My First Memory . . . it is everything that I am
Zagros Mountains | Photo: Farid Sani
My First Memory . . . it is everything that I am
I have many memories of my childhood, but this is the first ever memory of my life.
It will never ever fade away. No writing will ever capture the essence of this dream-like memory
and what I saw in my third eye. It is everything I am.
My father was on a military mission in mountainous region of northwest Persian Zagros Mountain range. These mountains bisect the country from northwest to southeast with its tallest peaks reaching up to over 18,000 feet above sea level. This region is home to the Persian Kurds close to the border of Iraq and Turkey. The region was of high military and political standing and importance.
My father resided at the officers’ club compound at a high elevation with breathtaking scenery visited by hard winters and cool clear summers.
Because of the political sensitivity and possible uprising, my father had gone there without us. But after a year of his leadership and diplomacy, the military allowed us to join him.
My father often hosted dinner receptions welcoming military officials from the state lines. He told me years later “conquer with cordiality”. I have never forgotten that. Food and Flowers bind people and bring them together.
It was summertime. I remember having a white dress on walking through a pathway with wildflowers on each side. Baba Abolghasem, my male nanny, who was my father’s most trusted soldier and valet and guarded our family was escorting behind me. He was tall and looked like Spencer Tracy. Nothing else stood out in the frame of my memory. Everything else appeared as vague white lines like a film fast forwarded. I was bending over smelling flowers and taking in their shapes, formations and colors. I was fascinated by their creation. It felt like they were part of me. then I started moving my hand through them as I started running and kept running. To this day, when I recall this memory through my mind it feels like total liberty, euphoria and elation. It was an ecstasy. It was like taking off into the space to absolute freedom.
Then I was at the open flat field in front of the officers’ club with trees soaring high, branches spread out, majestic mountains in the background with their peaks still covered with snow.
There was a dining table in the middle of this field between rows of trees, so long I could not see the end of it. Soldiers in uniform and women in their colorful Kurdish costume were going back and forth attending to the set up for a state reception as my father was hosting Kurdish and Iraqi officials.
The table was covered with white tablecloth, lanterns hanging from branches of the trees, simple wildflowers and greens all over the table, handmade napkins with roses crochet edges ( saw this type of hand crochet edges napkins for the years to come in my upbringing) and unmatched chairs (when I think about that now it was very forward and charming).
Topping that landscape was the aroma of the exotic cuisines as the large trays were being brought out and carried to the buffet table. There were two buffet tables, a smaller one for Mezehs and a longer one for the hot feast spread. Curiosity got me to run to the buffet tables. Baba was right behind me. I was reaching out to touch the food. He pick me up, carried me in his arm and walked me by the buffet as the soldiers were placing the food platers all made in Persian designs on the table. Perhaps I was thinking that was just a very large a painting.
I was mesmerized and caught up by the majestic breathtaking landscape, the avant garde and lush tablescape and complex fragrances of the exotic aromatic cuisine. My world was right there in front of me. The beauty, love, nurturing and style that I have lived my life by.
– HOMEIRA