destiny away from homeland

In pursue of destiny away from your homeland

October 1978 - The unusual, scorching heat and humidity of August let up a little. The chirping sound of cicadas in the breezy evening air carried the promise of crisp, cool days ahead. I was finally convinced that Japan is not indeed in a tropical zone. But for me, there was no time to try to enjoy these pleasant signs of the advent of autumn. By now I knew for sure that I could not go back home; the honeymoon was over and I needed to come up with plans to tackle the rough road that lay ahead.

Visa and work, seemingly, the lifeline for those who cannot live in their homeland for reasons beyond their control became the two most essential aspects of my life, like water and electricity for city dwellers. Depending on where one is born and where one ends up living, these lifelines of visa and work can grow into a source for anxiety, insecurity, and ,at times, unhappiness.

This is the true story at a stage in my life when I could use my potential, energy, and opportunities to pursue a career and possibly enjoy life. If destiny takes you to a foreign land to spend the rest of your life, you would need permission to work and for that you must prove your skill is needed to obtain the permit, a daunting task, not unlike Mission Impossible. I did not expect much. I just needed social security, something I don’t have up to this moment despite the fact that I have passed retiring age but cannot think of quitting work. I don’t have a pension I can depend on. My monthly pension from the government is not enough to survive on for a week, even if I live frugally. Throughout my working age, I worked as hard, if not harder, than my husband. Nonetheless, he has a pension that he can depend on in his old age but I don’t. I have no other choice but to depend on him financially. This kind of antiquated system still exists in the 21st century where women should look upon the mercy of her husband for livelihood. If I don’t want to depend on my ‘dannasan’, literally meaning my master, I will need to work until the last breath if, God willing, I can stay healthy. This is partly because of Japan’s social security system and partly due to the conditions I was compelled to work within.

October 1978 - Changing visa status

First, I needed to change my visa status. I was told at this point getting a working visa was impossible. Among various types of visa offered by the government, there was one for foreigners who were interested in Japanese culture, also known as a “cultural visa”. It was good for two years, to be renewed every six month. I opted for this, not that I had any other options! I went to Korea to change the status of my visa, quite surprisingly, without any trouble.

Among the requirements, one was to have a Japanese sponsor. A kind Japanese man offered to be my sponsor. I had not yet even met him; he extended his offer through a friend. He was a prominent journalist, working for a prestigious newspaper company. In fact, at the embassy the officer in charge told me I had a solid sponsorship and enquired how we were related. I explained that we believed in the same religious Faith. I am sure my credible sponsor was an important factor in the visa procedure. To be eligible, of course, I had to enroll at a cultural school in two areas. One reason I was attracted to Japan was the unique art of flower arrangement, called Ikebana. I thought this as good opportunity and gladly picked out Ikebana. The other was pottery, for which I had no experience nor interest. I just had to take it to qualify for the said visa. I was also aware I needed to learn Japanese even if I was going to stay short while.

Foreigners with this kind of visa are allowed to work a few hours a week. Although I desperately needed work, I did not apply for the permit thinking I would leave soon. Nevertheless, I started looking for a job and , at about the same time, started to learn about the hurdles life throws at you.

The Honeymoon

The first few weeks of my stay in the Land of Rising Sun was like a honeymoon. Every day was filled with excitement, and at times, as it is true with any relationship, with shocking discoveries too. It started from the very first night that I was stranded at the airport due to lack of communication causing me to miss my connecting flight to Osaka. It ended when I realized that I had to extend my stay here for the foreseeable future.

I was fascinated by new revelations every time I took a tour of the city. People, as most tourists would agree, were kind and polite. The politeness, that had no limits, was revealed not only in behavior but even more so in language. For example, the prefix‘o’ or ‘go’ that needs to be added to some words in reverence to the person you are talking to show respect. This, in fact, is one of the most difficult parts of learning  Japanese because if you don’t use it correctly, you will end up being overly-polite to yourself. That does not demonstrate modesty and humbleness required in relationships and it is quite embarrassing.

"Sumimasen, enpitsu made", once I was asked by a man at the public phone who needed a pen to write down something. This might simply be translated as, “Excuse me, could I use your pencil for a second”. However, there is a deeper meaning in those three words that lies at the heart of the speaker’s intent that to this day it is still an enigma to me. ‘Sumimasen’, can be used as an expression for apology, like ‘I am sorry’ or ‘Excuse me’. But, the cultural connotation is phenomenal. It means gratitude for receiving something I don’t deserve, and a sense of guilt for causing you the inconvenience that never stops. Is this kind of attitude- one of the most important social values in Japan- necessary for a harmonious relationship, ? Sometimes even more essential than justice or the truth. Little I knew about Japanese language at that time, I was delighted to understand the subtlety of this expression because I had just learned it in my Japanese class a few days earlier. What the man was actually communicating was: “I am sorry to inconvenience you to the point that I need to ask you to lend me your pencil for a second”, so much in just three words, huh! I lent him my pencil with an admiring smile.

Sometimes, I want to pat myself on the shoulder for surviving without undue hardship all these meticulous and strict traditional practices expressed in spoken language. Only, heaven knows, how frequently and how many people I have hurt with my language gaffes. Here I would like to say to all those people “Sumimasen!”

I was truly overwhelmed with helpfulness of people. "What is the way to the post office", I had enquire once. Even in this small daily life routine the Japanese demonstrated their national trait, the spirit of helping each other in time of need, volunteerism or the importance of consultation. Another passer-by stopped by and tried to help. And soon it was turning into a small crowd to guide this foreigner who seemed to have been lost. The helpful crowd had consulted each other as for the best way possible to the post office saying to each other ‘Desuyou ne’, right? When they realized I don’t understand any of their words and wild gestures, it was decided that one of them accompany me all the way to the post office.

When I was talking about this with another foreigner, she related this story. She was home-staying with a Japanese family, and just like me, she was truly touched by the heart-felt affection the family was constantly rendering to make her stay in Japan as comfortable and pleasant as they could. She wanted to show her gratitude to the family in some ways. She was still trying to figure out how to show it but to no avail. Then one day, she accidentally caused fire in her room on the tatami mat (Japanese room-flooring) which is easily burnable. The frantic host mother rushed into the room to see what had happened. My friend, still in disbelief, continued saying, even then, the host mother, struggling between whether calling the fire department before it was too late, or trying to contain the fire by herself, had a smile on her face. Fortunately, the fire was put out in time damaging only the tatami mat. That smile, she went on to say, was the heaviest smile she had ever felt in her heart. the smile made her even more ashamed; she said it would have felt better if the mother slapped her on the face at that moment. Iranians are also very kind to visitors and guests. In fact there is a saying that a guest is God’s friend. Sometimes comically Iranians are told they kill you with their kindness. I thought it is not so comical; this is how one can kill you with kindness.

I never tire strolling down the shopping avenues looking at the brightly-lit stores with orderly-arranged showcases. The sales clerks seemed to never tire of smiling at customers. The exquisite services made shopping such a pleasant activity it makes you want to shop even more (which is actually the purpose of the service). The best of all was elevator attendants who take the term ‘taking your job seriously’ to a new level. First you enter the elevator, the attendant who closely resembles a 747 uniformed flight attendant, greets you so cheerfully that you cannot help but smile back. With extreme professional courtesy, she announces all the stops she will be on her one directional ascend, while professionally gesturing at the floor guide also giving the necessary warning of what to do in the event of emergency.

The visit to Shinsaibashi Shopping Arcade was everything the bazaar of my hometown lacked. It did not have the exotic architectural design of a bazaar, but the orderliness and the Japan-like oriental beauty was quite impressive. Ironically, I was missing the hustle and bustle of the street merchants, the vitality with the shouts of shopkeepers inviting customers to come in. One thing, in downtown Osaka that I found conspicuously different from Tehran’s streets, was how easily accessible were the nightclubs, drinking bars, and the shops where they were selling what were called adult toys.

The visits to the cultural city of Kyoto and the historical city of Nara reminded me of Esfahan and Shiraz in Iran. Interestingly, even the Japanese spoken in Kyoto sounded similar to Persian spoken in Esfahan in its sweet, charming accent.

Each temple in those cities had its own historical or cultural story. The tranquility of the gardens would give you peace of mind and make you ponder upon divinity, the spiritual world, and the philosophy of man and his relation with nature. With all of these spiritual beliefs, interwoven to daily life, so deeply that it becomes part of culture and tradition, it made me wonder why people think that they don’t believe in God or a religion.

One of the things that surprised me in those temples was to find the stone statues considered to be deities. There were many; for children, pregnant women, business, and so on. The one for women who cannot get pregnant was particularly interesting. Every object you could see in the temple was the shape of a male’s genital organ. At the end of the tour of this unique temple, when we thought we had seen everything there was to see, we decided to sit down for an after-tour of Japanese tea and cake called ‘omanju’. A friend went to pick up a box of cake from the souvenir shop. When he returned and opened the box, when we saw the shape of the cakes, we realized that we need to look around some more. Some statues in another temple were wearing caps and bibs. I asked about it and was told the cap was for keeping the stones warm so as not catch cold, and the bib was for drooling!

At another visit to a temple, I noticed a car with all the four doors open.  A Buddhist priest was holding a stick with shredded papers attached to the tip, like a duster; he was swaying it over the car and saying something, a prayer or magic words maybe! Baffled with this unfamiliar scene, curiously, I enquired as to the meaning of this. The explanation was that he was blessing the car and driving the evil of accidents away. Apparently, for some, the civil insurance was not enough and they wanted to have God’s insurance as well in order not to have any accidents in the first place.

This kind of superstitious belief surprised me very much; I found it paradoxical in a country so advanced in science and technology. After all, I realized that Japan, similar to Iran, is an oriental country, and unlike its western counterparts, these kinds of beliefs still exist.

I was enjoying my days like this then suddenly I realized the holiday was over.

Iran's situation in 1978

1978 - Iran’s situation

When I was preparing to leave Iran, there was political turmoil and social unrest that had already begun years before, reaching a climax in 1977 on different fronts, slowly pulling the nation toward revolution.

Just a week before my departure, on the 19th of August 1978, there was a horrifying terror attack in the southern city of Abadan. A movie theatre, the Cinema Rex was set on fire. All the doors were mysteriously locked making it impossible for anyone to escape. Nearly 500 innocent civilians were trapped, burnt alive. The carnage happened in the hottest month, in one of the hottest cities. According to the chief-of-police’s account, the scene would remind you of the gas chambers of Hitler. The opposition groups and the ruling government were pointing fingers at one another, accusing the other of the heinous attack. The brutalities that the Shah’s secret police, SAVAK, were inflicting on people in those days to suppress the uprising that was gaining momentum day by day, like a rolling snowball, made it hard for people to dismiss these accusations by the opposition groups. Later, it was considered to be a pivotal event that triggered the revolution. And, in my view, the events that occurred following the revolution cleared the air for many as to who was the real culprit on that fateful day.

Despite all this, nobody, myself included, could have imagined it would be living through days leading up to the impending moment of a sudden and drastic change of regime. I did not say farewell nor resign my job. Instead, I began a two-month summer break and planned to come to Japan for a short visit.

Occasionally, whenever I think back to that summer, I can’t help but wonder if, on that day of departure while hugging my mother good-bye, I knew somehow that this would be the last time ever to hug her, that I would never see her again, or even be able to go to her funeral. Indeed, if I had known what was to come would I have acted differently?

Within a short period of my arrival in Japan, the political events taking a turn for worse in Iran, made me realize, bitterly, it was becoming impossible for me to return home, at least, for a while.  The only road ahead was to stay on in Japan and see how the situation in the Middle East would develop. I was unprepared for these sudden changes, and for the unfolding events that followed. In truth, I felt this new country was not ready for me, either.

Tehran School of School Work

The founder-director was a princess, on her father’s side, from the Qajar dynasty (the dynasty toppled down by the Reza Shah of Pahlavi dynasty). She studied social work in the U.S., and was amazed by their social system and values that she found greatly different from Iran. She believed in opportunities for all and the rights of minorities. Upon returning home, she was resolute in implementing some of those the ideas in Iranian society when she decided to open the School of Social Work.

Iran was facing many social problems in the 50’s and 60’s, with poverty on the top of the list; a problem that emanated from ignorance because of high rates of illiteracy, more than 50%, politically-motivated religious ideologies, fanatical beliefs that were basically institutional doctrines rather than spiritually-orientated, and corruption in the system. She was determined to tackle these problems by helping the needy.

When selecting personnel for the school, she promoted minority rights and diversity. Being a Baha’i, and having graduated in the Philippines, I was hired on the first interview. I think she believed that with my background, I could contribute something constructive to school. Because of that, I tried not to fail her expectations during my two year-work. I also wanted to make a contribution to the development of my country.

The school was located in the posh area in northern part of Tehran. The view from my office window, with plantain trees that had turned really magnificent as they aged, lining each side of the street, were comparable to the renowned Champs-Elysees of Paris. I will never forget the not-so-large but beautiful campus, with the fresh-green willow leaves moving gently to the breeze of the warm days of the spring, ornamented with the sweet fragrance of roses in their bed, the shade of pines and cypresses in hot days of the summer, and the serenity that snowflakes bring to the air in the winter.

I joined the workforce at a time when the government was involved in the shake-up of its resources to make Iran more like European countries. The wife of the late Shah, the then-Empress Shahbanoo Farah, was strongly involved in cultural and social affairs as the economy was moving astronomically at a breakneck speed. So along with economic progress, they were trying to see to it that as many people as possible had a share in this progress. As a result, social work and social welfare institutions were quite busy.

My job included being an assistant to a professor who was teaching sociology in relation to the rapid economic development of Iran which was shifting from an agricultural base to a manufacturing industry. The attractive job opportunities, and urban conveniences of city life, especially in Tehran, drew many villagers to relocate to big cities, abandoning their farms. The professor, in his lectures, as I recall, warned about the risks of the economy that heavily depended on its oil revenue, which had soared with the oil shock of 1973, and imported many basic necessities, such as food. To ensure students understood these issues, for example, the professor explained: “Suppose foreign countries decide to stop selling us cheese; should this happen, then what should we put on our bread?” (Cheese and bread together with delicious grapes of all kinds are the three basic staple foods in Iran that everyone could afford). In Japan, this would be like eating onigiri, rice-balls, with nothing in it, or in Italy, pizza with no cheese on it. Still a novice, to help prepare me to teach classes on my own, my superior arranged for me to give a lecture on social welfare topics one day. All I remember of the day is how nervous I was.

Another part of my job was to supervise third- and fourth-year students who needed to intern in the field to complete their undergraduate program. These first few months, I accompanied another supervisor before beginning to supervise my own students. These students were involved in a variety of welfare activities, including case work and community work which were decided based on research work the students conducted prior to implementing programs to meet identified community needs. For example, they were engaged in activities such as creating recreation centres for the large youth population from low-income families who had nothing to do during the long, hot summer vacation other than hanging out with friends or playing soccer in back allies. In addition, literacy programs, job-training sessions, and family planning to young mothers were offered.

Both summers on faculty, I took part in a 3-day training camps to prepare students for field work in which they visited rural areas to assist needy groups within these communities where the government could not or did not get involved.

Although not part of my duty, I was engaged in the translation work of foreign articles from social work and other related magazines. Social work was a relatively new field in Iran so there was a severe lack of reference materials or professional literature.

Typically, Iranian students are enthusiastic learners at institutions of higher education. They are demanding of their professors and expect them to be knowledgeable. I had just returned from abroad and was not very familiar with the work environment in Iran, where little consideration is given to someone who is inexperienced and needs to gain skills as they begin working in the field. This made my job difficult, but I am not someone who gives up easily. I tried to look as authoritative as I could to students, but in a friendly manner.

Then, during my second year, which was a promising one by all accounts, I decided to come to Japan for a visit!