The Ayatollah of Oz

A fast-paced conversation was brought to a halt as the car's wheels went over the corpse of a dog, the disgusting crack of bone snapping could be heard and a silence took over. Night had set in, we were on our way to Qom and struggling to keep up with the second car in line we had no time to swerve or stop. To my left my cousin's friend Majid's eyes filled with tears. We eventually reached Qom.

The Vatican is to Italy as Qom is to Iran. But the city is dirty. Scattered about the city are mosques lit up like Oz with emerald green lights. Since the majority of the inhabitants are impoverished there is an abundance of motorcycles, and since, for the prevention of terrorist attacks, motorcycles above 200 cc's are illegal the city sounds as if it's being besieged by African honey bees. Mullahs walk around calmly in the open, women especially cautious of wearing their hijab loosely and vendors sit barefoot on the street beckoning passerbys to purchase their products in between the crack of sunflower seeds between their teeth. Women with reversed hijabs, their seams visible to the eye, beguile the police with their hidden symbol of prostitution.

We stayed at my uncle's father's cattle ranch. The gated land held fifty female cows separated into catagories: children, ready to mate, pregnant, ready to milk, milk expended and troublesome. An poverty-stricken family sat on a rug resting in the shade before getting up to work the ranch.

My uncle's father had surpassed the ninety-year mark, he wore yellow and red striped pajama bottoms and a white wifebeater that hugged his decrepit torso revealing the pale white of his arms. His eyes emoted sadness and compassion and in the latter stretch of his life he found refuge in silence.

His three sons were feuding over a parcel of land, one having outwitted the others by exploiting wisdom's tendency to numb one's odyssey towards possession. My uncle repeated, "I don't even care about this, it's trivial!" and his father just sat and listened.

My mother told him a story: A father planning ahead decides to give his land to one of his three sons. He calls the eldest child to his room and says, "Son, you are the oldest and wisest, the land belongs to you when I die. Here is a key that will open a safe holding the deed to the land." The next day he calls in the middle child and says, "Son, your older brother has his head too far in the clouds to see and your younger brother has his head too far in the dirt to see as well. Here is a key to a safe holding the deed to the land, but you may only open it after I die." He then calls in the youngest, flatters him as well and gives him a key. For the next month the three son's become exceptionally benevolent and kind towards their father, and at the month's end the three become impatient. A week or so later all three sons find their selves at the safe, all keys in hand, furious that the other brothers had keys as well. They decided to open it to see what's in it. On opening it they find a leg of lamb and a note that says, "God damn the man who wills his possessions prior to death!"

The only time my uncle's father laughed was after hearing that anecdote.

The day sped by. We played cards, an illegal act in Iran, and, as a consequence of losing a card game, Mehrdad had to paddle himself across a mucky quagmire-esque pond in a tin tub. My cousin and another friend conspired to spin him in the tub and on doing so the tub tipped. Mehrdad grasped the eldge of the pool and struggled to get out dry. Wet from the hips down and with a flare of vengeance burning in his eyes, he grabbed a fully clad family friend and pulled him in. A scuffle broke out, eventually ceased and the day came to and end. As the sun began to set we headed back to Tehran.

Seconds after pulling out of the ranch three soldiers clad in army green outfits stopped the car, asked the driver to get out of the car and open his trunk. Another soldier stuck his head in the car, pointed at a green bottle and said, "Is that Shom-pahyn?" Majid retorded that it was water and offered some to him. They eventually, and disappointedly, let us go and we were on our way.