Writing

Seaside holidays in Iran

Seaside holidays in Iran

The Caspian Sea is the world’s largest inland body of water. It lies between the Caucasus mountains and the steppes of Central Asia. Millions of years ago it was connected to the Black Sea but it is now a virtually enormous enclosed lake with saltwater, and sea tides. It borders Iran, Russia, Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan, but its temperate southern shores belong to Iran and its sandy beaches are a hugely popular holiday destination.

Summers are hot in Tehran. Families who can afford it often take a holiday on the shores of the Caspian Sea.  This is universally known as going North (Farsi: Shomȃl). My father had  relatives who rented a house on the beach there and we would often be invited to spend a week with them. I loved our summer holidays in Shomȃl. The journey by road from dusty Tehran to the Caspian coast takes several hours to negotiate hairpin bends through the massive Alborz mountain range. At the half-way mark we would stop in the hilltop village of Gach-Sar where the single teahouse supplied ice-cold doogh (a fizzy yoghurt drink) and refreshing slices of watermelon. Continuing our trek through the mountains thorny scrub and rocky outcrops give way to forested slopes, green tea plantations and lush rice paddies. Every few miles along the roadside barefoot lads would be hawking punnets of sour berries and roasted corn. Their echoing cries of tameshk! (blackberries) and balȃl! (corncob) would follow us on the wind as we sped past, and before too long we’d begin to pick up the salty tang of the sea.

The beach house was simple and mostly devoid of furniture, but our relatives would arrive with massive Persian carpets rolled onto their car roofs, and these would be spread out wall-to-wall over the stone floors. Everything took place on these beautiful carpets – where we sat cross-legged to eat around a sofreh (tablecloth), and where we also slept on cotton mattresses spread haphazardly on the floor. In the morning we children would run from the house straight down to the beach to swim and paddle in the warm shallow waters of the Caspian Sea. Sometimes,  if we were lucky, a local fisherman might call selling tiny amounts of fresh caviar.

Beach holidays on the shores of the Caspian Sea were special, and their memory still lingers as a vestige of the golden time in the minds of all Iranians who were young in the final decade of the Shah’s reign. Now that we are mostly an ageing diaspora scattered across various continents, our conversations on social media are sometimes prefaced with: Do you remember that perfect summer in Shomȃl?

Posted by f.v.robb in Autobiographical, Culture, Writing, 0 comments
My private hell

My private hell

To the non-believer heaven and hell are hypothetical spiritual concepts. What exactly is hell? There has been enough human cruelty during this millennium to for us to imagine how awful its theological counterpart can be. The adage that it is better to build a fence at the top of a cliff rather than to maintain an ambulance at the bottom drives earnest evangelists to warn us of the dangers of denying God that await unbelievers await in the afterlife,

Hell is sometimes called the place where there is no God. The thought of a complete separation from God destroys me, but since God is omnipresent, it’s His presence among the unrepentant that will be an unending torment. My own earthly hell is the lancinating fear of disappointing God – His divine regret that I put my hand to the plough in the heady days of summer but turned back when the going got easy.

Morphing into Mrs Comfortable Church-goer? I must not let it happen.

 

 

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Seven Years Already!

Seven Years Already!

In 2017  the 1st edition of my book Unexpected Grace was published  by Great Writing in South Carolina.  Two years later in 2019, and right in the middle of the Covid-19 lockdown, the second edition Lion Hudson/SPCK published the 2nd edition  In the Shadow of the Shahs  I feel very blessed that it’s still doing the rounds.

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Book review: No Stranger to Iran…

Book review: No Stranger to Iran…

NO STRANGER to Iran, its People, and its Church is the memoir of Pastor Tat Stewart, about his life and work, published by Talim in 2023. Tat was born in 1946, a son of medical missionaries to Iran. He spent much of his childhood in Tabriz, and later in Mashhad, Hamadan, and Tehran where he met his future wife Patty. Tat’s entire life has been shaped by the experience of living among and working with Iranians which has enabled him to become an effective shepherd for a whole new generation of Persian Christians in Iran and among the diaspora.

Tat and Patty are both Farsi speakers, and Tat is equally fluent in the Azari dialect which he learned in growing up in Tabriz. Ordained a Presbyterian minister in the USA, he and Patty returned to Iran where Tat was appointed Pastor to the evangelical churches. Immersing himself in Iranian life, Tat’s working life  was exemplary of his response to God’s calling.  Although he and his family were forced to leave during the 1979 Revolution, an opportunity presented itself for them to return briefly a few months later  to continue to minister to Iranians. This was a rare opportunity to witness the changes imposed by the new Islamic regime and the surprising ways in which God’s spirit was moving among Iranians within a church that was, and still is,  largely underground.

Post-Revolution Tat continues to pastor Iranian Christians from the USA. He is a keen promoter of SAT-7 PARS, the Persian language Christian satellite station, chief editor of the quarterly magazine SHABAN, and a founder of TALIM Ministries—all of which provide pastoral guidance and Christian literature for Persian-speaking Christians. He continues to be sought-after as a speaker at Christian Conferences throughout the Iranian diaspora, and is a popular mentor to Iranian Christians, especially in the USA where he and his wife now live.

Pastor Tat Stewart’ memoir is an inspired comment on the rewards and challenges of cross-cultural evangelism. His deep love for Iranians and single-minded dedication in spreading the Good News among them shines through all its pages.  I recommend his book to anyone interested in  the growth Christianity among Persians and within a Muslim context.

                                                       Additional comments:

  1. Tat’s umbrella term Persian Church refers to the evangelical mission church movement in Iran, which was Presbyterian. There is little mention of the Anglican Communion, or of the regular Farsi church services in the Episcopal churches in Tehran, Isfahan and Shiraz. This is an important omission, with regard to the book’s subtitle.
  2. Tat believes there were two reasons for which the Anglican Church in Iran was targeted particularly harshly by the Islamic regime when other Protestant denominations did not receive the same hostility: Firstly, because Bishop Hassan was a Muslim convert who did not change his name on conversion, and also continued to uphold his right as an Iranian citizen despite ‘apostasy’. Secondly, because the other churches in Iran were under nominal leadership of Armenian pastors, and so were protected from the ire of the new regime.
  3. There is an error (memory slip?) when the author writes that he was present at Bahram’s funeral at St Peter’s Anglican Church in Tehran (sic, p.90).  Since Bahram’s funeral was actually held at St Luke’s Church in Isfahan, perhaps he meant that the had attended a memorial service for Bahram in Tehran – at St Paul’s Church.

 

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Great expectations

Great expectations

“Well, isn’t this all very interesting!” said Jim Holmes, a freelance editor and publisher (www.greatwriting.org) in the USA, in response to my online query.   “Have your story published – yes, why not? You definitely have the germ of a book there.”  That was the  beginning of the beginning.

Jim was emailing from Greenville, a town in South Carolina I had never heard of. He is a committed Christian who had spent some years in the UK and in Iraq.  Given that I had come to the UK from Iran and that I am also a believer, clinched it for me.  I had a light bulb moment which finally banished years of procrastination in writing anything about myself. How fortunate was I to have found the sympathetic ear of real-life publisher whose establishment was grandly called Great Writing!

As my writing and Jim’s editorial reviews progressed, I began to dream of visiting this fancy publishing house.  In my mind’s eye I saw it as an imposing stone building, several storeys high, situated on the main thoroughfare, its façade graced by tall windows, its entrance glass-plated with a revolving door.  Prospective authors carrying weighty manuscripts could be glimpsed coming and going and being greeted by a smart receptionist on the front desk.  As the big chief, Mr Holmes’s office was the largest and airiest office on the top floor.  I imagined him to be a tall gentleman with a noble brow and neatly parted silver hair.

Every writer needs an audience, and for me, a grandmother who had never written anything of note, my audience was Jim.  Although all communication was online, Jim proved to be a good listener.  That he also ended up becoming a hand-holder, sounding-board, editor, critic and computer pro, was something that neither of had initially envisaged. But we also recognised in each other a mutual love for Christ, a keen desire to serve the Father, and abiding interest in the written word.  These things forged between us an alliance like no other.

Fast forward a couple of years:  After my book was published, I finally made a trip over to Greenville to meet Jim.  To my surprised amusement (and possibly his too!) Jim was neither tall nor silver-haired, though he is indeed a gentleman, and he does possess a noble brow.  The grand publishing house of my imagination turned out to be a modest room over his garage.  It’s the place where miracles of editing and publishing happen.

 

Posted by f.v.robb in Autobiographical, Friendship, Writing, 0 comments