At one social gathering, I tried a water pipe (hubble-bubble).
During the two weeks that I traveled over New Year, spring came to Ahar. Fruit trees in the orchards bloomed, the hillsides south of town turned green, and early flowers appeared. Men increasingly spent their evenings strolling on the sidewalks, talking to each other, playing with their worry beads, or walking with their hands behind their backs.
In the fields and orchards near the river Mr. Fakhim and Mr. Kashavarz taught me a simple game that they played with sticks. They found two or three sticks about a meter long and two to four centimeters thick, and one small stick equally thick but only about ten centimeters long. A batter hit the small stick. The other players tried to catch it on the fly. Failing that, they could stand where it fell and attempt to hit one of the long sticks which lay on the ground where the batter had stood. If successful, the thrower and the batter changed places. Sometimes they bet on the outcome of any given toss of the little stick.
Many Iranians loved to gamble. Some played a game using small, white, oblong bones that came from the front foot of a sheep. Each bone had four distinct flat surfaces. Using two or three bones, they wagered on which combination of the sides would face upward when someone threw the bones on the ground. I found boys in my classes with the bones in their pockets and I made a collection of the ones I confiscated. Often as I walked home through the old grave yard behind my house I found a circle of men and boys either playing with the bones or watching a cock fight.
Val and I had a red frisbee and we showed some of the teachers how to use it. After classes we threw the plastic disc around the school yard. Mr. Haddadpor especially liked it but he would never take off his coat or tie when we played. He became skillful at throwing the frisbee, making it form arcs or rise and fall in the currents of wind. He went to far, however, when he borrowed it and took it with him to Na Mous High School and showed some of the girls there how to play with it. The officials at the Office of Education scolded him and told him to stay in the faculty room where he belonged and not introduce any more activities inappropriate for girls.
Children living near Pahlavi often watched us play with our frisbee. They peered over the school wall as we ran around chasing it. Mr. Kashavarz threw it badly one evening and it sailed over the school wall and into the old grave yard where the children ran after it. They threw it back to us and after that we often threw it in their direction. One evening after we stopped and sat drinking tea inside our house we heard the children outside. When we looked out the back door we saw that they had taken metal lids from cans they found the garbage piles near the school wall and started using them like frisbees, throwing them across the old grave yard. Mr. Haddadpor went out and tried to tell them that this could be dangerous, but they continued to throw the sharp edged lids anyway. If one of them ever got hurt I never heard about it.
President Johnson's decision not to run for reelection and to start peace talks in Vietnam became a topic for discussion among the teachers in the faculty room.
"He is saying that the words of your president are happy for us," translated Usef. "But he is thinking that Americans are liking war and that it will not be stopping."
"This one is saying that there is much trouble in the schools of America," continued Usef. "He is saying that they are fighting with the police in every place in your country and making fire in the buildings. This is proving that Americans are liking war."
"Tell him that when I was in Tabriz, I saw the university students there striking and refusing to attend classes. They've been fighting with the police and soldiers. Does this mean that Iranian students like war too?"
"He is saying that this is not being the same thing," said Usef. "It is meaning that they are not liking some things in the government which other strong countries are making us to do."
The teacher chose his words carefully to avoid direct criticism of either the Iranian government or America's role in Iran. But all of us understood what he meant and who he talked about. Old Hotami brought tea and that stopped the comments for a few minutes.
"That one is asking why people in America are making war on the black people who are living there," said Usef between sips of tea. "And the man who is teaching religion is saying that in our religion the Koran is telling us that all men are being the same, even if they are having a different skin. He is asking why Christian people are not believing this thing."
"Usef, tell him that during New Year I went to Bandar Abass. I saw black-skinned Arabs living there. The Iranian people are not letting them go to their schools or restaurants or hammums. They are poor and dirty. Ask him if this is the same as what Americans do to black people."
The comment caused a commotion and each teacher tried to answer at the same time. Finally one emerged as the spokesman, although others added their thoughts and Usef translated as fast as he could.
"He is saying that this is not the same thing. Those who are living in Bandar Abass and in the south of Iran are Arabs and they are wanting to live only with their own people. They are not wanting to go to the schools, and their children are not learning the lessons. These people are not thinking in the right ways of Islam and are having wrong thoughts so they must be going to their own hammums and other places made for them. They are not clever with their money and they are poor because they are foolish. They like to just be standing and looking or fishing and not working. They are not the same as the black people in your country who the American people are saying are the same with everyone. And that man is saying that they are Arabs, and they are different. The other man by the door is saying that Iran and America are not the same thing and that it is not right to be putting the ideas about one next to the other. He is saying that we should be talking only about America and that your ideas are not being the same as the things we are saying."
At one social gathering, I tried a water pipe (hubble-bubble).
For most of April I debated the Vietnam War, American race relations, religion, and American politics with the teachers. They frequently and harshly criticized the United States although almost always indirectly. They saw our problems clearly and they felt sure that we were responsible for most of theirs. If only the United States would leave Iran alone, their troubles would quickly go away. The teachers who leaned to the left thought that the Soviet Union presented the model they should follow, although they said this only quietly and obliquely. Where the Iranian teachers thought that they understood American troubles, their assessment of their own society appeared myopic. It is always easier and more enjoyable to see someone else's adversities than it is to assess accurately and deal with one's own. In that one human trait the Iranians have much in common with everyone else.
Dennis Yates came to Ahar during April and he brought Dr. Nye-Dorry with him so that she could see how Val and I were doing. She attended one of my classes; the second woman to sit in the room with the boys in as many months. And she asked to meet with Mr. Hashemi. Usef, Val, Dennis, and I sat and listened. Dr. Dorry spoke in Persian and Usef translated.
"She is wanting to know why you and Val are having only a few classes that just you are teaching. She is saying that the Americans can teach all of translation, writing, conversation, and reading. And Hashemi is saying some polite things and not giving an answer. She is asking him why they are still making the boys learn translation when they are knowing that conversation is being more important and Hashemi is not saying anything. She is telling him some ways to make the English teaching better and that he should be saying these things to the other principals and teachers."
Dr. Dorry talked and Mr. Hashemi listened and nodded his head and occasionally worked in a 'yes,' or a 'no,' but not much else. Dr. Dorry had lived in Iran for a long time, and she understood the government and its schools and she knew that the men were reluctant to listen to any woman. She stressed her points, emphasizing them to Hashemi who sat uneasily in his chair listening. When he could, he tried to change the subject to the weather or the condition of the road to Tabriz, but she would have none of it.
"She is asking him if the twelfth grade boys are already being gone from the classes," said Usef. "And he is saying that they are working now to study the lessons. She is saying that they walk in the orchards reading and memorizing things that they are not understanding. They are reading Shakespeare and they are not knowing one word in English. Hashemi is not making any answer for her."
When the meeting ended, Hashemi told us that he had to look after some problem, said a quick 'good-bye,' and he left. Usef, Dennis, Val, Dr. Dorry, and I walked through Ahar looking at the bazaar and the main streets. We decided to eat lunch in the restaurant.
When the waiter came to our table he stood quietly staring at Dr. Dorry. She was certainly the first unveiled woman to sit there - and possible the first woman under any circumstances. He appeared uncertain about what to do. She looked up and asked him if he had a particular dish that she wanted. He looked at Dennis and asked Dennis to tell Dr. Dorry that he was sorry, but that they did not have what she requested.
Dr. Dorry tried again, and again the man answered through Dennis. In a slow, direct, and careful Persian, Dr. Dorry looked straight at the man and asked him to tell her directly exactly what he did have available. As he listed the three or four items, he stared up at the ceiling, fumbled with his hands, and alternated between standing on his left or right leg.
We selected between lamb kabob, yellow pea stew, greens stew, and rice. Dr. Dorry ordered the kabob for everyone, and when the waiter said that he had no Seven-up, Dr. Dorry told him to run to the bazaar and get some. He did.
"I'm surprised he has lamb kabob," I said. "Usually they don't."
Val, who ate there often, agreed. "There never is much selection," he added.
From then on, whenever he came to our table, the waiter went directly to Dr. Dorry. When the meal came, it turned out to be yellow pea stew. The man explained that he had made a mistake, and that they had no kabob. He did manage to find Seven-up and smiled broadly when he brought it.
When we finished the waiter came to the table with the bill written on a scrap of paper. He stood hesitating for a moment, and then he handed it to Dr. Dorry.
After lunch we walked around the Sheikh. Dr. Dorry said that she had considered putting a married couple in Ahar, but after talking to Mr. Hashemi and seeing the town, she decided that the site was not ready for an American woman. Putting one in Meshkin before had been a mistake and Ahar would be almost as bad. Then Dr. Dorry and Dennis returned to Tabriz.
Mr. Hashemi sat with me the next morning, drinking tea, and looking out the window at the beautiful sunny day.
"Soon there will be raining again," he said. "But then the summer is coming and you will be returning to your home."
"Did you enjoy your visit with Dr. Dorry?" I asked.
"She is a woman with a strong mind," he said slowly. "When she is talking it is necessary to be listening at every moment. I am thinking that she is more strong-minded than other American women. I am thinking that it is a good thing that she is not living in Ahar."
As if Hashemi's comment brought it, the rain arrived. Heavy, drenching rain poured on Ahar for days. Mud filled the streets, tracked into the school, and covered shoes and pants.
"I hope it doesn't go on like last year," I said to Val. "The roads closed and everything was a mess."
"You are in a good condition," said Usef. "Your roof is newly made, and the rains will not be making it bad. Some of the houses in Ahar are now having problems. You are very lucky."
"I heard it rain all night," I said to Mr. Hashemi in the faculty room. "The thunder and lightening kept me awake. I don't think it stopped even once."
When it rained, the street in back of my house became a mass of mud
On the left, the barrier Mr. Hashemi had put in place to keep boys from sitting on the wall and looking directly into my bathroom.
"It is a most heavy rain," he answered. "It is not being good for the gardens and the flowers because it is being so much. In all of Ahar you are the most happy because your roof is made new just in the winter. You will not be having problems with this rain." "I thought the mud was bad last year," I said to Mr. Haddadpor when we walked through town, "but this is awful. There doesn't seem to be any way to avoid it."
"It is making a great problem for us," he said. "The water of the river is growing and we are afraid that it will be in some houses. In my house there is water coming at just every time and we are making some pots and things under the dripping. You are in a good condition because your house has a fresh roof. You are not having troubles."
Mr. Fakhim and Mr. Kashavarz each complained about the rain that soaked their houses and steady streams that dripped through their mud ceilings.
"Mr. Nowruzdukht is having some accident," said Mr. Kashavarz. "The water is coming into the plastic which they have made over the poles of the roof and they are not knowing it. After many hours so much water is being there on this plastic that it is all falling at one moment, making all of the house wet and the water being on the beds and the carpets. You are having luck as your roof is of a good kind and not old."
Old Hotami and his family moved into the school because his house leaked so badly that it became uninhabitable. Mr. Hashemi canceled invitations to dinner because the heavy rain damaged his ceiling and dripped into his upstairs rooms.
In our house Val and I fought the inundation along with everyone else. Water dripped on my bed and ran down the walls where it puddled on the floor. We used every pot we had and listened at night to a symphony of plinks and plunks. The house grew increasingly damp and musty and the chalk walls showed huge water spots. We never told any of the others how badly our new roof leaked.
About a week before the rain stopped the fathers of four Pahlavi students approached Mr. Hashemi and asked him if they could attend a faculty meeting and talk to the teachers. We gathered together in Hashemi's office and listened. Outside a few villagers drove soggy sheep and donkeys along the muddy road in front of the school. Inside we drank tea, protected by the metal roof that shed the rain.
Usef translated Hashemi's opening remarks. He told the faculty that he wanted to discuss some problems concerning the final weeks of the school year. And he introduced the four fathers who sat together along one side of the room.
"The language teacher is making some polite greetings to the fathers," said Usef. "He is saying that the boys are not having good discipline in every time, and that the vice principal should work with them, and also the parents at their homes. He is saying that many of the boys will not be passing the examinations from the twelfth grade because of this problem."
Two more teachers said about the same thing. Each stressed that the boys should spend more time studying by themselves so that they would pass the tests.
"This one is the father of one of your students," whispered Usef. "He is greeting Mr. Hashemi and the teachers in a polite way. He is saying that the teachers are needing to make more discipline in their classes. He is hearing from his son and the other boys that the classes are very noisy. Some teachers are making only translation of the words in the books [from Persian to Turkish] and they are not explaining the lessons to the boys. And the other father is saying in a very polite way that some teachers are being lazy and not working in their classes."
Old Hotami came into the room and started serving tea. As he moved around past the teachers they realized that there would not be enough cups to go around. Each of the remaining teachers protested that he would go without so that everyone else could have tea. None would take any and Hotami had to leave and find an extra cup so that all could take tea at once. This stretched the tea-break to over half an hour.
"That teacher is talking about Reza Shah High School and he is saying that all of the classes in that place are being stopped so that the boys can be studying their lessons," Usef translated when the meeting started again. "He is saying that because of this the boys there will be doing well in the examinations. He is urging Hashemi to stop the classes at Pahlavi so that the boys in this place can also be studying."
The teachers smiled and nodded in agreement.
Then one of the fathers put down his tea and started talking.
"This one is saying that some of the teachers are not wanting to do the job for which the government gives them much money. He is saying that he knows the teachers in this place are wanting to work very hard and he is saying that in some other schools the boys are not studying, but that they are just standing here and somewhere else making trouble. He is saying that there should be classes until the day of the examinations."
The debate continued for fifteen minutes or more when the door opened and a man I had never seen before came in.
"He is the doctor of the government health office," said Usef. "He is to be looking at the boys in every time to see if their health is good."
"He's never been here since I came last year. When does he look at the boys?"
"He is coming to the school just one time in two years and at that time to another meeting. Then he is taking his money and we are not seeing him."
The teachers and fathers respectfully greeted the doctor who sat next to Mr. Hashemi at the head of the room. Old Hotami brought more tea and a plate of cookies.
"The doctor is saying that the health of the boys is very important and he is saying the things he is doing to make it good. He is saying that it is his job which is very difficult and he is doing this work for many days."
As the doctor talked the door opened again and Mr. Moosavi, Ahar's new Chief of Education came in along with his son. The teachers all stood, and Hashemi rushed across the room and took the chief by the hand, guiding him over to the fathers, and then to the head of the room. The doctor moved over one chair, and Moosavi and Hashemi sat together. The boy, about eight years old, walked over to Hashemi's desk in the corner and sat in the swivel chair behind it.
Hashemi started making a speech greeting the chief but the other teachers and I concentrated on the boy who sat behind Hashemi and his father, out of their line of sight. He spilled tea on the desk top and he used a pile of Hashemi's papers to mop it up. He rocked back in the chair and put his boots up on the desk spattering mud on the remaining papers and all around. Everyone who could see him had trouble not laughing at the mess he made of Hashemi's desk.
"What's Moosavi saying?" I whispered to Usef.
Usef sat stiffly in his chair, his face red as he worked not to laugh.
"He is telling them how he is happy to be working in Ahar. He is not wanting to bother this meeting and he is telling Hashemi and the teachers and the fathers to be ignoring that he is in the room."
Moosavi spoke in Persian, not Turkish, as he came from Teheran. Everyone else switched to Persian also. But nobody paid much attention to Moosavi who babbled on about the fine schools in Ahar and the need to work hard. We watched his son methodically go through all of the drawers in Hashemi's desk, pulling out things and putting them with the muddy papers on top of it or on the floor behind him.
In the last drawer the boy found an old blue and orange neck tie which I had seen Hashemi wear once in a while. Frayed and past its prime, the boy held it at one end farthest from its knot and swung it over his head like a cowboy getting ready to rope a steer. It made a swishing noise that Hashemi heard. He turned around to see what was going on.
The look that froze on Hashemi's face combined horror and disbelief. He set down his glass of tea on the little table in front of him and then stared dumbly at the boy and the ruin of his desk.
Mr. Moosavi, who also turned and looked at his son, rose to the occasion. With a broad smile he looked at the rest of us and said something which Usef translated as, "Isn't this one funny?"
Two teachers who sat near the door made hurried apologies and said they had to leave. Once out in the hall we heard them laugh as they left the school and walked out into the rain.
Mr. Hashemi looked sadly at the rest of us, and then made a feeble attempt to end the meeting, saying that the fathers had said important things, and that he would think about them.
But Mr. Moosavi had other ideas.
"The new chief is saying that there is some money that is collected when there are games of wrestling in the school," translated Usef. "He is saying that on one day that money is being used for buying chickens which the boys are eating. He is saying that this must not be done and that the money must be going to the Office of Education where they are needing it."
Then the chief leaned back and smiled. Hashemi, who spent most of his time watching the boy, thanked everyone for coming. He shook hands with the chief, the doctor, and the fathers, as did the rest of the teachers. Then everyone went home.
Usef and I went out the back door and across the soggy, muddy school yard to my house, laughing and recounting everything that Missive's boy had done to Hashemi's desk.
"The little boy is making my office very uncomfortable," said Mr. Hashemi a day or so later when we talked. "This thing is very bad."
Then he sat quietly drinking his tea and looking out the window at a few villagers as they walked past the school driving wet donkeys loaded with charcoal.
Iranians in Ahar held an attitude toward cheating that differed from mine. They did not condone it, but at the same time they accepted some aspects of it in ways I never understood. As with many other things, they held contradictory opinions on the subject and yet never saw the contradiction.
When the rain stopped late that April I took the accumulation of papers that I had graded and threw them in the trash behind the school where Old Hotami or the other custodians burned debris. Within a few days some of the papers reappeared in class, mistakes sometimes corrected but not always. The boys went through the garbage, picked out papers, and turned them in as their own. When confronted, they saw nothing wrong in what they had done.
Some boys looked openly at the papers of others during tests. With three crowded into one desk the temptation to cheat loomed large. I caught boys with words written on their hands or arms. They put open books on the floor and moved the pages with their feet. All of this I had seen before and frequently. What bothered me was the 'What's-so-wrong?' attitude they displayed when I caught them. And yet other teachers and school officials treated cheating harshly when they discovered it. I had seen that too. Still, cheating, even cheating and getting caught, seemed universal throughout the schools and with it came a kind of acceptance, or at least nonchalance, that I never grasped.
Each year the British Embassy in Tabriz offered refresher classes for teachers in Azarbaijan. Applicants gained entry through an examination and those with the highest scores received scholarships that greatly reduced the tuition fees. Fierce competition among the teachers accompanied the test because exposure to British English and, if lucky, at no cost, carried immense prestige.
"Some of those questions sound familiar," I said to Usef when he told me about the test after he took it.
Then I remembered that about a week earlier one of the teachers at Reza Shah High School had asked me many of the same questions, taking them from a written list he had with him. Usef discovered that the man had gone to the Office of Education and bribed the officials there to let him see the test and copy the questions. Then he asked me to provide the answers. His strategy worked and he became Ahar's representative to the workshop. I told the other teachers that the man had cheated, but met indifference. They ignored or quickly forgot the incident. He had a higher position and more prestige than Usef, he should receive the reward, how he obtained the honor was of no importance, and that settled the matter.
After nearly two years in Iran I never learned to accept the openness of bribery and the cheating. They permeated the governmental bureaucracy and invaded most aspects of the society. Iranians grew up with them and internalized them as the normal way of life. Perhaps I saw it there because I was foreign and I do not see it in my own country as much because I am inured to the forms it takes here. Perhaps in one respect the Iranians are more honest that Westerners in that they do not deny their bribery and cheating where we are likely to repudiate ours. Each culture has learned to live with and face only some aspects of its own reality. Seeing the differences is a large part of culture shock.