Decisions, decisions ...

A choice was made, a decision was in place, an action took place. It changed my destiny. It was not easy. 

Moving to the United States in 1992 was quite a decision making. Not just by me alone, it involved my whole family, an entire system. Some decisions in life emanate from a structure that we have been born into. Often we make choices while we are not fully aware of the forces behind them, and we later wonder how we ended up where we are today. 

For me to share how I landed here, I need to give a backstory of my family. Starting with the most influential person in my life, my father. He had graduated from a four-year agricultural engineering college in Karaj/Iran. His time in college was unique because it resembled more of a boarding school type of atmosphere. Students studied and lived in the same place for the duration of their education. This gave way to long-lasting friendships. Upon entering the workforce, many of them worked for the Agricultural Educational Center, which comprised every field about the agricultural world. Housing was provided, and eventually, wives and children would become part of this community. Therefore, the sense of family they had experienced back in college continued to define their lives. There was a peculiarity in the strength of these early bonds. In hindsight, I realize now how much those early events and human exchanges impacted me. Many of us remain close and connected to this day.

When I was nine years old, in 1978, Iran’s revolution happened. Consequently,  many of these families ended up moving to the United States. That was not our case; we stayed behind. My parents came from large families; the thought of having to leave Iran and their loved ones was not something that they were ready to face. It would not be till 2007 that my parents would take that leap and move to California. 

I often wondered what kept them there? Was this a family obligation to the elders? Was it guilt for having to leave some of them behind? Was it the fear of not knowing what to expect in a foreign country? Were there other motives? I believe it was a mixture of many reasons that influenced their decision.

My parents kept in contact with some of these friends who moved abroad. One specific family (I will call them the T family) was a very close friend. They owned an apartment right above our unit back in Tehran. Many years went by before Mrs. T made her first visit back to Iran. In one of her visits from the US, she asked me to give her a copy of one of my photos to take back with her (see the attached photo), mentioning that her children would love to see how much I have changed. I was 15 or 16 years old at the time. She visited once more when I was around 20 years old, choosing to spend most of her time with my family and me.

This time, upon her return back to the States, she contacted my parents and told them, “wouldn’t it be wonderful if we became relatives and our kids married each other.” I have two older sisters, which were both married by then, so I was the one she was referring to. I recall my mom being excited about this. On the other hand, a few years later, I found out that my dad was not thrilled about the idea but had opted not to share how he felt about it with me. He did tell my mother, though. Perhaps, this was his way of giving me the freedom to make my own choice. 

Although we remained in contact with some of the families who moved abroad, the details of their lives in the US were unknown to me. My memory was mainly from my younger age and all the parties, travels, and family gatherings we experienced. All these great memories from my childhood were enough for me to decide to meet him. One might call that very impulsive on my side. I knew he was 12 years older than me and had left Iran when he was 17, a few years before his parents did. He had not been back for a visit since. I barely knew this guy (I refer to him as Sonny here). 

Arrangements like this were not uncommon in my time. Our parents planned for us to meet in Turkey. For Sonny to come to Iran was risky since Iraninan men must join the military as soon as they turn 18. Him coming to Iran would have automatically enlisted him. Given the tension between Iran and the US after the revolution, it was not easy for me to travel to the US to meet him. Turkey being the neighboring country to Iran and not requiring Visas for Iranians, was a safer bet for both of us as a meeting place. 

We spent three weeks together in Istanbul; I was chaperoned by both of my parents, and his mother escorted him. We all stayed together in a furnished apartment similar to today’s Airbnb. Istanbul, being a symbol of two cultures, east and west, an incredible buzzing and alive city, was somewhat a reminder of the Shah’s days for me. We walked and talked around the streets. We visited the famous Bazars and some historical sites. I found Sonny to be funny, upbeat, and friendly. It is probably important, but I don’t recall if I was physically attracted to him. Towards the end of our stay, I was falling in love, or perhaps I thought I was. The chaos and excitement of it all, in hindsight, I feel it clouded my ability to understand the magnitude of what this encounter will later bring. Given Istanbul’s geographical location on the world map, where it lies between Europe and Asia, it felt like a right of passage for what was to come, my final migration to the west. 

Come to think of it; it seems a bit naive and crazy to fall in love with a guy I barely knew. Young and innocent I was, lots of red flags, I chose to ignore them all. Did he fall in love with me too? I thought he did. He held my hand when we were alone in the elevator. He kissed my calf as I washed something in the sink, with our parents in the next room. Who the hell kisses somebody’s calf?! I thought to myself; this guy really likes me! It is worth mentioning that was the extent of our intimacy on that trip.

At the end of our visit, we parted ways, us back to Iran, them to the US. It took me nearly two years to finally get a student visa and move here. During that time, we remained in contact only through letters and random phone calls. There was no internet back then, no facetime, even international phone calls were too expensive and considered a luxury. Over time, I started feeling the disconnect between us, yet we still kept it going. Seven or eight months went by before his father came to Iran, this was his first visit back since the revolution. He was very close to my dad, and considered him like his brother. He loved my family and me. He wanted to make sure this marriage was going to happen. He arranged an engagement party for us to make it official. Strangely enough, remaining in the US, Sonny was not part of our engagement party. This party was about announcing to the families that our future union would occur upon my arrival to the US. 

October 17th, 1992, my flight took off from the Mehrabad airport in Tehran. I cried through the entire flight until we landed in Frankfurt for our transit change. My aunt, who was traveling with my mom and me for this part of the trip, witnessed my crying. She was going to visit my cousins in Germany. Before we were landing, she told me if I didn’t stop, people might think I was being kidnapped. Her comment made me smile in the midst of my crying; I realized that I was frozen in the sense of deep sadness, unable to find any words to describe it; instead, tears told the story. All I knew was that I was leaving a familiar life and all of my loved ones for the love that I once felt for a man I barely knew. My tears seemed to have been trying to alert me of something. Perhaps it was the sudden realization of what I thought was love at some point was no longer present. Possibly neither was his love for me. When we arrived at the San Francisco airport, there was no sign of Sonny; only his mom and sister welcomed us. My suspicion was confirmed.

Contemplating all of these early events that marked my present life, I notice that I am now more accepting of what I am constantly creating. At the end of the day, it is not only my creation but also the multi-generational interconnectedness that continues to color and shape all of my present decisions.