While I have been extremely busy over the past few weeks, I have somehow managed to find the time to read Funny in Farsi: A Memoir Of Growing Up Iranian in America by Firoozeh Dumas. Dumas approaches her stories with a humorous tone as the title suggests. Throughout the book, she explores the challenges that she and her family experienced as immigrants to a foreign country, some as emotionally loaded and complex as racial prejudices and tensions, and some as universal as responding to a creative pronunciation of a name. Dumas’s book is about meeting and overcoming challenges, but never does the author ask for the reader’s pity. Not once does Dumas take on an accusatory tone or blame anyone for the difficulties she writes about. Her tone remains positive and entertaining even when the subject material is serious. For example, the chapter about her family’s encounter with anti-shah demonstrators on a trip to Washington D.C. to welcome Iran’s leader is entitled “I Ran and I Ran and I Ran”. Her writing is not always optimistic, but is always heartwarming and droll. Dumas not only meets challenges with a sense of humor, but emerges on the other side with that sense of humor still in tact, no matter the outcome.
Since I have the unique pleasure of enjoying Dumas’s book through the lens of my own experience here in Russia, I have been able to apply this concept to my everyday life. Of course, a major difference between my experience and Dumas’s is that I know that I will be heading home in June, however, this book has shown me that adjusting to life in another country is more or less the same no matter where you go. When I first arrived in Kazan, I did not speak a word of Russian just as the young Dumas did not speak any English upon her arrival in the United States. Although my name is pretty easy to pronounce in any language, it sounds extremely similar to the Tatar word for “grandmother” which always gets a giggle from the students I volunteer with at the Tatar Gymnasium. Dumas and I even had similar foreign exchange experiences gone awry in France. Most of all, though, Funny in Farsi has validated and helped me learn how to experience my feelings about being a foreigner.
At this point in my journey, I have become so comfortable not fitting in anywhere that I almost feel uncomfortable when I do fit in somewhere. I had the pleasure of enjoying a lovely Christmas dinner with some of the American students from my classes and some of the Fulbright scholars who are working in Kazan. It was so odd to be in a room full of people whom I don’t know very well, but with whom I didn’t have to struggle to find the right words to communicate with. Sure, over the past four months my Russian has developed so that I can have a conversation with my host family that doesn’t resemble a game of charades, or so that I can tell the waitress at my favorite café that the English version of the menu won’t be necessary because I only speak French and Russian (the things we do for language practice…), but I rehearse every word and every sentence structure over and over in my head before it comes out of my mouth. When a Russian asks how I am doing, I respond “normally” in the Russian tradition, but the definition of “normal” has changed dramatically for me. “Normal” means understanding only fifty percent of what is going on around me at any given moment. “Normal” means not knowing if I will get to class fifteen minutes early or an hour late because traffic is so unpredictable. “Normal” means that I am still not entirely sure what animal the meat on my plate at lunch came from, but I ate it anyway. “Normal” means that I am learning and experiencing more on a daily basis than I ever have before. “Normal” means getting a sideways look every time I open my mouth because, for the first time in my life, I have an accent. “Normal” means never being the “normal” one, and always being the exception—the foreigner. Funny in Farsi reminds me that even when I get the sideways look for speaking with an accent, and even when I have to lie about my nationality in order to isolate myself from the English language, there is always a way to look at a situation from a place of positivity and laughter.
Finally, in the afterword, Dumas says, “…I truly believe that everyone has a story and everyone’s story counts.” This quote perfectly summarizes why I am so passionate about languages, and Russian in particular. I too believe that everyone has a story and that everyone’s story counts. I believe that I will be able to understand people’s stories better if I can speak their languages, and I want to be able to tell my own story in as many languages as possible.
Как всегда,
Аббй
