Deltawomen magazine december 2013 issue by Elaheh Zohrevandi

5 FIRE

18 RED AND BLACK

22 THEY COULD BE ME

DeltaWomen Magazine

December 2013 Strength. Beauty. Courage. Power

So here it is - December. A chance for reflection, but also planning. we had a fantastic year and our journey has just begun. DeltaWomen won the Online Volunteering Award 2013 for the third consecutive time this year and we canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be more thankful to our team of volunteers and also the readers who voted for us. There are many other ways to get involved. If you want to know more about opportunities with DeltaWomen email us or give us a call. We will be more than pleased to have you on board. Elaheh Zohrevandi Editor

December 2013

DeltaWomen Strength. Beauty. Courage. Power

Fire Aswathy Mariam Mathew

Post-Battle Cries Ankita Anand

Night Fall Jeanette Perosa

Red And Black Hadi Barazandeh

You Are Hired William Kin

They Could Be Me Laíze “Läyeh” Cândida

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Strength. Beauty. Courage. Power DeltaWomen (NGO) www.deltawomen.org DeltaWomen is published monthly by the DeltaWomen (NGO). Articles do not necessarily reflect the official organization policy. © 2012 DeltaWomen. All rights reserved. Reproduction in part or whole without permission is prohibited.

To contact the editorial team send your emails to elahehzohrevandi@me.com To contact DeltaWomen CEO send your emails to ereed@deltawomen.org

Fire by Aswathy Mariam Mathew

Why these flames are eating me? Why my heart beats are so strong? Is it hiding something from me? Why am I unable to hear my inner voice? The voice that used to whisper me, What was right and what was wrong The feeling of loneliness is clasping me to the darkness But I can see a white rose over there I can touch the petals of it, but unable to sense it I never realized that my feelings have been numbed. I can hear voices of different pitches, But I am unable to recognize my dear ones voices. Memories are taking me to a world Where I can feel the white rose, I used to clasp towards my heart. I can see the birds flying towards the setting sun beneath the sea I have always longed for these birds to come back And to tell me whether they have found real love, Beside the sea, and beneath the sun. I have seen mountains breaking up And the voice I have been waiting coming besides the woods. Through the darkness I can see him His bright face and sharp eyes I knew that you would come for me The sorrows I was having has a meaning now My eyes those were shadowed with sadness, Will now get the ray of hope At last I got real love My life is fulfilled now And my life will be with happiness hereafter Because my dreams have come true…

Aswathy was born in Kerala, India and lives in the US. She has a Master’s in Mass Communication from the University of Madras. She has completed courses in Advanced Story Writing from the University of Framingham. She loves to read Paulo Coelho’s books and always feels that a treasure is waiting for her like the shepherd in ‘The Alchemist.’ She loves to take challenges and always hopes for a better world. Her passion is writing and her ambition is to be a renowned writer. Her hobbies are watching movies, exploring new places and learning about heritage cities. She loves to roam around the whole world. Her husband Tom Thomas is a Software Engineer in Staples. Her inspiration is her best friend Rakhee.

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My Instagram account has not been updated for weeks and I don’t mind. It is not that I haven’t been active, in fact I have been hovering around, reading the comments of a couple of accounts instead. Yes, this has been more entertaining than checking the comments and likes I get from my followers on Instagram. I follow a gay actor who happens to be a father of two and when last month he posted a photo of his family, the photo got 103 comments in 20 hours. This did not shock me at all but the contents of the comments did- the amount of hate and the effort to display the hate on a social network did. I noticed that I rarely

read the comments on Instagram so I challenged myself to ask my teenage students whom I follow on Instagram about cyber-bullying and the shocking thing was that my younger students who are more involved with social networks accept cyber-bullying as a part of everyday life. The growing problem of internet abuse is the new form of violence and it is happening everywhere and to many people. The problem with cyber-bullying is that what would have been private conversation becomes public. This means the victim, as well as dealing with the harm that is caused by the hurtful language, also

has to cope with the fact that everyone in their online communities knows about that bullying, and that is really hard to deal with. Most parents do not know or understand the effect of cyber-bullying on their children as it is too virtual to be considered as violence. We might not be able to block every hater or filter them out- what we really need to change is the current culture of acceptance, tolerance and helplessness in the face of this damage being done to youngsters and women by technology. If you are being bullied

by someone or you know someone who is a victim of virtual violence, there are things you can do. Block the bully. Walk away. Report it to the officials. Talk about it. Bullying is never about you. You have the right to explore who you are. There are also many places for you to feel supported and loved. check this page out: http://instagram.com/reachoutusa and you’ll find anything from a positive quote to brighten your day to a funny animal picture that I can almost guarantee will make you crack a smile! And there you go! Get ready for daily doses of inspirational awesomeness.

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IMPORTANT: DeltaWomen Magazine is running bimonthly in 2014. We will run every two months. We are looking for new submissions for February 2014 Issue. We consider articles on politics, social commentary, popular culture, law, education, art and the environment, fashion, beauty, fitness, travel, food or

DeltaWomen Magazine • December 2013 Issue

of a “self-help” variety. Film, music and book reviews are also welcome. Thank you for your interest in DeltaWomen and your willingness to submit your work. We are excited to bring your talents to our readers, and we look forward to all that you have to contribute. email: elahehzohrevandi@me.com

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Elaheh is 24 and still growing up. She enjoys writing, reading, skateboarding and music, and has an imaginary friend called J. D. Salinger.

Let Them Go by Elaheh Zohrevandi

Her life rotates around her two cousins and her family.

November 25

Equality and human rights are the things she fights for. She writes for freedom and lives for a better world.

International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women

Think Twice

Everyone is allowed to walk away

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November had something important to say. November 25 was the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. I asked a couple of friends about their definition of the word “Violence” and it is funny that all the answers revolved around “physical abuse”. Emotional abuse is elusive. Unlike physical abuse, the people doing it and receiving it may not even know it’s happening. It can be more harmful than physical abuse because it can undermine what we think about ourselves. It can cripple us as we allow something untrue to define us. Emotional abuse can happen between parent and child, husband and wife, among relatives and between friends. Is someone you know judging or criticizing you? Do they belittle your accomplishments, your aspirations, your plans or even who you are? Do they label you? Do they blame you for their problems or unhappiness? If you are hesitating to say no, then think twice! I know this sounds cliché, but I believe everyone is allowed a fresh start. Everyone is allowed to walk away from a past that did not support their sense

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of self, so that they can find their ultimate purpose.

• Is someone you know judging or criticizing you? • Do they belittle your aspirations, your plans or even who you are? DeltaWomen Magazine • December 2013 Issue

• Do they label you? • Do they blame you for their problems or unhappiness?

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Post-Battle Cries by Ankita Anand

Ankita Anand has been secretary, National Campaign for People’s Right to Information, editorial assistant, Penguin Books India, team coordinator, Samanvay: IHC Indian Languages’ Festival and member, People’s Union for Democratic Rights. She is the co-founder of a street theatre group called Aatish, which produces plays on socio-political issues. As a freelancer she writes and edits. Her primary interest lies in working for the prevention of violence against women. Her poetry has been chosen for publication by The Indian Review of World Literature in English, The Riveter Review, First Literary Review-East, Em Dash Literary Magazine, Sugar Mule, The Criterion, Writers Asylum, Labyrinth, Black Cat Lit, Lakeview International Journal of Literature and Arts and DeltaWomen Magazine. Some of these can be read at anandankita.blogspot.in

United we stood, Until divided by the fall.

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The Art of Saving Cash

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by Aswathy Mariyam Mathew

DeltaWomen Magazine â&#x20AC;˘ December 2013 Issue

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always had the fear of losing myself into the world that I don’t know about. But I was often been thrown to such World. Situations full of strange people and their indifferent behaviors. I always had to face weird moments not knowing how to respond. In such situations my adrenaline glands would be on the verge of bursting and I manage very hard to maintain a smile on my face. I know that very few people know to read the eyes and to hear the inner voice of others. I believe that if you are able to read one’s eyes, then you will be able to read ones heart too. Coming to my story, after 25 years of spinster life, that big incident happened. My wedding! My husband’s family was entirely different from my family. After 25 years of town life I was literally thrown to a village life. That was one of the proofs of my fear coming true. Fear of being in a different world not knowing anyone. My husband’s house was in the midst of rubber trees and they had the passion of farming all types of animals at their house. Different types of cows, goats, hens, ducks, pigs etc... The list goes like that. I thanked God for vanishing Dinosaurs from this earth otherwise I would have been the first girl to have a

Dinosaur at house. I have never thanked God for such a reason. My husband travelled to the U.S. after our marriage and two months later I was lucky enough to travel to the U.S. My father came to the airport to see off me. Rest of the story goes like this… Dad gave me 5,000 rupees while I was in the airport to come to the US. It was my first flight, and I was alone. When Dad left, I was crying aloud because I suddenly felt I was all alone in the world. My fear of loneliness came true. Myself and 5,000 rupees! When I exchanged the cash at the airport, I got $100. My eyes bulged out seeing that. Just 100 dollars for 5,000 rupees? Oh God! How will I survive with just 100 dollars? I slept for most of the flight and reached London. Transit was at Heathrow Airport, and I was so thirsty and hungry. It was a six hour transit, and I was waiting at the terminal. I saw a crowded shop. I headed towards that shop and asked the sales girl for a bottle of water. My eyes were droopy as I was so tired. She asked me what type of water I needed and told the names of at least five types. I didn’t understand even a word. I just pointed to a bottle of water, and I asked for a tuna sandwich also. She told me 25 dollars in total. I thought I would

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at things without having enough cash with me to buy them. But I managed to buy $20 cologne for my husband. I just wanted to show him that the cologne was from London. I had a slight fever and I fell asleep. My fever rose up to 104 degrees Celsius. I could not even open my eyes. Six hours passed by, and I didn’t hear any announcements. I just managed to lie down on the seat. I was murmuring something out of fever, but I managed to clasp my $30 towards me. I missed my flight and security found me lying down for a long time. I was admitted to the hospital out of high fever. I cried loudly “Oh

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faint hearing the amount. She told me bluntly, “We accept dollars, but the balance will be in euros! So this journey is putting me in a drift from rupees to dollars and then to euros. I gave her 50 dollars, and I got the balance. Then I headed towards a telephone booth to call my parents and husband. I just wanted to tell them that I was in Heathrow with just $50 and 10 hours remaining to reach Boston. Since my childhood, I was always generous to pass the tension to as many people I can. In the airport, I saw so many shops with lovely things. For the first time in my life, I just glanced

DeltaWomen Magazine • December 2013 Issue

God! What will I do in this place without knowing anyone and with just $30 to my name?” My greatest fear was about the little cash I had. I cried loudly. Someone just woke me up. Oh! That was just a dream? I am still in the terminal and I didn’t miss the flight? Really great! Controlling my desires and senses towards buying things and spending money, I spent time in the terminal. Six hours in the terminal with just one bottle of water. I turned my face from the colorful food items and mouthwatering chocolates. Somehow I managed to reach Boston. While in flight, I checked my wal-

let at least five times to confirm that my $30 was safe with me. When my husband came to pick me up at the airport, I hugged him and told that I had learned various lessons about spending money when I travelled abroad. When I finished telling my story, I could see the surprise in my husband’s eyes. He was still wondering that how I had acquired “The art of saving cash” in a single trip of 28 hrs. when I had 25 solid years to learn all those things.

We are currently accepting submissions for the following genres: • Articles • Reviews • News • Inspirational • Literary • Political/Psychological • Romance • Women’s Fiction and Non-Fiction • Self-help/ How-to • Poetry

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Jeanette Perosa is a graduate Arcadia University’s MFA program. While not chasing her four children or teaching at Montgomery County Community College, she is writing fiction or traveling with her husband. Her work has appeared in The Thorn Literary Journal, Perspectives Literary Journal, Adanna Literary Journal, Delta Woman Magazine, Eunoia Review, AlfieDog Magazine and is currently finishing her first novel.

Night Fall by Jeanette Perosa

I thought about jumping, plummeting to the soft earth below, as I dug my bare toes in the rough, weathered wood that that surrounded the doorframe. I stood there at the edge of the hayloft door, gazing out over the field. The moon was a saucer, pouring pale light down onto the world and casting it in a cloak of shadows. The night air was cool and it brushed against me, pushing my linen nightdress against my legs. I reached my arms out to my side, letting my sleeves dangle below my outstretched arms. I should jump, but Papa would be angry if I was only wounded. His face would twist into dissatisfaction over my selfish endeavor. Ma would understand, but say nothing. Her eyes would console me from underneath a thick brow of concern, hair hanging loose across her face like yarn, as her whispers escaped into my ear. Whispers that were only meant for me to hear and would fade away in the soft air when Papa came within listening

DeltaWomen Magazine • December 2013 Issue

distance. I took a step back, out of the moonlight. The warm straw tickled my feet. The barn was full of nighttime noises: the fluttering of bat wings beating against the dark air, the shifting of the livestock within their sleep. I should be resting. My head should be pressed into the soft down pillow that Ma had put on my bed. “This is a special one. Got it from the Sears catalog,” she said with a smile that smoothed out the creases time had carved around her mouth, “Soft as feathers. Good for the wedding night. Got clean sheets, too. Nice and crisp from the line.” I hadn’t a clue why clean bed linens meant so much to Ma. She tucked them tight around the old mattress I would share with Joseph, a man twice my age. The thought of climbing into bed with that man was more than I could bear, let alone welcoming him with new bedclothes.

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I moved to the end of the doorway again, letting the night air reach around and under my clothes. It was soothing, not at all like the thought of Joseph touching me. His touch made me feel green - not the bright spring green, but the green that floated on top of the pig troughs after a day of rain, foul and smelly. I was going to have to jump; if I had to marry Joseph tomorrow my life would be over anyway. Maybe, if I were a cripple, he would not go through with the arrangement. “He’s a good man, Charlene. You know I haven’t been in the best of health. He’s strong and smart and will help get this farm up and running again,” Papa’s voice was clear in my head. This wasn’t for me. It was for the family. It would have been disrespectful for me not to agree to marry this man. Gazing out over the field, I could see past the twisted tree that marked the entrance to the family graveyard, the smooth stones jutting out of the ground like fingers. My brother lay there, nestled between Gram and Pop. The last hope for this family, lost to influenza this winter past. Jacob had been built for farm living. He loved working the land as much as Papa. Lowering myself down, I rested on the edge of the doorway with my feet bumping into the clapboard. Farm life had never been for me, Papa knew that. I felt comfortable among books and pens. I wrote in the journal Ma got me for Christmas almost every day.

I would sit on the side porch after the supper dishes were good and clean, and press my thoughts onto the pages. Papa’s shadow would drown out my light as he paced behind the windows. “There’s no use for book smarts in farm life. What she needs is a good strong back and to bare lots of healthy children,” he would tell Ma when I was in earshot. The wind shifted slightly, whispering past the willow tree, sending its fingers floating. The leaves of the old oak flipped over, letting their silver undersides reflect the moonlight. I kissed David under that tree, his brilliant smile glowing as he pressed his palm against the rough bark. He leaned in and his lips brushed mine, sending a thousand shivers through all the corners of my body. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as his voice trickled from my memory. “That was ok, wasn’t it?” He questioned when he pulled away. I nodded and kissed him again. “Charlene! Get in her girl!” My Papa’s voice thundered from the barn. I turned to see him stomping towards us, waving his arms like a frantic goose. “Papa’s coming!” I whispered at David, as I pushed him to run. David smiled then raced away, melting into the rows of golden corn, the corn that would soon be harvested. I could see it from here, the soft tops sagging under the late August moon.

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David went back to school and Papa brought Joseph the next day. The dream of being with him disappeared into the dwindling summer night. I drank in a breath and closed my eyes before looking out over the farm again. Papa had invited Joseph for dinner the very next day. He sat in Ma’s kitchen dwarfing the chair, chattering about hog feed, his dark eyes drifting over me as I brought supper to the table. “Sure did grow up pretty, Charlene. I remember you in pigtails. God been good to you. You’ll make a good wife,” he said as Papa grinned at me. “Thank you, Joseph,” I replied after Ma tugged on my apron, her eyes pleading. “Great chow,” Joseph said before shoving a spoonful full of mashed potatoes in his mouth. He chewed like Sally, our milking cow, and spilled most of it down his front. He left that evening, tipping his hat to me and smiling. His smile was full of holes. I quickly darted back into the house to Ma as Joseph headed down the road. Beyond the house, I could see the dirt road snaking its way into town. I imagined David waiting at the end, standing tall and proud, allowing the moonlight to drip through his hair onto his broad shoulders. Tomorrow the road would be full of wagons filled with guests, bumping along to attend my wedding. The tables were lined up in the front yard waiting to be full of potluck. A spot had been cleared for the Duggard boys to play their fiddles and banjos. The town folk would drink and dance, celebrat-

DeltaWomen Magazine • December 2013 Issue

ing. I lowered my head once more as I leaned as far out of the doorway as my arms could reach. I thought of jumping again, throwing myself hard against the fence post, before pulling back into the loft. My face fell into my hands as I tried to silence the sobs that spilled out. The soft hay cushioned my fall as I let myself collapse to the floor. The morning stars were fading and the horizon was lining with pink. The sun was waking. The loft was beginning to glow with morning as I felt soft fur brushing against my calves. It rumbled and purred as it brushed back and forth. I lifted my eyes to meet with Sweetie, the barn cat, staring at me, her gold eyes blazing. “Oh, Sweetie, what should I do?” I asked. The cat moved closer, rubbing her face on mine. I held her for a moment before she squeezed from my grasp and raced away. She was gone, just like that. I rose to my feet and moved to the ladder. I climbed down, holding onto each knotted rung until I felt the cool floor below. I gathered my nightdress, slipped on Papa’s milking boots, and made my way outside. I paused for a moment, looking up at the hayloft door. Sweetie sat there, watching me with her flashing gold eyes. A smile broke across my face as I made my way through the rows of tables set for celebration. David was all I could think of as I made my way past the willow tree. I reached the road as the sun was stretching its fingers out, brushing away the darkness and painting the sky with promise.

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Red and Black by Hadi Barazandeh

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The darkness of the café And the redness of your lips Your fingers twist in my hands And I am yours for the keeps In the gloomy nature of the dawn you bring the heaven down And I am looking at you Like a lion that walks in the town My eyes on the V of your neck My imagination is dying for a peck The bitterness of your words is like cigarette The way your hair twists is something I don’t get

I don’t know how we end up in the street Cars are passing with their glaze and their speed And it’s time to say our final goodbyes I’m stuck in this fantasy full of lies I grab your hands then let go You walk away and never look back This tragedy makes me want to know Why these tears are so red and black

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It was once said that should one enter

performers.

into the business world, it is the same as

As women begin to move into higher po-

entering into a war zone. Such as hav-

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ership style. This style is highly effective in

order of command and strategist advisor.

today’s turbulent corporate environment.

This is a very fast pace environment, and

Female leaders possess assertiveness,

the reality is that not many females make

initiative as well as aggressiveness how-

it into the top corporate ladder. The main

ever some consider it more ‘interactive’.

reason for this is not because of their

However within this style of leadership

intellectual being but because of the lim-

in female, they are more concerned with

ited dynamics within the corporate world. consensus building, are open and incluIt has been reported that only 2% of the

sive but more importantly encourage

world population of female are top CEO

participation by others. Female leader-

You Are Hired by William Kin

DeltaWomen Magazine • December 2013 Issue

DeltaWomen Magazine

William Kin

William’s work experience extends from interning at the United Nations Information (South Africa) as well as at Mine and Safety Appliances (South Africa) . He has also had the opportunity to oversee the 8th World Conference of the Shunde Association held in South Africa as the Cultural Exchange Director as one of the youngest Directors in the Shunde Friendship South Africa Association. He has worked with

several NGO’s that help needy people start their own entrepreneur venture as well as provide young adults with basic literacy and numeracy. William’s hobbies include playing competitive chess, a sport that has allowed him to acquire and grow different key transferable skills such as communication, patience, active listening, initiative taking, teamwork, creativity and innovation.

ship is more caring than the style used by their counterpart. Mrs. Indra K. Nooyi, who is the Chairman and Chief Executive Officer for PepsiCo, led its restructuring, which included the divestiture of its restaurants into the YUM! Brands, Inc., as well as the acquisition of Tropicana and the merger with Quaker Oats that brought the vital Quaker and Gatorade businesses to PepsiCo, the merger with PepsiCo’s anchor bottlers, and the acquisition of Wimm-Bill-Dann, became the largest international acquisition in PepsiCo’s history. Mrs. Virginia Rometty, prior to her appointment as the Chairman, President and Chief Executive Officer IBM Corporation, served as Senior Vice President, IBM Global Business Services, where she led the integration of PricewaterhouseCoopers Consulting. This achievement was the largest in professional services history, which cre-

Unfortunately the reality is that most male are not comfortable in having females taking the leadership role. Although these are some of the successful stories, without a doubt, over a couple of years, gender equality can be reached if we can all believe in it.

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miniat. Illa con utet nulput

ated a global team of more than 100,000 business consultants and services experts.

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They Could Be Me by Laíze “Läyeh” Cândida

The Endless Spring

“I may not be Wonder Woman, but I can do things that make you wonder.” Unknown

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” - Mae West

Dear Sisters,

words, especially herself. Because of her behavior, where were people when she wanted to hang out? They made up excuses, asked her to invite someone else, pretended they couldn’t talk in that moment… Amanda was in the desert, invisible to people around her, until her miracle started to happen thanks to an advice given by her grandmother. She reflected a lot and changed her attitudes. Consequently, her life improved. Did you understand the end? I hope so. In June, when the protests started in my country, we were celebrating Lovers’ Day, and I was thinking of you. That march turned my ideas on. Ideas I’ve kept with myself for so long. I’m 24 (soon 25, in September 28), so I include myself in this S.O.S. scream. My family was seriously damaged by authorities, they took three years of my life, and they taught us honesty’s gone. I used to treat myself as a loser, someone who would never be successful and beloved, thinking I

It’s spring in my land! What a miracle! It’s beautiful to watch my youth screaming “S.O.S.” to authorities. In a brand-new Flagless Brotherhood, I hope the results come soon. Unfortunately, my journey hasn’t ended the way I expected. However, I stared things differently. I’m so happy to react positively that I’m sure better days will come. Things are still harder and harder, but everything disappears when I get my pen to write these articles. I promise not to leave you even if the happy ending happens. All the things I conquered in this recent past have their value, especially your hearts and your respect! Today I heard a story on the radio about a young woman that could be me one year ago, before writing “On Flying Higher and Being Yourself” and “Of Spring and Sense”. Her name is Amanda. She was beautiful and friendly, but her mouth was a poisonous gun. No one escaped from her

DeltaWomen Magazine • December 2013 Issue

DeltaWomen Magazine

was being honest and people would be attracted by me. They exterminated any plans I had to have children. I would be ashamed to give birth to an innocent child in this world of snakes and worms. I must confess I wasn’t hopeful of my brothers’ and sisters’ claims, but I changed my mind. I feel proud to probably represent these flowers abroad. I see a million people telling me I should rethink my ideas about disbelief in my country. Isn’t it love? Isn’t it respect and hope for better days? I was absolutely right when I said it’s time to fly. I see a garden invaded by colorful flowers, happy butterflies and colorful birds flying higher to be themselves! I believe it can continue. I know History is a never-ending circle, but there were some disconnections in this circle. Our story doesn’t end here and now. It has also its vil-

My name is Laíze, but I really like to be called Läyeh. I was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. It has been my hometown for 25 years. I describe myself as being a double-lived person. My two passions are music and politics. I graduated in Law in 2011, inclined to interests as foreign policy, human rights, gender and youth. I’m currently studying hard to join the government. In my “second life”, I have been a soprano without bands and songwriter since I was a girl. I officially sing on stages since I was 23, but it’s hard to say when I began to be an artist. I don’t know if I have the talent to change the world, but I know I can do a little to change someone’s life. Writing to this magazine has been a pleasure and one of the most blessed opportunities I had in my life, because I put my heart in these words.

lains… But we can breathe well. I want to stay alive to help you giving your best. Together, in our available ways, we can do more. The grass is green, the sky is blue and one day, who knows, I can think about celebrating a Mother’s Day… as a mother. I know we won’t have a hundred years of peace, but we can live an eternity of hope and equality. The Giant is awake! Never sleep again! See you next month. www.deltawomen.org

December 2013

DeltaWomen Strength. Beauty. Courage. Power

CEO Elsie Reed Editor Elaheh Zohrevandi Kirthi Jayakumar

Photography Effat Allahyari

Contributors Aswathy Mariam Mathew Ankita Anand Jeanette Perosa Hadi Barazandeh William Kin Laíze “Läyeh” Cândida They Could Be Me Laíze “Läyeh” Cândida

DeltaWomen

Strength. Beauty. Courage. Power DeltaWomen (NGO) www.deltawomen.org DeltaWomen is published by the DeltaWomen (NGO). Articles do not necessarily reflect the official organization policy. © 2012 DeltaWomen. All rights reserved. Reproduction in part or whole without permission is prohibited.

To contact the editorial team send your emails to elahehzohrevandi@me.com To contact DeltaWomen CEO send your emails to ereed@deltawomen.org