The Turbulent East and the Magician of the West

East — 0-11 years old — Ahwaz

I was born more than twenty years ago in a city in the south of Iran. Even though it has been many years since then, it is as though I can still hear the sirens, and the bombs exploding, and the news of the Iran-Iraq War like a recording in my mind. I vaguely remember how one day, some Iraqi planes dropped a few bombs close to our kindergarten. We were all sitting on the floor of a big room. What scared me the most wasn't the bombs exploding, or even the fact that the windows in the building were shattered" But it was seeing some of the teachers who were supposed to be responsible for us run for fear of their own lives.

I am sure the damage my soul received from that moment of insecurity remains to this day.

East — 11-13 years old — Tehran

Besides all this I had a fairly quiet childhood. When I was 11, I was accepted by exam to enter a school for the exceptionally gifted, offering a higher level of education. Also, my father decided to move to Tehran (the capital of Iran) so that I would be in a better place for acquiring higher education. During my first two years there, I realized for the first time in my life that there were actually people who are more intelligent than me! I remember one particular teacher who taught us the meaning of the word quiz. He gave us a little exam. Until then, I had thought of myself as being more intelligent than anybody else. But I was unable to find the right answer when there were other students in the classroom who knew the answer. During the next two years, the students would often be ranked after an exam, and I could clearly see that I had only average intelligence.

I am positive, the damage in my soul from the worthless thoughts I entertained remains to this day.

West — 13-15 years old — England

When I was 13 years old, my father was commissioned by his company to go to England. It was incredible. All of a sudden, I found myself in a new society, a new culture, and a new people. The food, cheese, yoghurt, fruit, and even their packaging were strangely appealing to my eyes and taste buds. It was as though the labors of a simple old man who made homemade cheese and yoghurt with his hard-working hands had become worthless and meaningless in comparison to the million-dollar machinery of western civilization. Television, people who smiled a lot and greeted each other in the street, respectable old ladies, and gentlemen who walked by early in the morning with their bags and shopping carts, and said good morning to you before you had a chance to acknowledge them, clean streets, and traffic that was under control" All these things seemed so attractive to me. Even the staff in the stores surprised me by how they would come to me, and politely ask me whether I needed anything! The Magician of the West had cast his spell on me.

It was a few months past the start of the new school year, and after much searching, I was accepted into a co-ed public high school. All of a sudden, that beautiful façade fell, only to reveal the ugliness that was behind it. For the next year, all I remember is being mocked in school, family problems, and begging that I wouldn't have to go to school. I even thought to myself that if I ended my own life I would be relieved, but fortunately I did not have the courage to do so.

I am sure the damage in my soul from all the peer pressure from family and society remains to this day.

East — 15-18 years old — Tehran

After spending two years in England, we returned to Iran, and I did not get accepted into the school for the exceptionally gifted again, because I had been out of the country for two years, and their level of education was much higher than mine. I did get accepted into a very religious private high school. To tell you the truth, I was not an innocent or blameless boy. I was very boisterous, contentious, and disobedient both to my parents and to the school authorities. This behavior was quenching my thirst for attention. At that high school I learned about Islam. But the pressure that the school authorities were putting on me was unbearable. It was as though I had to be an experienced actor — one who politely sat there, quietly, who was respectful and calm, and who studied a lot. But all that was coming out of me was disrespect and foolishness, which were diametrically opposed to the values I was being taught.

The following year, I attended another private school that was more permissive. There another chapter of my life was opened. I found good friends. Fashion, girls, music, and movies — all the things that were important and of value in the eyes of many youth in society became valuable to me as well. Our way of escape from the hard wooden classroom seats that we had to sit on for hours was whispering and looking out of the classroom windows at the passers-by, and dreaming of the time of freedom we would have after school hours. At that time, I became extremely interested in art, and I remember begging my parents to buy me a guitar, and soon after that I started to learn how to play it.

The next year was my last year of school before college. But I had lost all interest in studying. So I dropped out of school, and that was the last time I would ever go to a school. A few months later, my father told me that he had worked out the proper paperwork for us to emigrate to Canada. This time, I didn't get too excited.

The Turbulent East and the Magician of the West had both demonstrated to me how what they had to offer was empty and void inside.

My life was consumed by hours of lying down in my dark bedroom listening to music, or exploring the fascinating world of video games and movies. The meaningless reality of my life was hidden beneath my fantasies of other worlds and other realities. I was asking myself and those around me, "So WHAT?" All this labor, and suffering, and hungry children, and and, and" So WHAT? Before we emigrated to Canada, I decided to become a movie director in order to bring to life the fantasies I had of different realities that were just the opposite of the reality of my everyday life.

West — 18 — The present time in Canada

I know that my life story is not that strange or incredible. This recurring story is the story of millions of young Iranians who float in the raging waves of their lives, looking for a shore full of peace, tranquility, and love.

I do not intend to write about the details of the next few months I spent in Canada, or about how I came to the conclusion that all my dreams and fantasies were meaningless.
I do not intend to write about how at my job, working from 11pm to 7am, I saw the depth of the corruption and the tragedy of western society, something that was not much different from what I had experienced back east.

The old beat-up box of the East and the nicely wrapped gift box of the West had both revealed to me the only thing they have inside — "Man, lonely and without God."

God

This word that I had heard many times on TV, in the Koran, and at school had become my only hope. To be honest with you, I hated religion. I hated the god that left the world to its own devices, and wasn't doing anything to redeem man — the god of the East in whose name they committed horrible crimes against humanity, or the god of the West in whose name you could enjoy any degrading and fleshly pleasure, and he would still love you, and forgive you even though you consciously chose to live that way, and not to change. So where was the true God?

Maybe you, like me, dream of seeing a different reality? Maybe you, like me (at that point in my life) are thirsty for real love, real friendships, and a real God who loves you and cares for you. Maybe you, like me —whether you are living east or west— are searching deep down in your heart for the answer to the question, "So what?" Maybe you, just like me at that point in my life, pull the blanket over your face sometimes, and cry in need and desperation.

Maybe, just MAYBE, I am your brother" It could be that we have the same heart, the same hope, and the same purpose in life. Maybe the true God wants you, and me, and the 45-year-old Iranian clerk who looks through his broken glasses at thousands of people passing each other by every day, and every once in a while —in between serving his customers— dreams of living in a different reality" and a lonely 38-year-old Iranian woman who does not find a husband, and works the night shift at a hospital, cleaning, and after work she goes home to cry over her poetry book from a broken heart" and the rich young boy who lives in uptown Tehran and lacks nothing as far as money, car, girl-friend, etc. goes, but deep down in his heart is longing for true freedom, because he is not fulfilled" and the Afghans, and the Turks, and the Kurds, and the Arabs, and the English, and the Canadians, and every single hurt and lonely human being who still has a sensitive heart" maybe the one and only true God wants all of us to live together, next to each other, and for each other? Maybe you, like me, are asking yourself, "Is that all God requires of us — a series of routines and principles performed for Him daily, weekly, or yearly?"

This article is not a political article, or even one that wants to let you know that our world is very messed up. This article is not for the purpose of causing a change in society, or even to make the world a better place. The purpose for writing this article was not even so that I could declare to society how damaged I am, and blame society. (I was the only one to blame because of the choices I made in my life.)

I wanted to write so that you could know that today, my dream is becoming a reality right before my eyes. You can come and see for yourself. Months after I came to Canada, in the depth of my loneliness and misery, I was found by a people who wake up every morning with one thing on their minds — to love their God and to show that love and affection to those around them — a people who do not go home after their religious ceremonies. Their religion is their way of life. They are truly together, and love each other. They work together. No one has his own possessions, but they share all things in common. In a world where children grow up condemned and without love or true peace I came across a people who raise their children in a pure and peaceful environment, and give them the encouragement and love and affection they need. They have received the message of the ancient prophets that the scriptures talk about — not only in their minds, but in their hearts, and with every fiber of their being. It was as though the seed that was in Abraham's heart causing him to leave everything behind —his society, his city, and his house in search of God— was sprouting once again.

Now it has been more than two years that I've been living in this reality. With the help of the true friends that I have found —human beings like me who have been damaged in their souls in different societies all around the world— the hurt in my soul is slowly being healed. You, too, can come and see with your own eyes. Our addresses can be found on the web site. We all live a tribal life together, and homeschool our children. In contrast to the western and eastern cultures a new culture is emerging on the earth, and you too can be a part of it.

If you live in Iran or in different parts of the world and are unable to visit us, or anyway if you would like to write to me, and ask me questions about this new culture, or if you have any comments, my address is:

89 East Gate
Winnipeg, Manitoba R3C 2C2
Canada

My name is Ashkan. I would be more than happy to receive letters from you. I will respond as soon as possible. Also, in the future I hope to translate more articles into Persian for the web site from the articles that have already been published by us, the Twelve Tribes Communities all around the world.

With love and sincerity,
Ashkan
June 13th, 2004