My Life in Short Stories: 5. Fears Rush In

On September 22, 1980, to everyone’s horror, the radio and television news in Tehran was all about the bombardment of Tehran Mehrabad Airport and a few major air bases in other cities of Iran by the Iraqi forces. In other words, the Iran – Iraq war had officially begun.

Tension was increasing in Iran by the hour and people were worried about the on-going war which was impacting our day to day life. The supermarkets were short of food items and people were buying a lot of canned food and other supplies for storage purposes.

I was distraught and fearful of not being able to get us all out of Iran in order to protect my children from the consequences and devastation of war. Now that the airport was destroyed, I had to find other means with which to leave so I started to explore my options.

My travel agency informed me that I could take a bus to Turkey which would take me from Tehran to Istanbul through Ankara and from there I could take a plane to Paris. I would however, be on the road for a total of four days and three nights with no stops except for getting gas and bathroom breaks. I was also forewarned that the road may be dangerous and unsafe and that the possibility existed that we would be mugged, stripped naked, or worse.

I was terrified of the option before me, but losing my children to war terrified me even more. It was either my life or theirs which is a no-brainer for a mother. After securing the safety of my children through their Dad and my family and friends I left Tehran for Turkey by bus in November 1980. I was driven by hopes of securing a job overseas and getting my children out of Iran. My sister was a university student in France and I had a few other friends in Paris so I knew I would have support if I just get there safely.

The bus was almost full and there were two drivers who took turns driving the bus. The passengers were mostly men and no one was interested to break the silence with conversation. Tea and coffee was available and we bought our own food and snacks on the road as needed when we stopped for breaks. I got through the trip by focusing on my ultimate goal and what I needed to do in the days and weeks ahead. As promised it took us four days and three nights to reach Istanbul. We arrived in the afternoon and everyone was exhausted. I hailed a taxi right away and asked the driver to take me to the Istanbul Hilton. I had never been to Turkey before but somehow I knew that going to a well known hotel would be the safest thing to do.

Istanbul, Turkey

Istanbul Hilton

I checked into the hotel and informed the concierge of my flight to Paris scheduled for the next evening. My room was on the top floor and as I went to pull the curtain to prepare for bed I was stunned by one of the most beautiful sceneries of the world from my window. My room was overlooking the famous Bosporus Strait which forms part of the boundary between Europe and Asia. Most of that trip is a blur but that scenery was so breathtaking that I still carry that image in my mind after all these years. I then went to sleep and was so tired that I did not wake up until the afternoon of the following day. That evening I took the flight to Paris as planned.

Paris Eiffel Tower

Paris Seine River

In Paris I was following the news of the war regularly and I spent a lot of time searching for international jobs, sending resumes and completing job applications. I registered at a French language center to sharpen my skills and at a local university to pursue my post-graduate studies in order to qualify for better jobs.

The news of the war was horrifying, we were hearing about thousands of casualties on both sides. It was in the news and it is documented that the Islamic regime of Iran had started its “rapid mobilization of young volunteers” program in order to encourage young Iranians to carry out human wave attacks on Iraqi positions in expectation of martyrdom. They used the children, some as young as eleven, to run into mine fields and clear the way for the regular soldiers behind them. This resulted in severe casualties of young volunteers and the suffering of many families.

A Young Iranian Volunteer

At that time my son was thirteen years old and my daughter was eight. I was extremely worried about their future. I then got the news that the father of my children and my own father, along with many others, had been arrested by the revolutionary guards and are being questioned for their alleged association with the Shah’s regime. They were both released after a few months but our families suffered a lot.  We later heard that during their incarceration in separate cells they could hear from the other side of their cell wall that prisoners much like themselves were being assassinated daily. They never knew whether they would be next.

One day, while I was anxiously looking through my mail in anticipation for a job offer, I came across a few positive responses one of which was from the World Health Organization (WHO). Their job offer was to work with a health manpower development project in Jakarta, Indonesia.  It was at that moment that I knew I was one step closer to my goal which was to bring my children out of Iran and away from danger. I was thrilled!!

Jakarta, Indonesia

A few weeks later, I learned that the Tehran airport had been renovated and flights to Iran had resumed. I made a reservation right away as I was eager to see my children and my family again. While in Tehran I assessed the political and living situation one more time and I became more convinced and determined than ever about my decision to leave Iran with my children. I accepted the job offer from the WHO and left Tehran for Paris again towards the end of 1981. I promised my children that I will send for them as soon as I began work.

With my Children in Tehran

In July 1982, after completing my interviews and employment procedures in Geneva and Washington D.C., I reported to the WHO Regional Office in New Delhi, India for briefing before going to the country of my assignment - Indonesia. Furthermore, in a letter to the World Health Organization, I explained my children’s situation in Iran and I requested WHO’s assistance in facilitating their exit so that they could join me in Indonesia.

With my Children in Indonesia

After two long months of anxiously waiting and praying that my son wouldn’t be drafted to war as a young volunteer, my children finally joined me in Indonesia and my heart was filled with joy and gratitude.

Behrad and Lily in Jakarta

Saying goodbye to their father was heart wrenching however, given that they didn’t know when they would see him again. Little did we know then, that it would take ten long years for that to happen because he had been black listed by the government and was forbidden to leave the country.



To be continued…….

My Life in Short Stories: 4. The End of My Fairy Tale

The late 70s was a period of turmoil and political unrest in Iran and for me, a time of personal and emotional challenges. In the early 70s I was happily married, had two wonderful children, and had a full-time teaching job at a university. Unfortunately my fairy tale marriage came to an end after eleven years when I learned of my husband’s extramarital affairs. After that I could not establish or maintain any successful relationships and when I look back now I would like to think that everything happened for a reason and the reason had to do with the future of our children.

After 1975 I got heavily involved in reading and listening to political conversations that were going on around me. There were talks of revolution and in the university where I was teaching the faculty members were engaged in heated discussions and we soon came to learn about everybody’s political orientation. My so-called leftist colleagues were clearly pro revolution because they were sure that the fruits of the movement will fall into their hands and of course they were wrong.  The rest of us were fearful of the unknown and the women in particular did not want to lose their freedom or to be forced to cover themselves from head to toe in the name of religion.

I did not come from a religious family and even though I had seen my grandmother and my aunt pray, I was never forced to practice any religion. But I believed in God and I respected people with all religious convictions and backgrounds. As a young girl I read in a book of spirituality that I can pray or ask for help from Saints of all religions and I liked that idea. I remember being a member of the Christmas Choir when I was a student at the American University of Beirut and I enjoyed singing for patients in the hospitals during the Christmas Holidays.

My paternal grandparents were journalists and my grandmother wrote about women’s right to education, changing marriage laws and veiling. She was among the first women who took off her veil when the women were given the freedom to do so during the Shah’s father’s reign. She published her magazine in the 1920’s and was violently opposed by religious groups. She finally was forced into exile and had to run for her life.

My grandmother Fakhrafagh Parsay

My grandfather Farrokhdin  Parsay

My aunt who was my role model and had helped me change my life as a teenager, was the fourth child in her family and was born when my grandmother was in exile. She was a medical doctor and an educator by profession. She wrote in her diaries “Most Iranians in the age group of 20-50 know me well because I have been a teacher, a school principal, and the vice minister of education for several years. I was the first woman to become a member of parliament and the first woman to become the Minister of Education”.

My Aunt Dr. Farrokhrou Parsay
The Minister of Education

In January 1979 which was the peak of political unrest in Iran the Shah and the Queen left the country and their leaving was followed by the return of Khomeini from exile and the formation of an Islamic government. Almost everybody’s name was in the government’s black list and many were trying to escape the country in one way or another. A lot of people including a few of my own relatives were arrested and then released after a few months.

It was a hot spring day in Tehran in the post revolution year of 1980. I was in the car with my children and when I turned on the radio to listen to the two o’clock news, to my horror, I heard that the Government has executed my aunt who was in prison for no reason other than being the Shah’s Minister of Education. She had already retired from her position seven years prior.

They did this on Women’s Day to teach all women a lesson. I was devastated and I could not stop crying while I was aimlessly driving around town in absolute disbelief and sorrow. My aunt whom I adored and was like a mother to me, was gone now and there was nothing I or anyone else could do.

My Aunt and My Mother in Their Young Age

It is documented that in that period of time more than 120,000 people including the Prime Minister, Cabinet Ministers and others were executed by firing squads without trial and due process and in violation of Human Rights standards.

A short time after the execution of my aunt by the Islamic government, my grandmother, who could not deal with her sorrow any more, died and soon after, I lost my mother to cancer while she was being treated for it in France.

On those days I could only think of one thing and had only one goal in mind and that was to leave the country, to find a job and to save my children.



To be continued…..