In order to be able to take a chewable bite I had decided to limit these pages to the Q & A session that I was asked to perform in the office of the school principal. "What was the significance of this event, anyway?" if you happen to ask, my most honest answer will be the duplex stupidity lain in the entire episode". I had managed to hit my forehead to a stupid power pole that was located in the middle of a sidewalk, not only that but I did it all by myself with no external assistance whatsoever, and if that was not enough I had done it out of a stupid carelessness. My explanation of the crash nonetheless did not seem to satisfy Mr Sho’s strong sense of policing (he was the school principal). I should take you back to the mid-1960s when I was a grade eleven student attending school in Tehran, Iran, where I was born and grew up. However, as I moved forward in reconstructing the details of the story it became clearer to me that without first shedding some light to the context readers may hardly be able to make sense of the story as an isolated case, let alone that the sarcasm is a heavily context-oriented creature. Put it in plain words this particular event as are any event is inseparable from the societal context: time/place, the economic life and culture of general public as well as dominating behavioral trends in boys high schools & even the lingo, and a mention of group-culture, etc.Let me first shed some light on the background. Specifically speaking
1- In the economic arena, Petro-Dollars has not reached the country yet, I shall correct this by saying from the early 1960's there were increments in the country's oil export but just a little and that basically from increased production, believe it or not a barrel of crude oil was sold for about a $US or lower.
It was only in the early-mid 1970s that the governments revenue from oil export reached 9-digit figures( $ billions), with significant effects on the way of life in the country.
2- In the societal sphere, although a slow modernization process had already began decades earlier in Iran but in the mid-1960s still well over % 80 of the population were illiterate (with near to 95% for women), over %75 lived in rural areas, with little if any access to what could resemble a way modern way of life.
The monarchy of Shah's dictatorial regime has fully established his power over the country, and a relatively slow modernization process that had already been started. It is widely believed that President John Kennedy had conditioned the US support of the regime to the adoption of a reform plan that would bring structural changes in the direction of expanding the middle-class. The process of urban sprawl common to many under-developed countries was gaining momentum in Iran as well.
The government modernization plans had resulted in some economic gains as well as migration of illiterate and non-skilled population from rural areas to cities (particularly Tehran). It is true that a minority in the hold of power or bureaucratic apparatus benefitted exceptionally well from the modernization, nonetheless the overall economic indicators indicated positive changes in the lives of Iranians even in the mid-late 1960s.
The grey areas in the cultural areas nonetheless were in the rise. It can be said that the ground for a highly polarized society (or even a war of cultures) was being set.
On the one hand the government media as well as a majority of intellectuals in the press highly publicized an advanced modern (almost Hollywood style) culture. On the other were the majority holding very conservative views of life particularly with regards to the relationship between men and women.
Schools were uni-sex, and building up a relationship between boys and girls was very hard if not impossible in my social context, therefore allowing for much to be imagined in our minds.
Finally the norm in boys high schools was people called each other in last names. This applied to teachers calling each others, a teacher calling a student as well as students among themselves. I remember that we called each other on first names usually after becoming close buddies.
3- I grew up in a mid-low income family of 5 siblings (right in the middle of an older sister and brother and a younger pair). My father migrated from their village to Tehran at the age of 10 the youngest amongst 7- or 8 who left the village to Tehran on foot (that is about 300 miles). He had been the only literate (reading & writing) amongst the group. From then on he had had his ups and downs economically. He married my mother at the time of one of his “ups” at the age of 24, she was 7 years younger. Dad decided (or had to do so) to work as a wage laborer when his last private jewelry shop was bankrupted when I was 2 years old. He worked 2 full-time jobs until he reached the retirement age.
My mom not only the pillars of our own family but the beloved aunty amongst the large extended family. She was known for giving a helping hand wherever needed. Up to my university years I remember usually a son or grandson of this or that uncle or aunt had arrived from the village to live with us until he establishes his own life. My mom always treated the new arrivals as her own and this is for now exchange.
The expenses grew up as we grew up and mother began knitting Persian rugs while taking care of the household work at the same time. Depending on the design and size each rug would take a year or 2 to finish which then she sold to pay for the family’s expenses. Plus each of us children are in the hold of the one rug she specifically knitted for our wedding.
Had not been for her selfless work and sacrifices our family would not have afforded to pay for my university education this is for sure.
About Mr Showghi’s personality
I shall first admit exaggerated talks about the manners of teachers and school staff used to be the single most popular source of senseless chat and giggling among us. I have not been into a high school setting for ages but I assure you that this was true then and there
I wish Mr. Showghi a happy life if alive and may rest at peace otherwise.
Mr Sho (just for the sake of brevity) was from the city of Lahijan in the province of Gilan by the Caspian sea, north of Iran. Territorial jokes about peoples of this or that region or ethnicity of Iran was common at the time. One common theme of the jokes was about how Men from Gilan let their women do the hard work in the field while men sit at the corner store, smoked, chit-chatted and bragged about themselves.
This kind of senseless territorial profiling had certainly contributed to our exaggerated personification of him among us kids since Mr Sho talked in a Gilani accent.
In the smallest number of words
1- He had a strong sense of policing and was a very smart private detector
2- Contrary to others, he did not like giving advices, he only directed us to do the right thing and in order to keep us from doing wrong just for our own benefit.
3- He had an athletically built and huge body size or he would walk as if he was
4- He was known as such not only throughout Lahijan, the Province of Gilan, Tehran School district #2, but in the Ministry of Education, or so he thought.
5- When in our age (in high school) he had been a member to any sport team in the city of Lahijan, or he said so.
On my way to high school
To get to high school I took a bus (about 15 min) from home to the 24th of Esfand Square (called the Revolution Square in the new regime) and from there walked for about 20 min to the school that was very close to Palace Square (changed to Palestine Square). Usually I walked the distance with my friend and long time buddy Sia. We took the sidewalk in front of University of Tehran and changed course towards the north in Anatole France street (don’t know the new name) located right on the eastern border of the campus and finally walked into Takht Djamshid Avenue east wise for 5-blocks. I preferred to take the route from within the campus but this I could only do if the guards at the gate did not happen to ask for a valid university ID.
There were pairs of girls taking the same route to Dr Vali Nasr Girl High School located on Aboureyhan street. The girls parted their way from us on the corner of Aboureyhat and Takht Djamshid, about 2-3 blocks before we get to our school. Don’t get me wrong, we never dared to actually talked to them, I never did anyway. However and especially when alone all sort of imaginative conversation ran in my mind.
On Saturday (Fridays are the weekend) mornings that Sia took an entirely different route I kind enjoyed the luxury of performing my excursions all alone. I’d buy a Keyhan Varzeshi (a weekly sport news paper) and read it on my way. Well to be honest one of the reasons was to pretend that I was interested in sports and a busy person if ever one of the girls happened that I was chasing her, or so I used to think.
It all happened during one of these my imaginative romantic experiences. Somehow I happened to hit my head to a pole and gush it did hurt. Stars were zigzagging and dancing out of my brain a few second after the impact, while I was trying hard not avoid from falling down on my butt. I only remembered that a lady of my mom’s age came to me, gave me a napkin to wipe out my nose, helped me get to the restroom of the faculty of Literature (of University of Tehran) to clean up the mess and give massage to my swelling forehead, walked me out of the university and advised me not to read things while walking.
Well the problem that an eggplant was growing up right in the middle of my forehead wasn’t as important as thinking about telling others how I managed to create it in the first place. The family was not the hardest, after the initial harsh reaction my mom would be busy finding something to sooth my pain…
My buddy’s at school? Well amongst the well established culture amongst us was that as soon as one of them opened up his mouth to say “how..” the other would jump in to deliver a 15 minutes detailed story about how incident happened. One very common theme for making fun of the subject would go as “He was trying to call the neighbor girl from the small opening of the yard door, the girl’s brother shut the door and fucked the hell out of him. “ and to make the story sound more funny he would go “stupid boy he is not an scorpion he would not bite your sister right?”
Teachers also were going to ask about my forehead, either out of concern or just pushed into it by one of the boys on my right or left side who just were looking for a way to avoid hearing one more math, science etc lessons from the teacher. The response would also come from yet another buddy on the opposite side of the classroom who would apply all his comic imagination to put together all he has already heard about the incident to create a more entertaining version.
But the real problem came when Mr Sho the caring principal would come up with his concluding version of all these stories.
I was summoned to Mr Sho’s Office the next Saturday morning by Mr Nemati (we kids did not brand him amongst the good service-crew category).
Hello dear Ayni, Mr Shoe greeted me as soon as I was walked into his office by Mr Nemati
