AVAAZ (excerpt) by Michael Shayan

avaaz (‫)آواز‬

by Michael Shayan

Evan Morse emorse@gersh.com 41 Madison Avenue, 33rd Floor New York, NY 10011

Avaaz (‫ – )آواز‬a Farsi word for a song as it is being sung. ** “I’ll probably [find out I’m] Iranian. That’d be, like, terrible.”

-Senator Lindsey Graham, 2018, on DNA tests ** Note: This play is based on my mother’s history and experience of coming to America. In one iteration, as a queer person of size, I perform this piece to embody her story and explore our mother-son relationship through the different lenses of body, sexuality and gender.

A single asterisk indicates that Roya is correcting herself.

Salaam, honored guests, and welcome, Welcome to Roya’s humble home.

It’s bright, warm, and comfortable.

Colorful Iranian antiques mingle with more modern pieces.

It feels like history, like home.

There is a table, a centerpiece, a masterpiece, covered in cloth.

On it, we find: A mirror, flanked by two candlesticks.

A copy of the Shahnameh, an epic Iranian poem.

A fish bowl with a goldfish.

A bowl of apples.

A dish with growing wheatgrass or barley.

Esfand, seeds we burn to ward off the evil eye.

A few gold coins.

Garlic cloves.

Vinegar.

And a bowl of samanu, which doesn’t translate.

Ideally, the audience would have an opportunity to pass through, to witness and experience the beauty and ritual of this table, which we call Soraye Haft Sin. More on this later.

Festive Iranian music plays, And Roya arrives, Greeting and welcoming her guests.

She might serve tea and offer some traditional treats.

She’s 54, Iranian-Jewish, and fully in her element, Wearing something bright, flowy and fabulous.

Knowing her, it’s a kaftan.

Drama queen.

She commands the room.

ROYA Today is the first day of Spring.

We call it Nowruz.

Say that with me.

Nowruz.

Yes, rrrolling the r.

Nowrrrrrrruz.

Rolling, rolling! No. No, no, sorry, no.

That’s okay.

You learning.

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Nowruz, in Farsi, means “New Day.” But really, it’s New Year, Iranian New Year.

So I wish you all a very happy 1397.

(Pause) Yes, I know, Iranian calendar, We are couple hundred years behind.

But still, we invented algebra, human rights and chess.

And religion. And the guitar.

So really, we are same same.

Nowruz, really, it’s like, metaphor, about rebirth, Winter becomes the Spring, Dark becomes the light, You know what is metaphor.

Whole thing takes thirteen days.

We eat, sing, make celebrations.

It’s like Christmas in March without gifts. ** MY FIRST NOWRUZ IN AMERICA You know, when I came over, Was around same time Nowruz.

It was early in America.

Nineteen eighty, three, I think so.

Yes, maybe, four years, after revolution.

I was stay with some friend, Mr. Rashti and his wife, Manijeh.

We was not the friend, Baba was friend, my father.

My Baba and his Baba was friends, You understand?

But me, I was strange. Er. I was stranger.* I did not knew why they took me.

With nothing, no money.

They did not knew when I would leave…

Yes, they was Jewish, like us, but still.

Many people is Jewish!

I was confused, I thought maybe they was being – I don’t know, polite? Not polite, but –

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Because in our culture, we have some – idea, we call taarof.

Say it together: taarof.

Yes, again, rolling the r.

Taarrrrrrrof.

No, no, still no.

We try later again.

Taarof, there is no such things in America.

How I can explain?

(Pause – she thinks) Word itself, it does not have a meaning.

And yet, has many meanings.

It is – I will give you some example.

Pretend we are just meeting.

I know already we seems like family, Hard to pretend, But just make believe you come to my home first time.

Maybe I invite you for coffee, or afternoon tea.

At end of conversation, I say to you, thank you so much for coming, please, stay with us for dinner.

In America, maybe you would say, sure! Fantastic! I would love to.

This – is horrible. Terrible! Disgusting.

In Iran, you would be disowned and your family would be put to shame.

It is greedy to accept right away.

Instead, you should say “no, please, I cannot, thank you so much for your generous offer, but I am not able to join you for the dinner.”

And then I would say “please, it would be my greatest honor and pleasure to have you in our humble home” And you would say “no, no, no, no, I am not worthy of your invitation to sit at your warm, loving table.”

I would say “please, are you joking, you are a most desirable guest, with your charm, humor and many talents.”

And you would say “please, my talents are nothing compared to yours.”

And I would say “what talents do I have? I am sand, I am dust, I am dirt compared to your wisdom, generosity and expertise. please, I beg of you, I would put my life down on the line, I would jump in front of a train if you do not join me for at least one appetizer” And you would say “please, no, I would be the driver of the train, and I would drive off a cliff before hitting you, killing not only myself but thousands and thousands of people because no one is worthy of your mere presence.”

And I would say “No, if you are the train I would become the cliff and I would extend myself miles and miles through valleys before I—” So you understand, yes?

Okay, sure, maybe this example is a little extreme.

But idea is same.

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Maybe seems to you like we are being, I don’t know, fake.

We are not.

It is out of the respect.

You see, the point is not whether you stay, or accept.

The point is whether I make you, my exalted guest, feel welcome, and you make me feel appreciated for the offer.

But you must also follow tradition.

If you say yes too soon, you are low class loser without manner.

If you say yes too late, you are low class loser and you offense my honor.

And if you say no, well, you could start a war.

So it is not about winning, but about reading –– honoring each other, and finding, together, most desirable outcome.

If you ask me, nobody wins, because it has been many hours, both of us are starving and chicken is burning in the oven.

(Pause) Speaking of which, remind me please to check on the chicken.

(Pause) So, you see, it takes two to taarof.

It is not only about you.

You must lower yourself and higher the other person.

It is a rich wall. (ritual) A ceremony.

A jang… jang… war!

Of words, a battle of words.

Most of all, it is about the respect.

We turn each other to kings and queens.

If we don’t, who will?

(Pause) So, now you understand taarof.

If not, that’s okay.

This is three thousand years of history in three minutes.

And if you don’t, please, come again for dinner And I teach you one by one.

Really, would be my honor and pleasure, both. ** So, Mr. Rashti and Manijeh were – Oh, I tell you some quick story!

My son, he brought, a friend…

American friend…

From Harward, (Harvard) My son, he went to Harward, University, very perest-igious! (Prestigious) No Persians, really, there, Probably it is for better,

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Less problem, He is American, my son, He was born here, In LA, Westwood, So yes, he is American…

Anyway, this friend, He comes our house for dinner.

Don’t worry, he was welcome.

And he tells us, About summer vacation.

He traveled, All the way, Through Middle East, Carrying only one backpack.

I said, wow, really?

You chose to do like this?

Why Middle East?

Why not Europe, or Paris, or France?

Americans are very strange.

And why only one backpack?

No suitcase, no luggage?

Delta checks two bags for free!

Anyways.

He said oh my Gd, The food, the culture, this, that, love, love, love, love, love.

He was ass-kiss, this friend.

I mean, he liked to kiss my ass.

And then he tells some story about family he met, Iranian family.

He talked with them, few minutes.

And they said, wow, we love Americans, You should come stay in our house.

And you know what he said?

Sure! Fantastic! I would love to!

(Pause – she slaps her hand and gives them a look) Listen! So, he goes to family’s house, And stays with them, For three month.

Three month!!!

Imagine?

They could not ask him to leave.

So, of course, he never did.

This friend, I – Did not so much like.

Was okay, but,

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You know, average.

Okay, he had PhD, But just from small school, Somewhere, I think… Stamford?

Stanford?

I know, never heard of it.

Also, the face.

Face was average, too.

(Pause) I don’t know why, my son, he wants to – I mean, you know, why he’s choosing to – (She stops herself) Anyways, Friends are nice to have.

(Pause) And you know, My son, he’s handsome! Enough.

Believe me, He is not like George Coolooney.

But he does have a good eye brow.

(Pause) And, you know, I tell him: David, You need to lose the weight.

Many years, I tell him, But still, he doesn’t listens!

So, what I can say?

You want to look like this?

You want to be like this?

Okay! Go ahead! Be! (Pause) You should tell him, Maybe he listens to you! ** Okay, so now you know how I was felt, When Manijeh insists for me to staying with them.

She said, many times, please, With us, there is no taarof.

But saying there is no taarof, That IS taarof!

You see?

It’s very advanced.

For Nowruz, Manijeh made beautiful haftsin.

Filled with –

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(Pause – a realization She gestures to the table) Oh, oh, this!

This is Haftsin, What we call Soraye Haftsin.

Beautiful, yes?

It means “the table of seven sins.”

(Pregnant pause) Sorry, not sins.* Sin, in Farsi, means letter S. It is the table of seven S. Because all starts with letter S. (She holds up the apple) Like sib, sib is apple, sib starts with Sin, with S. (Pause) This table, What we have on the table, Is symbols.

It represents what we bring with us into Spring, into new year.

Not sins.

That would be completely different table!

(Roya holds up Sabzeh, The first “s,” A bowl of growing wheatgrass) SABZEH (‫)ﺳﺒﺰه‬ For example, Sabzeh, Sprouts, the sprouts of Spring.

Very important, sits in middle of table.

Sabzeh grows and makes collection Of bad things, bad energy, bad lucks, in house.

On day thirteen of Nowruz, Which of course, thirteen, number thirteen, it’s bad, We have Sizdah Behdar, Which translation is, eh, “thirteen outside.”

We take Sabzeh and throw outside to water, Getting rid of bad lucks, And making room for good ones. **

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Anyways, still, with Manijeh, I was, felt like, bear den. (burden) Who would want someone like me?

I did not speak language, I was not very pretty…

I did not have so much to offer.

I mean, yes, they were, empressed, with Baba.

Well, they had good empression from him.

Baba had, was, in Iran, important.

His name, you know, was – People knew his name.

He was a – (She looks for the word) not politician, but – what do you call politician with no job?

Unemployed.

(She laughs) No, really.

What is it, activation?

Activity?

(Pause) Activist, activist, yes.

He helped many people.

He was, a leader, His voice, His words, Brought crowds, Big crowds, Hundred by hundred, He gave them, I don’t know, hope. ** THE REVOLUTION Revolution was – Feels a bit like dream.

Bad dream.

I think about those time, Feels like, I don’t know, Like food it is stuck in my throat.

People thought Shah, our King, was frog.

Fraud*. Sorry, fraud. Fraud.

I don’t know from where I got frog!

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Anyways Khomeini came long, And told people whatever they wanted to heard.

He said why you should work, When we are so rich with oil, I will heat your homes, Give you money from land, Together we make Iran great again!

(Pause) Sorry, too soon, too real?

And people, they believed him!

A man who did not shave.

Every day Was protest, People put flags and cars to fire.

Sky was sick from smoke.

Outside our window, People would chant: AZADI, ESTEGHLAL, JOMHOURI EH ESLAMI! AZADI, ESTEGHLAL, JOMHOURI EH ESLAMI! Freedom!

Independence!

Islamic Republic!

(Pause) Iran, never it was so safe for us, for Jews.

We never told people, really.

Was secret which was not secret.

Even during times of Shah.

Was better then, of course, but still…

(Pause) After revolution, Iran became Islamic Republic, And things, they changed.

Laws became laws of Islam.

They made us to cover our hairs, We could not hold hand with man in street…

I wanted so much to go to school, But universities was close down.

Government wanted to change books, Take away “western classes,” like music and humanity, And erase Shah from our memory.

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Baba was Making way For Jews, To escape, From Iran, To Israel, Like ghosts, Unseen.

He became, More, Than just, Our father.

He became, Symbol.

Father, For our people.

I did not need a symbol.

I needed my dad.

End of excerpt.

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