By Pirooz Jafari

Pirooz Jafari: “Every day presented a new threat and a new hurdle.”Credit:Mardi Hirst

When you are young, you are constantly told by adults to do better, to think about what lies ahead. They say that early childhood learning shapes and paves the path for future development and success. But what about the other thousand and one factors throughout your early years that pull you this way and that?

Remembering my own early years in Iran, I have vivid memories of being reminded to study hard and aim high. My parents, both teachers, never settled for average academic results. Excel in schooling so you can become somebody, my parents would say, meaning a doctor or an engineer. Sometimes my mind wandered on a quest to create its own ambitions, much to their disappointment.

It was all going well until I was eight, when the Islamic Revolution happened. As the catastrophe unravelled, each day threw daggers at my aspirations and those of my parents. For the next 17 years, every day presented a new threat and a new hurdle. As soon as we came up for air, we were pulled back to the depths of fear and helplessness.

Australia, so unfamiliar, so far and so vast, allowed me to breathe freely, to exist once more.

Waiting for each storm to pass, I’d look at my parents and see their will for me to survive, to become that somebody. We were frequently shaken either by the sound of bombs or missiles during the Iran-Iraq war or the news of someone close being arrested for something they had not done. Despite all of that, my parents would push the books in front of me and remind me of the task ahead. Never mind the chaos outside, my parents would say. I’d search my soul for remnants of our hopes and dreams, to no avail. Dreaming big when one’s mere existence is at the mercy of explosions or the regime is near impossible. The whole idea seemed absurd.

Throughout those years, my ambition somehow survived. Often, all that I wished for was just to live another day, to see the family home once more; and to play in the snow one more winter. Other times, I would see myself sitting the-end-of-school exams, and then university exams.

I imagined becoming a photographer, under a regime that had eradicated all forms of art and had wiped out all traces of creativity and talent. Then I would remember that there was no room for expression, that it was not allowed. Eventually, my ambition mustered all its force and took me to the other side of the planet to continue my studies and to live a free life. Australia, so unfamiliar, so far and so vast, allowed me to breathe freely, to exist once more. For the first time in nearly two decades, my ambition was able to stretch and explore the newfound soil. It was a strange feeling.

The cover of Jafari’s Forty Nights.

Since then, I have had to pinch myself to make sure that this has not been a dream. Looking at the bright blue skies would startle me, after so long looking at dark clouds, eyes watching, ears listening, bombs falling. Dipping my feet in the ocean, I return to here and now, though my ambition is still ready to take shelter.

I have found myself living a dual existence. When I look in the mirror, I see the two faces of a life I have grown to know. One that is overshadowed by fear and apprehension and one that offers reassurance and hope. Some days, the past takes hold and makes a mockery of my ambition. Other days, the present leads me to that place where there is no reason to fear, no need to hide. That’s when I put my suitcase down and get ready to tell my story to the world, all of it.

Pirooz Jafari is the author of Forty Nights. He takes part in Ambition: A Night of Storytelling at the Athenaeum on September 10 for the Melbourne Writers Festival.

The Age is a festival partner and is pleased to offer a 20 per cent discount on tickets for Age subscribers.

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