Autobiographical

Checking up on every immigrant’s status is clearly a huge task, but it was so much more labour intensive before the advent of computers and the internet. When I arrived in the UK from Iran on 5 August 1979, I was granted a three-year student nurse visa, registered as an Alien, and required to make annual contact with the Aliens’ Registration authorities. After we were married the following May. I moved to Glasgow and applied for British citizenship.Late one evening on 6 August 1980, James was out on-call at the hospital, and the doorbell of our tenement flat rang loudly. I wondered who it might be at this late hour, and opening the door I was shocked to be confronted by a police constable in full regalia standing on the stairs. I thought James had been run over by a bus, was lying unconscious in the road or bleeding to death on a hospital trolley. Why else would a policeman come to one’s door so late at night? Visions of impending widowhood rose before my eyes, and for a moment I thought I was going to faint in the doorway. The policeman took out a little black notebook, flipped over a few pages, and began:

Are you Farifteh Valentine Hafezi, citizen of Iran, date of birth 7 February 1950, entered the United Kingdom on 5 August 1979, lately living in London? I assented, and he continued lugubriously, Well you didn’t report your whereabouts to the Aliens’ Office yesterday. We managed to trace you to Scotland. any reason why you didn’t report?
“Oh, is that all? I said, flooded with relief. I had indeed forgotten the proviso of my initial entry permit. You see, I’m now married and I’ve applied for British citizenship. I guess I just forgot”.
You may have applied for citizenship, Madam, intoned the bobby, and your application will be given due consideration. However, it is not a foregone conclusion. And despite having become the wife of a British subject, until such time as you receive a positive response from the Home Office your status remains that of Alien. Kindly ensure ensure that you report to the Aliens’ Office of Greater Glasgow Constabulary in Sauchiehall Street forthwith.

I almost kowtowed with  relief at this anodyne request. After taking down my new surname and noting all James’ details for good measure, the police constable courteously doffed his crested hat and bid me goodnight. I’m sure neighbours watching from their windows had not missed this intriguing night visitor!

[read about this incident on pp.200-201 of my memoir]

When I’m asked “where are you from?” I never know how best to answer.  The question is similar to “Where is home?” but it is not the same. Home is an emotional place, it’s where your heart is.

I spent my entire childhood in Geneva, Switzerland and most of my youth in Tehran, Iran. If I hesitate to answer, people usually follow it up with “what’s your hometown then?”  That’s not easy either. Should I say,”Geneva”? After all, it’s where I was born and lived until I was sixteen; but I have no remaining links there. We left in 1965, and I’ve never been back. I don’t feel I’m from there .

When I was a teenager we moved to Iran where I finished school and went to university.  I lived in Tehran for a mere ten years in total, but they were my most formative years. As an Iranian  in Switzerland I was raised according to Persian culture and custom, and in a home where only Persian (Farsi) was spoken. My parents and forebears were all born and buried in Iran, and it’s also where my sister and other family members still live. I may have grown up in Europe, but it was always drummed into me that I am Iranian and that my “home” is Iran  But I don’t feel I’m from there.

I managed to leave Iran after the Revolution and begin a new life in Scotland, and this is where I feel I now really belong. If asked “where are you from?”  For a quick answer I’m often tempted to reply  “I’m from Edinburgh”. Of course, considering my earlier life it’s laughably inaccurate, but I’m light-skinned with good English somI can get away with it. However, given the opportunity I’ll launch into an explanatory spiel during which the polite person who posed the query probably wishes they had never asked!

Ultimately, home is where your loved ones are, so for me it’s Edinburgh where I live with my husband.  It’s also where we worked, raised our children, and where after forty years we still live today. At last I feel this is truly home.