|
(or, How One Develops a New Set of Eyes) As I announced in last month’s newsletter, my first book is scheduled for publication in 2025! Its title? Road Between Two Hearts: A Black American Bride Discovers Iran. The story? It’s about me, a Black American Christian woman too ashamed to admit I am terrified to start a new life with my husband in his homeland: post-revolutionary Iran (1992-1996). The rest is what happens when I deny my true feelings, leave Columbus, Ohio, and follow him anyway. So, it’s a memoir, a love story, a cross-cultural analysis, and a self-reflection—all rolled into one!  Leslie and Mahmoud when they met at The Ohio State University, 1984 But, how did this memoir come to be birthed in the first place? The answer can be found in the following excerpt from the memoir itself: Viewing the city in the company of family from my brother-in-law’s familiar sedan felt totally different from a view from the bus. It wasn’t long before riding the chaotic streets of Tehran left me exhilarated like no other moment did. A trusting backseat passenger, I’d stare out the car window and soak it all in: the hot wind that pleasantly grazed my face, the flowing black script of Persian on kelly green street signs, the sculpted gardens and old world fountains. There was the high rise of modern buildings and towers, the worn-down buildings of yesteryear, the remnants of history and old glories, the forgotten litter down back ravines. Finally, Road Between Two Hearts is about how I developed a new pair of eyes toward the country, the culture, and the people of Iran. Just as a pitch black room at night gradually becomes easier to see as our eyes adjust, and just as an intricate painting, a complex movie, or the subtle range of colors along a mountainside become more distinguishable with each subsequent view, so my eyes perceived Iran differently over time.
Maybe that’s why when I was writing my story, I imagined telling it to fellow non-Iranians like perhaps many of you—most who have not had the opportunity to experience Iran and its people firsthand like I did. And while your reading my story as seen through my eyes may not lead you to the same impressions as mine, I hope it will at least leave you with new perspectives to ponder. Years before I met Mahmoud or knew I would fall in love with him, marry him, and start a new life with him in Iran, my sister Sylvia happened to share a favorite quotation of hers: “The real voyage of discovery lies not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” (Marcel Proust). Little did I know how deeply relevant its message would become in my life, or how often its wisdom would challenge and enlighten me. I hope you will follow me on my authoring journey—from now till my memoir is a published book! I can’t wait to share it with you; that’s why I wrote it! Please stay tuned for updates as they develop! --Leslie
0 Comments
Today, dear Readers, I offer you something a little different. It’s a happy message, short and sweet (although not necessarily soft and sweet; you’ll know what I mean once you hear it!) I hope you will take a moment to listen! Thank you, Readers, for listening as well as reading! And please stay tuned to future blogposts for additional details regarding this message!
My very best, Leslie Powell Ahmadi This year for my birthday, Mahmoud surprised and delighted me with the living, breathing gift of a cockatiel—something akin to a small parrot sporting a proud crest on its head plus an attitude to match, and colored in shades and shocks of yellow, gray, orange, and white. Torn between naming him “Charlie” (for the “regular guy” character he was) or “Mango” (for his plump, mango-shaped body and sweet blush of mango color on each cheek), we knitted the two names together and started calling him “Chango”—the name that stuck. But when Chango came to his new home and his feisty little whistle soon dwindled to a sullen silence, we impulsively returned to the pet store and bought him what we thought he needed: an avian companion in the form of a zebra-striped blue parakeet with a neon-white circle on the crown of his head. Miniature in size compared to his towering new roommate, he was nonetheless curious, persistent, even insistent about keeping watch over Chango as if he were the bigger one—a doting, nurturing caretaker! Wherever Chango would go, so would his self-appointed little sidekick—often sidling up close, invading Chango’s “personal space,” imitating Chango’s cockatiel gurgles and mumbles, and otherwise getting into Chango’s business. It wasn’t long before he had aptly earned the name “Snoopy.” Suffice it to say, the two didn’t start off on the best of terms—so much so that we decided to buy little Snoopy his own separate living space to keep him safe from Chango’s lunges. But, wouldn’t you know, when we walked in on them with the new cage in hand, we witnessed a most unexpected scene: a moment of Snoopy and Chango interfacing as friends! Not only that—but that moment marked the beginning of a flourishing bond between them—one that endures to this day! They have even chosen to remain together in the same living space! Take a peek at the “before” and “after” scenes of their interpersonal interactions: How to account for the clear change in relationship status between these two little birds? It’s the kind of thing that brings back to mind Baba’s words (referenced in last month’s blogpost) when I asked him the secret of getting along in the face of conflict: “The secret to getting along… is to really want to.” Evidently the principle can apply to the world of nonhumans too!  “Baba”—that is one of the first words I learned in my Persian class at Ohio State after marrying my Iranian husband Mahmoud. The word is the equivalent of “Daddy” in Persian. And that’s what I came to call my father-in-law when we moved to Iran in 1992 (In a similar vein, I came to call my mother-in-law Maman too). You would think I’d have noticed that Mahmoud and his siblings addressed their father as Aqa (“Sir”), as was common practice for children to do in Iran at the time, but no, I did not! And no one ever corrected me—including Baba—so, happily for me, the name Baba stuck! (Of course, while Baba never took the place of my father, it was such a comfort to have a father figure like him to look up to while in Iran.) And just as I called him “Baba,” so I treated him as would a very young child who looks up to her daddy with simplicity and trust—asking him anything and everything that came to mind in my very basic Persian. I asked him to explain lessons to be learned from different figures loved and revered by Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike-- figures like Abraham, Moses, Joseph. I asked him if it was really true that in Islam men were permitted to have more than one wife. I even asked him what he thought would happen at death to a person like me who loved God but was Christian rather than Muslim. His candid answers usually surprised, often amused, and consistently delighted me. Part of the reason is that with every response I always saw love, acceptance, and often a fun-loving spirit in his eyes. And I couldn’t help but recognize my husband’s deep-ridged smile and shining eyes in his father’s. In these deeply troubled and troubling times, how I wish Baba could be here to answer my questions, to share his heart, his wisdom, his example. He is no longer with us. And yet… …I still remember the day I asked Baba what he thought was the secret to our two countries (i.e., Iran and America) getting along, given the ongoing history of tension between our two governments. I can still hear the thoughtful pause before his answer, then his slightly crackly voice, then his simple words resonating: “Ms. Leslie, the secret to our two countries getting along … is for them to truly want it.” Wow. Such a simple answer. And yet rife with profound challenges and implications. Not just for Iran and America, but for so many parties throughout the whole world. Like between countries at war, between spouses or among other family members, between people of different faiths—even in the relationship between God and me. My dear Baba—he showed us how it worked. As the American saying goes, “The proof was in the pudding.” Little did I know then that “Baba,” (whom everyone outside the family called Firooz Khan [“Sir Firooz”]), was famous across multiple surrounding regions for the kindness and wisdom he shared with those who sought it—how he was frequently asked to be an arbitrator when differences between parties seemed irreconcilable. He had a gift—and heart—for helping others understand the benefits inherent to people getting along with each other … and the unlocking power behind truly wanting it. Baba, I miss you! We could truly use your example and wisdom now in the world.  It was just one week ago: March 19, 2024. And since it was the first day of Spring, it also marked the first day of the Iranian/Persian New Year! I was sitting on my moss green couch when I heard a ginger rapping on our front door. Was it the mail carrier with yet another UPS package to sign for? No; it was a gorgeous pair of sparkling brown eyes awaiting me instead. They belonged to one of Parisa’s (my adult daughter’s) Iranian friends. “Zari?!” I said, laughing as I opened the door and welcomed her in. “Saalam, Leslie joon! Sale no mobarak!” (“Hello, Dear Leslie! Happy New Year!”) she replied, hugging me with one arm and balancing a dish of tender green wheat sprouts (sabzeh) on the other. “And here you are: the sabzeh I promised to bring for your haft sin [pronounced “haft seen”]--I mean, for your New Year table!” “Zari! I know what haft sin is. It’s a display of seven items from nature that start with the “S” sound in Persian, with each item symbolizing something we associate with new year!” Just like this dish of sabzeh you brought me, symbolizing the renewal of life.” “Yes, very good—that’s exactly right!” said Zari, duly impressed. “So, where is your table with the other six symbols? I’ll put the sabzeh there.” I cleared my throat. “Mmmmmm… Well … Amin (my son-in-law) usually sets up the table, but he and Parisa are out of town now, and I still can’t quite remember where they packed the items and decorations from last year’s haft sin. But no worries--I’m sure I’ll find them! In the meantime, let me find a suitable tablecloth to put here on this table. We’ll make your sabzeh the centerpiece and get things started! I found something even better than “suitable”: a fine cloth of gold and sky-blue brocade that Amin had brought back from Iran. But even when we draped it artfully on the table and crowned it with Zari’s dish of wheat sprouts, my New Year’s table looked pretty bare!  “I’ll find the other items,” I told Zari a second time (but I wasn’t really convinced that I could!) “You know what?” Zari said, interrupting my thoughts, “I have a few things to do, but it’s only five o’clock, and we still have six more hours before the New Year starts. So, I’ll be back if I can--and together we can make your haft sin complete!” No sooner had I asked myself, Why should she go through this trouble for me?, than she pecked me on the cheek and answered my question (“Because you are just like my aunt to me!”)—as if she had just read my mind! Moments later she waved, and off she went! Three hours later, I heard another rapping sound on the door. When I opened it, sure enough, it was Zari again--looking even more stunning than usual and ready to go out on the town! But slung across her shoulder was a plain linen bag that made clinking sounds as she entered the house! What was inside? “Sorry to be late!” she humbly apologized, “But I brought a few things from my house that maybe we could use for your New Year’s table? Wanna see?” She reached into the bag, pulled out an assortment of objects, and laid each one just so on the blue brocade...  Suddenly my lonely little haft sin had bloomed into a bright, festive tribute to a meaningful holiday. And it embodies the first act of kindness I remember from this year’s Iranian New Year! Thank you, Dear Zari!  And finally: SALE NO MOBARAK! A happy Persian New Year to everyone who celebrates it! PS For those who would like a brief explanation of the meaning behind the haft sin symbols: It’s not hard to see how the green sprouts of sabzeh would tie in with the theme of the “new life” of spring. And in keeping with long-held Iranian tradition, at least six other items (all beginning with the “s” sound) should grace a household table with their symbolic presence:
There’s a whole array of additional options that could make for an even fancier table: a polished mirror, shiny coins, brightly-colored eggs like you might see at Easter, goldfish swimming in a bowl. But between you and me, my favorite item will always be sabzeh, (like the sprouts Zari [pictured above] gifted me with as a centerpiece for the table, and like the shoots we used to plant in our milk cartons when I was in second grade!)   A warm welcome to everyone reading this announcement—whether you are new or a longtime visitor to this space! This is Leslie Powell Ahmadi: a Black American Christian woman who met and married a man from a Muslim family—and for a period relocated with him to post-revolutionary Iran. Every month or so I enjoy bringing you information, an experience, an encounter, and/or a perspective related to Iran and its people. Something that may catch your attention. I have also written a memoir called Road Between Two Hearts: A Black American Bride Discovers Iran--where I’m the bride! But more about that in a later post!
Again, congratulations to you, Deb and Kathie! And for those who entered the drawing but did not win this time, please know that future drawings for other prizes lie ahead! What’s more, I encourage those of you who’d like tips on sparking a romantic evening, Persian style (complete with luscious recipes, poetry, and songs) to visit my homepage (leslieahmadi.com), where you can subscribe and download a beautiful free booklet on that Valentine/love-themed topic!
Incidentally—if you have not yet signed up for my newsletter, I encourage you to do so (which will also automatically enable you to download the free booklet referenced above). Since today’s message is more of an announcement than newsletter (or blog) content, please expect my upcoming “official” newsletter to arrive at your email box a bit later this month! *** Kheilee Mamnoon (which means “Thank you very much” in Persian/Farsi)!  Meet Teratai—who answers the question in this Valentine’s season: “Cross-Cultural Romance: Is it Worth It?” Introduction: I first met Ms. Teratai Hiep two years ago. It was through an online forum for trainers and coaches who help clients transition into new and unfamiliar cultural settings. She is an intercultural and English language trainer based in the Netherlands and runs her own practice at Prokompas Coaching & Training. She is also a genuinely compassionate person who passed on a particularly wise and helpful poem to me on a day she correctly sensed I might need it. Originally from Singapore, Teratai loves tasting new cuisines, experiencing different cultures, and especially, listening to the stories of others. You can tune into her “At The Crossroads” podcast with Dr Leslie Ahmadi, when she interviewed me on my experience of moving to Iran for cross-cultural love! But Teratai is also married to someone from a different country and culture! As today’s guest blogger, she was kind enough to write today’s special Valentine edition blogpost on the intriguing question: “Cross-cultural romance: Is it worth it?” Drawing from her own experience, Teratai offers food for thought to anyone contemplating a cross-cultural romance—or who knows somebody who is. I encourage you to read her reflections below! Here is what Teratai has to say: (Note: If you would like to respond to Teratai’s post, please enter your comments at the end of the post below) As Valentine’s Day takes center stage again this February, I remember the many couples across the world who are in love interculturally—and are also enduring a long distance between them. I was one such person. After seven years of enduring a long-distance relationship, I remember how difficult the holidays were. I spent hours online, facing a 14-inch laptop screen with my loved one on the other side. My partner (whom I am proud to call my husband today) was in the Netherlands, and I was in Singapore. Divided not only by time (six to seven hours difference) and distance (6,500 miles) we faced other potential dividers as well, e. g.: I was East Asian, and he was Western, I was Malay, and he was Dutch, I was a big-city girl, and he a small-village boy, and so many other differences as well! We always managed to navigate through the differences together, though. One Valentine’s Day, we made cookies on Skype together—both in our own kitchens, following the same recipe, I at my lunch time and he at his dinner time. Busying our hands with cookie dough, we laughed while shaping our cookies. But in our minds we were constantly yearning to share the same physical space. So, the question, “When marrying across differences, will love be enough?” remains a tough one for me. We have been together since 2010. And in 2017 we finally succeeded in my making the move to my new home country of the Netherlands. And now in 2024, as I write to you from my office in Leiden, my fingers tap heavily on the keyboard because of the gravity of this question. I can be super optimistic and tell you love is enough! But in sharing the timeline of our relationship just now, I feel it doesn’t convey enough all the times we planned and yet failed to come together over the years. Or the effort behind learning and accepting each other’s cultures and traditions and the many mistakes we made. Or the patience and kindness it took for each of us to let go of the what-could-have-been-if-I-had-pursued-my-career instead of choosing intercultural love. And all the above could be just the tip of the iceberg for some couples who could be facing many other considerations too. But has it been worth it? My fingers feel lighter now – yes, it has been worth it for me. It can be painful in the short term, but as I look back on the years, it has been a beautiful journey. And I am sure it will remain beautiful as the years roll in and new chapters open for us. But we must acknowledge that there will always be sacrifices involved as part of the growing. For me, that meant not seeing my family and close friends back in Singapore as much as I would have liked. A close family member died some weeks back, and despite rushing to the airport and catching the next direct 13-hour flight to Singapore, I still missed the burial. It’s a wound that is still mending, but I accept it as a consequence of choices I have made. Marrying across differences requires consistency, patience, kindness from each other—and, despite how boring it sounds, meticulous planning too. I count my lucky stars that my husband has been a rock-solid addition to my life. So, I send my love and best wishes to all the couples out there, as well as to family and friends of someone who is going through such an experience on this Valentine’s. Please be kind to them during this period of their lives. Intercultural love and long-distance relationships can be difficult, but they can also be beautiful. And I hope at the end of it all, yours will be as worthwhile for you as it is for me. Sincerely, Teratai Hiep Note: Special thanks to Teratai for her wonderful post! If you would like to find out more about her, you can read her blog or follow her on LinkedIn and Instagram. AND NOW, A REMINDER FROM LAST MONTH’S NEWSLETTER: HOW TO ENTER TO WIN A UNIBROW LADY WALL HANGINGS FROM IRAN FOR BOTH YOU AND A FRIEND/COLLEAGUE (Drawing on March 1)
[both made of wood and tile]
So, here are the steps on how to enter yourself and your friend in the “Unibrow Lady” Wall Hangings Giveaway (See below):
I hope you and your colleague(s) will choose to participate! *** As always, Kheilee mamnoon! (i.e., “Thank you!” in Persian), FINALLY—A HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY TO ALL: INCLUDING SWEETHEARTS, BELOVED FRIENDS, CHERISHED FAMILY MEMBERS, AND EVERY SINGLE OTHER PERSON! Leslie Powell Ahmadi Dear Friends and Readers: A warm welcome to the January 2024 blogpost of Leslie Powell Ahmadi: a Black American Christian woman who met and married a man from Iran who was raised in a Muslim family. I met Mahmoud at The Ohio State University, married him in 1988, and four years later relocated to Iran to start a new life with him. It was not an easy decision. But ultimately Mahmoud, our two young children, and I lived in the spectacular historic city of Isfahan from 1992 – 1996. And a lot happened during those four years. It is all captured in a memoir I’ve written called Road Between Two Hearts: A Black American Bride Discovers Iran (stand by for details regarding its future publication). Every month or so I enjoy bringing you information, an experience, an encounter, and/or a perspective related to Iran and its people that may catch your attention. But this time--for the first time in two years--I depart from that agenda to ask for your help! Here is my question: Would you be willing to help me grow my community of readers—by approaching family, friends, and colleagues of yours who would be interested in the kind of content I offer in my newsletter and upcoming book? If so, here is my request, starting today and lasting through the last day of February (which this year is February 29: a Leap Year Day!) Would you …
 (Popular Persian image of the “Unibrow Lady” [Khatoon] embedded in the sun) Who is the Persian “Unibrow Lady”? Inspired by a figure in Persian folklore known as Khatoon (a quaint Persian word for “The Lady”), I used to spot her emblematic image here and there, in Iranian stores and city street bazaars where handicrafts were sold. Before long, I was looking for her (or similar images) in such places, and usually sooner or later she would draw my eye. She charmed me! Adorned in colorful, classical Persian garb in keeping with her occupation—this one a princess, this one a chef, this one a huntress, this one a mother, this one a musician, this one someone’s beloved—what all the unibrow ladies share in common is their pretty round faces, an ageless quality and grace about them, an ambiguous hidden expression, and perhaps most of all, a unibrow—that is, a pair of eyebrows drawn as two thick black arches—joined in the middle and just above the bridge of the nose. Look below for two examples of Iranian handiwork with “Unibrow Lady” figures:
What is the cultural significance of the “Unibrow Lady” (Khatoon)? Ask several Iranian women and you might just get a different spin from each one. But if I could sum it up briefly, my understanding is that (1) She embodies the thick dark brows that many Iranian women have naturally before they choose to tweeze them (which traditionally in the past was when they got married, but nowadays many young women start to tweeze around puberty.) (2) She represents a dual sentiment of many Iranian women that full and bushy eyebrows are both a blessing and a curse: i.e.,
AND NOW… HOW TO ENTER TO WIN THE UNIBROW LADY WALL HANGINGS FOR BOTH YOU AND A FRIEND/COLLEAGUE
So, here is how to enter yourself and your friend in the “Unibrow Lady” Wall Hangings Giveaway: a. Invite a friend or colleague who might be interested in my website and related content to visit my website and sign up for my monthly newsletter. b. If your friend/colleague agrees to consider it, direct them to my website at leslieahmadi.com, and ask them to subscribe (within 48 hours if possible) for a chance to win the Unibrow Lady—that is, one of the wall hangings that are pictured above. Actually, the prize will be one wall hanging for each of you! c. Next, please do the following (yourself): --Reply to this email to notify me of your friend’s or colleague’s intention to subscribe. How?
I hope you and your colleague(s) will choose to participate! As always, Kheilee mamnoon! (i.e., “Thank you!” in Persian), Leslie I invite you to look at this jubilant scene of the very first Christmas-- here with Maryam, Yusef, the baby Isa and the traveling wise men, also known as the Magi*:  It was painted by the celebrated modern Iranian Christian artist Hossein Behzad (1894 - 1968). Highly respected by Christian and Muslim fans alike, he is known for blending both Eastern and Western influences while leaving a "Persian flavor" intact.
What do I love about the picture? The fluid lines, the live, luscious colors, the spontaneous wonder on every expression—where each body leans in unconscious attention, each eye falls on the baby in tender delight. A setting where strangers become an intimate circle. I mean—if you'd been around and had stumbled upon them, wouldn't you also feel welcome to join them? P.S.: It is true that the majority of Iranian residents are of Islamic heritage; this I knew before I met my husband Mahmoud. What I did not know was that while Islam does not teach that Jesus (Isa) is the son of God, it does present Jesus as a great and beloved prophet, born of a blessed virgin named Mary (Maryam)—as captured in the joyful depiction above. * Finally: I am not studied enough to verify the claims some scholars make that (at least one of) the Magi were ethnically Persian. But I do find it lovely that my husband's family in Iran seems to take pride in that suggestion! Thank you, All Readers! May this season be just what each of you needs it to be.  A November pomegranate from Columbus, Ohio, USA! What better way to welcome NOVEMBER (and be sincere about it) than to remember it’s the peak of POMEGRANATE SEASON in many parts of the world? There was a time when pomegranates weren’t as easy to find, when we’d be lucky to find them in specialty shops. But now they’re appearing in supermarkets—their succulent treasure just waiting to be discovered. So, if you haven’t ventured to try them already, I invite you . . . encourage you . . . dare you to try them! I started my own quest at the supermarket weeks ago--lurking about the produce section . . . poking around the aisles . . . hungering for the splendid red orbs with the top notches. When I spotted the first ones in early October, they were measly and spotty to the casual onlooker . . . but to me, even then, they shined bright and glorious: the triumphant booty of my treasure hunt. They ushered me back to memories of Iran, those sticky-sweet moments with Mahmoud’s family: our fingers drenched with the color of rubies, our tongues being alternately piqued and quenched by squirts of sweet tanginess brighter than cranberries. There were also the jubilant crackling sounds from the expert’s hands that could open a pomegranate. I can still see Baba, my beloved father-in-law, breaking off sections and passing them out as if they were chunks of a loaf of bread. Our busy fingers, dislodging the pellets, scooped their glistening goodness straight into our mouths . . . Baba knew the secret of feasting on pomegranate: that it’s as much an event about being together as it is about the pleasures of eating it. Maybe that’s why the pomegranate was his favorite fruit! The Engineer The One who fashioned ruby Has crafted another masterpiece: He chiseled out the facets, Lined them all in silver, Wrapped them in a ball, And called it “pomegranate." [--a favorite poem of Baba's (poet unknown), translated from the Persian]  The same November pomegranate--opened! --Here's a short and easy YouTube demo on how to open a pomegranate (Note: You can also use the same technique and skip the water step altogether) --And here's an article on the health benefits of pomegranates, FINALLY
I invite you to watch my debut podcast interview with podcast host Toby Dorr (Fierce Conversations with Toby). You will find it on her website at tobydorr.com/podcast-schedule/ or on YouTube at www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1NcR6645Xw Hope you’ll join Toby and me there! Leslie |
AuthorDr. Leslie Ahmadi discovered her intercultural calling in her parents’ home at age four--where between the jazz, the spirituals, and the rock ‘n roll music, she heard folk songs in languages from around the world. Thirty years later she had a doctorate in foreign language and culture education--and her folk song guitar never far away. Archives
July 2024
Categories |
RSS Feed