I'll be taking a trip back home next month.
Usually the first questions that my friends or colleagues at work ask me is if I am excited. The truth is that I am too busy and too tired to be excited, or even to think about my feelings. Also I have seen a pattern in my life, which has taught me to live at the present and not to think too much about an upcoming event. But there is also another thing. It may be a sad fact, but it is real and it exists...I don't miss my country.
I miss my family and my friends, but not the city or the country, and this is an upsetting reality.
I was in denial for so long, and it took me a long time before I could accept it. Accepted that I have so many bad memories and have seen so much unkindness from there, that all those stories and movies about the person who goes back after a while to his/her homeland and at the first step, bends over and picks up a handful of soil and smells it and then emotionally whispers "home, sweet home", bring a bitter smile to my face.
I am not talking politics. I am talking about my personal experiences. Although I know that somewhere deep, my roots are still Iranian, but at the same place deep down, I also have lots of hidden pains and regrets. I just know that I will have a lot to think about and to analyse...I'll do my best to be hopeful and optimistic.
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3 comments:
Dear Nava,
It's so interesting to find another person that shares the same feelings! I don't generalize, but I also had so many unpleasant and terrible memories from my childhood and young adulthood that I don't miss the country.
Unfortunately you really embarrassed me. You are a genuine pessimist.
Roohe Ashena,
I always wonder what people really mean when they use the phrases like "going back home", or "homeland"?
I am very aware of the words that I use, for example to sign "love" at the end of every email...what would that say exactly about the word "love"...or to use the word "home" so carelessly?
In my set of belief words have power beyond imagination…so why use them with no awareness?
The day that I was leaving my mother land, deep down in my heart I knew I am not going to miss it. I think I hide it well even from myself for a while...
I knew I will miss Tehran‘s blue sky, I knew I will miss "Parastoohay e Daneshgah e Tehran", I knew I will miss Tehran's portrait in Fall, I knew I will miss Farmanieh and Bagh e Ferdos, and I knew I will painfully miss my loved ones (friends and some family members that I loved/love deeply)...but I knew so well I will not miss Iran...
Maybe because I already had another "home" for years out side of the mother land...But I truly believe the reason was not that...
I learned long time ago that no obligation brings love and attachment. Today I look back and while there are times and moments that I can even smell "koocheh baghy hay e Farmanieh" (where my previous "home" used to be) I still wonder: When did my "home" and "homeland" became somewhere else?
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