The World According To Tina Ehrami

I just finished reading ‘The Bathhouse’ by Farnoosh Moshiri. You think that you can get used to violence and injustice, but you can’t. After hearing so many first person stories of people who survived Iran’s prisons you think you can imagine how it is, but you can’t. Perhaps I still can’t (thank god!), because I’ve never experienced it myself. But reading this novel from the main characters first person perspective wrenches my guts.

We should never forget about these crimes against humanity, no matter how worse the situation gets somewhere else in the world. You can’t compare evil and pain on a schale, just as you can’t say that the holocaust wasn’t that horrible if you compare it to what happened in Rwanda.

Human rights isn’t something to use as an exchange tool in international negotiations or as a political pressure vehicle. It is a basic necessity without which we cannot exist.

Remember coming home after a night out and having your hair and clothes smell like an ashtray? Those days are finally over, at least for those living in The Netherlands. From this day on, smoking in bars, clubs and restaurants is prohibited. There are certain places that are designated for smoking, but then it’s in the far corner of a club or in an open air space.

All the happy smokers of The Hague had a chance to say goodbye to smoking in clubs during ’smoking parties’ last night in several different clubs. People smoked till they were all grey and yellow in the face just to ‘celebrate’ their final fag indoors. Partir, c’est mourir un peu n’est-ce pas, chers fumeurs?  

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful country called Persia. Its people lived in peace with each other, they played polo, drank wine, recited poetry to each other while listening to the soothing melody of the santur. Their trade was love and their feul was devotion to divine beauty.

Love and devotion slowly turned into selfconsciousness and vanity. The people of peaceful Persia longed for more than their eyes could perceive. The thirst for material beauty took over and made them feel ashamed of their own emptiness. They forgot about the divine beauty they once had in all the simplicity and innocence.

Ideals from far away places swept their own identity away. The unknown became desirable and strangers became more beloved than old friends and lovers.

Strangers took over the hearts and minds of the Persians. Time passed by and poems were being forgotten, one by one. Old friends became new enemies, jealousy was spread among families like plages. Death and decay came upon them.

The once peaceful people of Persia separated from each other. They became greedy and selfish. They changed their names, their looks and sent their armies to kill each other for their lands.

Once their fathers, husbands, brothers and sons didn’t return and their deeds started to sink in, they became aware of what they’d done. But it was too late. They had not just lost their innocence, but everything and everyone they had.

When all was wasted, used, killed and thrown away, they realized they were all losers of a lethal game. Mourning over their loss and misery over their mistakes, they lost all their hope and love.

But their children grew up and as every flower that reaches for the light, they searched for their own love, their own fresh start.

After all the wounds were healed, Persia lived again, like a phoenix flying out of the rubble. The flower is reborn.

Pictures by Niki Koohpaima

The 20th of June is World Refugee Day. It is amazing to know that there are millions of displaced people living in refugee camps all over the world. I read this poem by my favourite Dutch poet, Wouter. Dedicated to all refugee’s who long for their own soil under their feet:

Lied van de vreemdeling
 
de huizen en de straten hier ze zijn mij onbekend
en ik dacht altijd dat brood en steen
alleen ontstonden naar de mij vertrouwde vormen
en het is kouder overal en eerder ook
de ogen zijn lichter en geen kijkt mij aan
ik ben de vreemdeling ik kom hier niet vandaan
ik kom hier niet vandaan ik kom hier niet vandaan

vroeger kon ik groet van vloek nog onderscheiden
maar hier knik ik maar beleefd en glimlach
wat ik in geen gezicht weerspiegeld zie
de mensen spreken niet alleen ze zwijgen ook
een andere taal en zien mij nergens staan
ik ben maar een vreemdeling ik kom hier niet vandaan
ik kom hier niet vandaan ik kom hier niet vandaan

de mensen zij kunnen praten zonder hun mond
te bewegen laat staan hun lichaam
ik begrijp de woorden wel maar niet de taal
het is of kaal of kabaal en daartussen niets
ik wil niet blijven maar ik kan niet gaan
ik ben een vreemdeling ik kom hier maar niet vandaan
ik kom hier maar niet vandaan ik kom hier maar niet vandaan

ik volg de zon maar hij voelt het minst vervormd
de patronen waarin ik leef ze kloppen niet
zoals mijn hart ik ween in de ochtend
bij mijn gebed ik huil in de avond voor mijn land
en als de zon opkomt dan lig ik wakker denkend aan
ik ben de vreemdeling hoe kom ik hier vandaan
hoe kom ik hier vandaan hoe kom ik hier vandaan

mijn thuis was mijn huis en ook andersom
totdat mijn eigen volk met dolk en bom
zijn vaderland vol wezen achterliet
en ik moest vluchten voor leven en dood
op zoek naar een bodem voor mijn bestaan
ik ben een vreemdeling nergens kom ik meer vandaan
ik kom nergens meer vandaan ik kom nergens meer vandaan

het brood dat geen kruimels overlaat stenen
die sneller groeien dan ik het is hier gehaast
of gehaat zo anders waren de bergen die lagen
te rusten als een kat in de zon en ook ik droomde
ik droomde van een land waar ik ooit naartoe kon gaan
en nu ben ik een vreemdeling ik kom er niet vandaan
ik kom er niet vandaan ik kom er niet vandaan

~Wouter

The holy book of Muslims, the Quran, is a much discussed book in our post- 9-11 era, whether it involves Jihadist ideology, social or cultural discussions or alternate interpretations in the context of the 21st century, the book raises emotions and questions.

Certain politicians express their fear of the actual practice of “codes of conduct” that are prescribed in the Quran. Intellectuals use verses from the Quran to point out the dangers of Islam as a religion in Western society, imagining the use of the holy book as a sort of “manual of life” for those who submit themselves to Allah.

In short, the Quran did not have a very friendly image in general Western context. Time for an “extreme makeover”, that must have been the line of thought of Kader Abdolah (Arak, 1954), the author of “The Quran and the Messenger”.

Abdolah, or Seyed Hossein Sadjadi Ghaemmaghami Farahani as his real name is, writes Dutch novels since 1993. He arrived in The Netherlands in 1988 as a political refugee and bravely started a career as a novelist. His column “Mirza” in the Dutch daily newspaper “De Volkskrant” shows the way he perceives social developments in The Netherlands through the eyes of an immigrant, an Iranian and sometimes a(n)(ex-)Muslim.

His novels managed to rise above the intimate circle of “migrant authors” and received the recognition and sympathy of many Dutchmen. His book “The House of the Mosque” (2007) was called out as the second best novel in Dutch literary history, which is a great achievement for someone who is still learning the Dutch language!

His “The Quran and the Messenger” is a simplified version of the Quran combined with the story of the prophet’s life, in a twin series. Mohammad becomes an actual person in this book, which makes it very different from all other writings by Muslims in which the prophet is portrayed as an infallible being.

Abdolah is aware of the fact that this novel would never be published in Muslim countries, because it would be seen as blasphemous to alter anything from the original Quran or even write about the prophet as if he were an ordinary individual.

What Abdolah tried to do was to give the Quran a friendlier face, by changing sura’s from its harsh character into more peaceful interpretations. He also added Dutch elements to the book to make it more appealing for the Dutch reader.

Critics say that he is fooling the people who read this with a biased view on Islam. Others say that he makes Islam more understandable and might even soften the Islam debates when people read and understand the true core of Islam.

By changing the chronology of the sura’s, he adds a certain storyline element that makes it easy for the reader to follow. In a way one could compare his book with the existing “children’s bibles” that Christians use to educate about the religion through storytelling.

Perhaps Abdolah has made one of the few first steps towards the “coming of age” of the Islam religion in Western society, or what others might call “the enlightenment of Islam”. If so, his book might have to be translated into more languages, than the average six languages which has become his norm.

When studying at the Institute of Higher European Studies I learned about the theories of Geert Hofstede regarding cultural dimensions, during a course of intercultural communciation.

It seems that the ranking on the cultural dimensions graphics get totally out of line of expectation once you apply it to people who aren’t living in their country of birth. They have some kind of hybrid culture that can’t be put into the boxes that typifies their background. I just recently found out that I rank high on uncertainty avoidance and low on power distance, which isn’t that common for an Iranian. I rank low on context and am more of an individualist…I guess cultural theories are fine as long as you stay where you’re born. Or you end up like a hybrid, like me!

…except for world peace and the end of famine…(!) is to hold on to today and live and breathe its beauty before contemplating on the gifts of tomorrow.

 ’Everyone must know the background of this picture! I thought. After seeing a documentary about the suppression of press in China and listening to university students saying ‘this must be some scene out of a movie’ or ‘it looks like a war situation’ or ‘what is this?’

I came to realize how important it is to remember and share knowledge about occurences that are indispensable from world history.  

Those who don’t accept their mistakes and history are bound to repeat them in the future!That’s why Amnesty International will make sure that this year on June 4th every single person in The Hague won’t miss the point. To be certain the press won’t miss it either, a giant tank will be present on the ‘Plein’, to remind everyone of what happened that day years ago on Tiananmen Square.

Het goudgele korenveld strekt uit tot aan de horizon, waar de zon met verlegen zonnestralen als gouden pijlen de grijze lucht doorboort. Het korenveld danst wuivend heen en weer op de melodie van een frisse ochtendbries. Ieder korenstengel is een deel van het veld en het veld is als één bloot vrouwenlichaam uitgestrekt op haar rug en beweegt meegaand met de zachte ademhaling van de wind. Daar in dat korenveld ligt het geheim van eeuwenoude wijsheid en serene vrede. Daar, in dat korenveld wil zij zijn, bij elke zonsopgang en elke zonsondergang. Niet stoffelijk, maar als een schaduw. Misschien wel een schaduw met gevoel en een eigen wil. Een schaduw van niets anders dan zichzelf. Een onbestemd wezen dat in zichzelf een ultieme bestemming heeft. Zo wil zij bestaan en alles om haar heen absorberen. ‘Zonder bestemming is er geen vooruitgang,’ dacht zij. Maar niet alle bestemmingen zijn bestemd om bereikt te worden….

(Just to get in the mood for yoga,…or writing,…or both!)

The sun is shining and I’m glad. For my health, for my sanity, for the people in my life and for all the good things that cross my path. Last weekend we spent a good old holiday with a group, ten of our Iranian friends with whom we often get together. We had a blast down in the Belgian Ardennes. I think if I would’ve written down all the new Iranian jokes I heard, I could’ve started a whole new Jokestan!

We stayed in a chalet in the middle of a forest near the French border. It was one of those typical eat, laughe and joke around all day and night kind of weekends. We bbq’ed, played cards, went for walks, talked about life, made jokes, sang, danced and ate,…a lot!

It was relaxing to cuddle up together on a few blankets around the fire and just enjoy life with all its beautiful gifts like genuine friendship.

I am blessed to have all I have in this life and damn lucky too!