So finally, I'm going to start to tell my story. I'm not to clear on some dates, but I will edit them in time. Right now I just want to get the ball rolling. So my first memories in Iran as a teenager are from circa 1977. We had just returned to Iran from Japan, where we had been living for 5 years. I'd been going to a nice catholic girls school there. Life in Iran couldn't have been more different. First of all I signed up in a co-ed international school. I didn't have a uniform to wear and for the first time in my life my school was no a longer walking distance to my home. That meant taking the bus, which happened to be quite educational and not necessarily in a good way. Our bus I think had some of the rowdiest kids, ranging from elementary school all the way to highschool. It was quite an eye opener. I'd been going to a school in Japan run by the nuns. I was a very good girl. I was a good little brownie, and I believed in fairies. My world was devoid of anger, meanness. I didn't know a single curse word, and I was always nice to eveyone, sharing my snacks with my friends, etc. Well because that what fairy people did. Well I grew up very fast once I was in Iran. I was cursing like a sailor in no time, and reciting dirty jokes I learned from the boys in my bus. I never really had a problem making friends, I've always been the class clown.
Anyways I started 5th grade in Iranzamin. My teacher was Mr. Yowell. My best friends were Kathy , Kim and Cara. We all had simmilar background having been abroad and then returning to Iran. We got on fantastically. Mr Yowell was a very special teacher. I was lucky to been one of the priveledged students to be in his class. He was an older gentleman, single and it seemed lived for the kids. He was one of the kindest people I've ever met. We had this thing in our class, where at the end of the day he would read us a story. We'd sit at our desks, heads on the table and dream away. He always had snacks that he would bring for our reading time, and we all took turns going up to his desk to get our treats. He was famous for his sweet hot pickles, and he'd give a jar of his famous relish to one of the students every week. We had a patio attached to our classroom and he would bring out a BBQ and cook hotdogs for us. I can still remember the smoky flavour. He played with us at recess. He read us the Hobbit, and generally made life in his class a joy. I miss him dearly. So my first year back in Iran was all about adjusting to new surroundings. It was great fun. It was only in the following year ('78-'79) when the rumblings of a revolution started. To be honest I had no clue it was happening. We were really sheltered in my school. First of all the school building was in an undeveloped western suburb of the city. There were hardly any other buildings there, so we where quite out of touch from the rest of the city. While demonstrations were going on in downtown and in other parts of Tehran, it was quiet and peaceful in our neck of the woods. That year most public schools in Tehran were closed for the better part of the year. I remember my cousin who went to school near where my Dad worked in the city centre, only attended for 2 months. At home I don't remember much being said about all that was going on. Those were the days when everyone was scared of the SAVAK (secret service) so they still kept to themselves regarding any political views. My only brushes with the chaos that was ensuing in the city was, when we came to school one day and found the window to my classroom broken. Someone had thrown a Molotov cocktail throught the window. Luckly it didn't blow. It hit the teacher desk, and the fuel in the bottle dissolved all the paint from her desk. Of course we had no idea that some one was trying to blow our class room up. My other experience was the day they came by to tell us that martial law had been imposed and that curfew was 4:00pm. That was the time we usually got out of school and then it was another hour before we got home. We ended up leaving school around 3:00. Of course many of the roads were blocked so it took us longer to get home. The streets around where we lived (northern Tehran) were vacant. Fo the first time we saw soldiers with guns. At every turn the bus driver had to negotiate with the soldiers to let us pass through check points so that he could get us home. I remember when we finally arrived home, my parents were out in the street anxiously awaiting us. After that we had a couple of weeks of school closure, but then everything went back to normal. Our school was run by an American couple, many of the staff were American. We had students from all parts of the world attending. I still remember the fashion. Considering what really transpired that year, I believe the King left the country in Jan 1979, things remained unchanged at our school. It was as though time stood still. Back at home there was now a noticable change. My Dad, had reconnected with many of his university classmates, and we used to have monthly gatherings. These gathering became quite animated, seeing that every possible political view was represented. There were people from the extreme left, to devoted followers of Khomeini. These were all educated members of society, yet at these gatherings, it became a shouting match each convince they knew the real truth. Many from different ideologies were banding together under the Khomeini banner, in hopes of defeating the monarchy. I didn't know much about the monarchy. I had seen pictures of the King and Queen. They looked regal, and the romantic part of me, day dreamed of meeting the King and becoming a princess. So I guess I had no reason to dislike them. In all my fairy tales I'd never read about an evil King. My only experience with royalty was when the Queen came and visited my school when I was in grade five. We practiced for days to recite the national anthem. It was quite funny cause everyone had to learn the anthem, even the foreign students that did not speak Farsi. On the day of the queens arrival we all lined up in the parking lot of the school to welcome her. When nicety were exchanged we started to sing the anthem. Except that we were lined up in such a way that one side could not hear the other side, so we ended up singing the anthem out of time. It was a bit of a disaster. Later the Queen stopped at every class to say hello and a few select students got meet with her. She seemed very nice and I was in awe of her majesty.
So getting back to my story, it was a shock hearing people talk in such ways about the King. I remember thinking, wow, what a terrible injustice. How my people have suffered. Of course it never crossed my mind that I myself had never felt this injustice. As kids we are so impressionable. I remember this one gathering at our house when one of the guest had brought a tape from Khomeini. Khomeini was in Paris at the time and he would issue out these tapes to fuel the anger of the demonstrators. In this tape he was claiming his divine rights as holy leader to the Iran people. His proof was a demonstration of a miracle. He said that should you open the Koran, preferably and older volume, and you'll find a white hair , his white hair, among the pages, and that some how he had made it appear there. Well all hell broke loose. My Dad did not trust this Khomeini guy. He's an atheist so he saw all clergy as charlatans, and Khomeini was no exception. But his friends would not hear of his disagreements. How could he argue in the face of proof. One guy busily was flipping throught the pages of the Koran looking for the alledged white hair. When he found it he flung it in my Dads face. So what have you got to say about this Ardeshir (my Dad)? I think the look on my Dad's face can only be described as contempt. He turned to his educated friends and said have you lost your mind, lost complete touch with reality? This is a trick. To prove his point he picked up a old volume of poetry, and said I predict that you will find my black hair in this book. And sure enough, there was a black hair. My Dad then laugh at his friends and said, are you blind, can't you see this guy is pulling wool over your eyes. What miracle is this? The Koran is a book that is studied by the elderly in every household, the elderly have white hair and invariably in will fall out. The older the volume is the better the chances of finding that hair. Khomeini didn't perform a miracle he just used the laws of probability to fool you. You could see the doubt in my father's friends eyes, but they were still not backing down. They said he just didn't get it because he had no faith. Some of these same people that were so vehemently pro revolution and Khomeini, were later arrested after the revolution. Some ended up in prison for some time and even a few of them were executed. How naive they all were.