorite Persian moments were weekends at my paternal grandmother's house in the United States, where we would savor saffron-infused rice, potato taddik (fried rice and potato crust) and kabobs. Islam was warm kitchens, people dancing and singing to Middle Eastern music, polite social gestures, family respect for hierarchies and colorful holidays. At these gatherings everyone would speak to me in Farsi, and say hello with cheek-to-cheek kisses.
But as I aged, the hidden religious symbols became more evident.
My father and his immediate community in the San Francisco Bay Area came from a pre-revolutionary Iran where culture took precedence over religion. In 1979, this community's identity was transformed by the Islamic Revolution. The transformation of their country from a seemingly secular state to a religiously orthodox one left them feeling stateless. I, too, took on the identity of a refugee; this model world that they were raising me in, in which being both Persian and Jewish was safe and accepted, no longer existed, if it ever had. There was no Iran to which I could go back as a part-Israeli Jew to find my roots.
As I got older, my religious identity became more confusing. Moments like when my Persian grandmother would bless me with her Koran as she sent me off to a trip to Israel come to mind. My religious identity came under the greatest scrutiny when my parents divorced when I was 9. No longer bound by the compromises of interfaith marriage, my parents naturally migrated back toward their origins. My father, especially, became more and more attracted to his homeland. He began taking me to Persian concerts, speaking to me in Farsi and courting a Persian woman. Hitting my teenage years, insecurities due to not fitting the standard religious mold took their toll.
At 15, I made a radical decision that would change my life. After spending the summer with my family and friends in Israel, I announced to my parents that I absolutely had to live in Israel. Looking back, it's quite obvious to me that my decision was based on an extreme thirst to connect with an identity, and I had been given a Jewish one. I went to a French boarding school in Jerusalem where most of the students were of Sephardic (descendents of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews) origin and from more Orthodox branches of Judaism. The nationally mandated Zionist curriculum infused our day-to-day experiences. The following three years in that boarding school were a time of religious awakening for me. I became immersed in Jewish life. I felt at home among the Sephardic Jews. Their culture brought together elements of my Jewish and Persian cultures more than the traditional Ashkenazi culture I had become accustomed to in the U.S.
The only problem was that I didn't want anyone in the school to know I was different. My strategy of pretending to be just like everyone else came to a crossroads in my second year in that school (eleventh grade), when my father decided to move back to Iran to settle old family financial matters. How could I explain having a father who lives in Iran to my Jewish friends in Israel? I ended up sharing this information with only my closest friends, who took it quite well. But of course, I lived in Israel in the early '90s when the hope for peace in the region was still quite alive.
I wondered how I could talk to my father about such things as wanting to join the army to serve the Jewish homeland. In Israel, everyone goes into the army when they turn 18. It's not a political statement; it's an expected step on the way to adulthood. It turned out that my father preferred not to discuss such matters. He felt that just mentioning the topic could be dangerous to him within the Persian community and Iran. At the time my feelings were hurt as I felt he was embarrassed by his Jewish daughter. Now, with a more mature understanding of the politics of the Iranian regime, I understand that his concerns were legitimately connected to his personal safety. Also upsetting was the fact that I could never visit my father in Iran given my Israeli connections. In those years of living in Israel, I became quite religious. Somewhere deep inside, I felt a need to know as much as possible to compensate for not having a Jewish father.
After five years in Israel, I decided to come back to the U.S. Attending university enabled me to gain the maturity and cognitive skills necessary to create my own identity. I re-connected with my Persian side after years of pretending to be a purebred in Israel. I realized that being Jewish and practicing Jewish traditions were my birthright and no one could take that away from me. The ability to combine my newfound analytical skills with my solid knowledge of Judaism gave me a great sense of empowerment, enabling me to create my own personal religious practices and cultural traditions.
The day I finally felt liberated was my wedding day. I hand-picked every tradition, color, and rite that was to carry me into my future life. I chose a ketubah (Jewish wedding contract) with a Persian design created by a local artist. I held two weddings, a secular Persian one with religious symbols, at which my aspiring-actor cousin married us against a backdrop of Persian wedding motifs, sweets and festivities; and a Jewish one that had everything from Israeli live music to a chuppah (Jewish wedding canopy) held by my best friends.
I did not marry a Jewish man. My husband is part-Japanese Buddhist, part-American Baptist--a hybrid, just like me. We've had many cultural elements to subsume into our life as a couple, yet our respect for multiculturalism has prevailed. Before marrying, my husband asked me if he should convert to Judaism. I said no, because I felt that this is something that he should want to do for himself, not just to satisfy me. I did tell him, though, that I would need his consent to raise our children as Jews.
We now have a beautiful little boy named Raphael who has been circumcised. He's learning French, Hebrew, Farsi and Japanese. We take a Shabbat class together at the Jewish community center. My husband and son have both been to Israel. While we're not your typical Jewish family, we are Jewish nonetheless. The last time my husband flew back from Israel, separately from me, the security guards on the flight asked him if he was Jewish. He said, "Yes, by marriage." The guard responded, "That's not exactly the same, is it?"
Being Jewish and multicultural is not always easy. Not everyone accepts our way. I've had close friends from high school lecture my husband on how he must convert. But ultimately, that's not my immediate community or the people I seek to learn from. In creating my own traditions, I have combined the histories and stories of Persians and Jews to give richness to my life--discovering how to learn from the practices of others and adapt them as my own.
Issue 212: July 10, 2007
(http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297382&ct=4063597&tr=y&auid=2826038)
Tiffany Collins
In 1976, I was born without a name. I continued to be nameless for two weeks because my parents could not agree on one. At the time they may not have understood the source of their problems, but today, I know with certainty that it was due to their cultural differences. They finally agreed on the name Tiffany, which they chose in reference to a friend's daughter. I've never really felt like a Tiffany. As the child of an Ashkenazi (of Eastern European origin) Israeli Jew and Iranian non-practicing Shi'a Muslim, I never quite felt my name reflected my spirit.
Prior to my birth, my parents decided that I would be raised Jewish. I often consider myself lucky that my mother is Jewish and my father Muslim. This combination automatically gave me the choice of being either of these religions: in Orthodox and Conservative circles of Judaism the religion is inherited through the mother, and in Islam, through the father. Nevertheless, I was thankful my parents chose my religion for me. I was Jewish. It kept things clear.
Yes, I have suffered ignorance and pettiness by those people who can't understand how my parents could marry out of their faith. But, truly, more difficult than the religious difference has been the socio-political divide between Israelis and Iranians. In a world where politics has become infused with religion, choosing "a side" almost feels like an issue of safety--as if a hypothetical voice would whisper to me when I was alone, If a war breaks out between Jews and Muslims, whose side would you stand with?
I did not grow up in a religious home. To my parents, who met and fell in love in the liberal and exploratory university environment of California in the '70s, traditions had more merit than religion. My parents, both quite independent in nature and enjoying their cultural similarities, never really pondered how more conservative members of their individual faiths might view their union.
My fondest childhood memories paint a picture of my double life.
My favorite Jewish moments came from Shabbat (Sabbath) songs at Jewish summer camps and annual trips to Israel to see my extended family, which spoke Hebrew, Yiddish and Russian, and ate borscht! Those who could, spoke to me in English. Those who couldn't, spoke to me in Hebrew and Yiddish. To me, Judaism was Mediterranean beaches, Passover singing, and everyone treating me like family.
My favorite Persian moments were weekends at my paternal grandmother's house in the United States, where we would savor saffron-infused rice, potato taddik (fried rice and potato crust) and kabobs. Islam was warm kitchens, people dancing and singing to Middle Eastern music, polite social gestures, family respect for hierarchies and colorful holidays. At these gatherings everyone would speak to me in Farsi, and say hello with cheek-to-cheek kisses.
But as I aged, the hidden religious symbols became more evident.
My father and his immediate community in the San Francisco Bay Area came from a pre-revolutionary Iran where culture took precedence over religion. In 1979, this community's identity was transformed by the Islamic Revolution. The transformation of their country from a seemingly secular state to a religiously orthodox one left them feeling stateless. I, too, took on the identity of a refugee; this model world that they were raising me in, in which being both Persian and Jewish was safe and accepted, no longer existed, if it ever had. There was no Iran to which I could go back as a part-Israeli Jew to find my roots.
As I got older, my religious identity became more confusing. Moments like when my Persian grandmother would bless me with her Koran as she sent me off to a trip to Israel come to mind. My religious identity came under the greatest scrutiny when my parents divorced when I was 9. No longer bound by the compromises of interfaith marriage, my parents naturally migrated back toward their origins. My father, especially, became more and more attracted to his homeland. He began taking me to Persian concerts, speaking to me in Farsi and courting a Persian woman. Hitting my teenage years, insecurities due to not fitting the standard religious mold took their toll.
At 15, I made a radical decision that would change my life. After spending the summer with my family and friends in Israel, I announced to my parents that I absolutely had to live in Israel. Looking back, it's quite obvious to me that my decision was based on an extreme thirst to connect with an identity, and I had been given a Jewish one. I went to a French boarding school in Jerusalem where most of the students were of Sephardic (descendents of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews) origin and from more Orthodox branches of Judaism. The nationally mandated Zionist curriculum infused our day-to-day experiences. The following three years in that boarding school were a time of religious awakening for me. I became immersed in Jewish life. I felt at home among the Sephardic Jews. Their culture brought together elements of my Jewish and Persian cultures more than the traditional Ashkenazi culture I had become accustomed to in the U.S.
The only problem was that I didn't want anyone in the school to know I was different. My strategy of pretending to be just like everyone else came to a crossroads in my second year in that school (eleventh grade), when my father decided to move back to Iran to settle old family financial matters. How could I explain having a father who lives in Iran to my Jewish friends in Israel? I ended up sharing this information with only my closest friends, who took it quite well. But of course, I lived in Israel in the early '90s when the hope for peace in the region was still quite alive.
I wondered how I could talk to my father about such things as wanting to join the army to serve the Jewish homeland. In Israel, everyone goes into the army when they turn 18. It's not a political statement; it's an expected step on the way to adulthood. It turned out that my father preferred not to discuss such matters. He felt that just mentioning the topic could be dangerous to him within the Persian community and Iran. At the time my feelings were hurt as I felt he was embarrassed by his Jewish daughter. Now, with a more mature understanding of the politics of the Iranian regime, I understand that his concerns were legitimately connected to his personal safety. Also upsetting was the fact that I could never visit my father in Iran given my Israeli connections. In those years of living in Israel, I became quite religious. Somewhere deep inside, I felt a need to know as much as possible to compensate for not having a Jewish father.
After five years in Israel, I decided to come back to the U.S. Attending university enabled me to gain the maturity and cognitive skills necessary to create my own identity. I re-connected with my Persian side after years of pretending to be a purebred in Israel. I realized that being Jewish and practicing Jewish traditions were my birthright and no one could take that away from me. The ability to combine my newfound analytical skills with my solid knowledge of Judaism gave me a great sense of empowerment, enabling me to create my own personal religious practices and cultural traditions.
The day I finally felt liberated was my wedding day. I hand-picked every tradition, color, and rite that was to carry me into my future life. I chose a ketubah (Jewish wedding contract) with a Persian design created by a local artist. I held two weddings, a secular Persian one with religious symbols, at which my aspiring-actor cousin married us against a backdrop of Persian wedding motifs, sweets and festivities; and a Jewish one that had everything from Israeli live music to a chuppah (Jewish wedding canopy) held by my best friends.
I did not marry a Jewish man. My husband is part-Japanese Buddhist, part-American Baptist--a hybrid, just like me. We've had many cultural elements to subsume into our life as a couple, yet our respect for multiculturalism has prevailed. Before marrying, my husband asked me if he should convert to Judaism. I said no, because I felt that this is something that he should want to do for himself, not just to satisfy me. I did tell him, though, that I would need his consent to raise our children as Jews.
We now have a beautiful little boy named Raphael who has been circumcised. He's learning French, Hebrew, Farsi and Japanese. We take a Shabbat class together at the Jewish community center. My husband and son have both been to Israel. While we're not your typical Jewish family, we are Jewish nonetheless. The last time my husband flew back from Israel, separately from me, the security guards on the flight asked him if he was Jewish. He said, "Yes, by marriage." The guard responded, "That's not exactly the same, is it?"
Being Jewish and multicultural is not always easy. Not everyone accepts our way. I've had close friends from high school lecture my husband on how he must convert. But ultimately, that's not my immediate community or the people I seek to learn from. In creating my own traditions, I have combined the histories and stories of Persians and Jews to give richness to my life--discovering how to learn from the practices of others and adapt them as my own.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Mom, They're Staring at You
Jackie Levin. Sep 15 2006 (http://cornellsun.com/node/18292). Accessed May 17, 2007.
“There’s something I’d like to get off my chest here because it’s been a real crowd-pleaser these days. [pause] I’m Iranian ... and Jewish! Now, I know what you’re all thinking: ‘Should I hate him ... or hate him?’” — comedian Dan Ahdoot.
Like the very funny Mr. Ahdoot, I, too, am an Iranian Jew. Given the current state of global affairs, I realize this combination sounds about as likely as Tom Cruise’s return to Earth or Mel Gibson advocating Zionism, but alas, it is true. There are all of about, say, six of us in the world — but we do exist.
Being an Iranian Jew is a difficult situation to be in, mainly because of all the internal conflicts that arise from it. For instance, should I enrich uranium or my wallet? Rice or couscous? Turban or yarmulke? But the toughest part of being an Iranian Jew isn’t so much hating yourself as it is surviving as the first generation child of Iranian Jewish parents — or F.O.B.s, as I more affectionately like to call them. [If you are unfamiliar with the term, an F.O.B. is someone who is “Fresh Off the Boat” — an immigrant, to be precise.] Talk about a double-whammy. My parents are Jewish ... and Middle Eastern! If you take your most overprotective Jewish mother and times her by a thousand, you might begin to have an idea of what I’m talking about here.
I have friends from countries like ... England ... who try to convince me they are the children of F.O.B.s. I tell them that being an F.O.B.-child in America is much like being a war veteran — it’s traumatic, disquieting and disturbing on all levels —and not something that can just be arbitrarily claimed. It is a title which must be earned. If your parents can speak clear, unaccented English, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s. If your parents know who Jimi Hendrix is, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s. And if your mother was a member of the PTA, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s.
But just in case there is still any confusion, I have come up with a guide in determining whether or not you are the child of F.O.B.s.
You know you are a F.O.B.-child if ...
... if your parents always let you do whatever you wanted in high school ... as long as you were doing it with other kids of your ethnic group.
“Vhat? You are coming home at te-ree AM? You are heetch-hiking vit some te-ruck derivers? Dey are offering you co-cane? ... Ohh, ohh, ohkay. As long as Fariba’s parents said ees okay, too. See you later, darleeng.”
... if your mother never liked that one white friend of yours who insisted on calling her by her first name.
“Hi Parveen! I love your new hairdo. What’s new??” “No-teeng, Brittany. Um, vhat a nice, um, tattoo you have.”
...if your parents never drove you to school.
“In EE-ron, I had to valk tventy-four keelometers on hot sand to get to es-chool! Vhat is dees ‘car-pool’?? Did Brittany teach you dees!? You valk!”
...if your parents don’t have a clue about modern technology and/or the internet.
“Ask Goo-gel if he has Prada dress in size nine!” “Ask Vikipedia how much sugar for baklava.” “I pressed the es-pace bar! Vhy com-pu-ter no turn on?”
... if, as a girl, your dad threatens to beat you for dating, yet slips your older brother twenties for strip clubs.
“Young lady, you date vhen you are married!” “Es-steven, get von vit big be-reasts.”
...if your parents talk loudly and indiscriminately about other people in public places, not caring and/or realizing if they are overheard.
“Ja-kee, your mo-ther says dat girl looks like vhite te-rash! And she theenks her Cha-nel bag is fake! Vhat you theenk?”
... if your parents misuse common phrases in horrifying ways, and almost always in conversation with your friends.
“Alex, you look so built up! Have you been leef-teeng irons? I can see you vere pumping it out!”
...if your dad only values math and science classes.
... if your house smells like Sangam at dinner time.
... if your mom decks out in designer clothing and furs on a ten minute jaunt to the supermarket “just in case” she runs into other members of your ethnic community.
... if you told your friends your dad was related to Saddam. Not to be funny, but because it might be true.
... if your friends believed you.
... if your mom has tried using coupons at the Dollar Tree.
... if your parents answer your private cellular phone as though it were a main house line.
... if your mom would be just as happy if you got your MRS. as she would be if you got your M.D. or phD.
... if family reunions resemble Al-Qaeda gatherings.
... if everything is compared to how it was in the “mother country.”
... if your parents love America, but hate everyone here.
If you have personally experienced any of these particular traumas, or worse, Congratulations: you probably are the child of F.O.B.s!
So the next time your mother tries to haggle at The Gap or your father declares any male friend of yours with an earring “gay,” and you’re left sitting there fantasizing about different ways to die, just remember: being a F.O.B.-child is not without its advantages. Chances are you’re multi-lingual, which is very cool, and you probably get to travel to different countries to visit relatives who are still O.B. (On the Boat). And, best of all, if you’re lucky, your culture probably comes along with some pretty decent food.
So cheer up! Things could have been a lot worse.
We could have been Canadian.
Jackie Levin is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at jl482@cornell.edu. Everything In Its Right Place appears alternate Fridays.
“There’s something I’d like to get off my chest here because it’s been a real crowd-pleaser these days. [pause] I’m Iranian ... and Jewish! Now, I know what you’re all thinking: ‘Should I hate him ... or hate him?’” — comedian Dan Ahdoot.
Like the very funny Mr. Ahdoot, I, too, am an Iranian Jew. Given the current state of global affairs, I realize this combination sounds about as likely as Tom Cruise’s return to Earth or Mel Gibson advocating Zionism, but alas, it is true. There are all of about, say, six of us in the world — but we do exist.
Being an Iranian Jew is a difficult situation to be in, mainly because of all the internal conflicts that arise from it. For instance, should I enrich uranium or my wallet? Rice or couscous? Turban or yarmulke? But the toughest part of being an Iranian Jew isn’t so much hating yourself as it is surviving as the first generation child of Iranian Jewish parents — or F.O.B.s, as I more affectionately like to call them. [If you are unfamiliar with the term, an F.O.B. is someone who is “Fresh Off the Boat” — an immigrant, to be precise.] Talk about a double-whammy. My parents are Jewish ... and Middle Eastern! If you take your most overprotective Jewish mother and times her by a thousand, you might begin to have an idea of what I’m talking about here.
I have friends from countries like ... England ... who try to convince me they are the children of F.O.B.s. I tell them that being an F.O.B.-child in America is much like being a war veteran — it’s traumatic, disquieting and disturbing on all levels —and not something that can just be arbitrarily claimed. It is a title which must be earned. If your parents can speak clear, unaccented English, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s. If your parents know who Jimi Hendrix is, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s. And if your mother was a member of the PTA, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s.
But just in case there is still any confusion, I have come up with a guide in determining whether or not you are the child of F.O.B.s.
You know you are a F.O.B.-child if ...
... if your parents always let you do whatever you wanted in high school ... as long as you were doing it with other kids of your ethnic group.
“Vhat? You are coming home at te-ree AM? You are heetch-hiking vit some te-ruck derivers? Dey are offering you co-cane? ... Ohh, ohh, ohkay. As long as Fariba’s parents said ees okay, too. See you later, darleeng.”
... if your mother never liked that one white friend of yours who insisted on calling her by her first name.
“Hi Parveen! I love your new hairdo. What’s new??” “No-teeng, Brittany. Um, vhat a nice, um, tattoo you have.”
...if your parents never drove you to school.
“In EE-ron, I had to valk tventy-four keelometers on hot sand to get to es-chool! Vhat is dees ‘car-pool’?? Did Brittany teach you dees!? You valk!”
...if your parents don’t have a clue about modern technology and/or the internet.
“Ask Goo-gel if he has Prada dress in size nine!” “Ask Vikipedia how much sugar for baklava.” “I pressed the es-pace bar! Vhy com-pu-ter no turn on?”
... if, as a girl, your dad threatens to beat you for dating, yet slips your older brother twenties for strip clubs.
“Young lady, you date vhen you are married!” “Es-steven, get von vit big be-reasts.”
...if your parents talk loudly and indiscriminately about other people in public places, not caring and/or realizing if they are overheard.
“Ja-kee, your mo-ther says dat girl looks like vhite te-rash! And she theenks her Cha-nel bag is fake! Vhat you theenk?”
... if your parents misuse common phrases in horrifying ways, and almost always in conversation with your friends.
“Alex, you look so built up! Have you been leef-teeng irons? I can see you vere pumping it out!”
...if your dad only values math and science classes.
... if your house smells like Sangam at dinner time.
... if your mom decks out in designer clothing and furs on a ten minute jaunt to the supermarket “just in case” she runs into other members of your ethnic community.
... if you told your friends your dad was related to Saddam. Not to be funny, but because it might be true.
... if your friends believed you.
... if your mom has tried using coupons at the Dollar Tree.
... if your parents answer your private cellular phone as though it were a main house line.
... if your mom would be just as happy if you got your MRS. as she would be if you got your M.D. or phD.
... if family reunions resemble Al-Qaeda gatherings.
... if everything is compared to how it was in the “mother country.”
... if your parents love America, but hate everyone here.
If you have personally experienced any of these particular traumas, or worse, Congratulations: you probably are the child of F.O.B.s!
So the next time your mother tries to haggle at The Gap or your father declares any male friend of yours with an earring “gay,” and you’re left sitting there fantasizing about different ways to die, just remember: being a F.O.B.-child is not without its advantages. Chances are you’re multi-lingual, which is very cool, and you probably get to travel to different countries to visit relatives who are still O.B. (On the Boat). And, best of all, if you’re lucky, your culture probably comes along with some pretty decent food.
So cheer up! Things could have been a lot worse.
We could have been Canadian.
Jackie Levin is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at jl482@cornell.edu. Everything In Its Right Place appears alternate Fridays.
Friday, May 4, 2007
There's Nothing Special About an Israeli and an Iranian Being Friends
Here's the deal; there's nothing special about my friendship with Shab (Shabnam). Sure she's Iranian and I'm Israeli but we met at a yoga class. We talk about girl stuff, our husbands, work, motherhood and even more often, food and diet. I never befriended an Iranian I befriended Shab ( and then her husband ). I'm not ignorant and I'm sure I'm just as much of a bigot as the next person, but I never cared that Shab is Iranian.
I didn't have an opinion about Iranians before I met Shab and her husband. They're both very impressive people. I know that their families left Iran after the Islamic revolution and that brings another topic to my mind. It seems that people who have had to flea their country and rebuild their lives elsewhere are naturally very resourceful and smart. So I'm a bit prejudiced about Iranians now.
Ayelet
I didn't have an opinion about Iranians before I met Shab and her husband. They're both very impressive people. I know that their families left Iran after the Islamic revolution and that brings another topic to my mind. It seems that people who have had to flea their country and rebuild their lives elsewhere are naturally very resourceful and smart. So I'm a bit prejudiced about Iranians now.
Ayelet
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