Before the Turning Point
Days, months, and years passed quickly. During our teenage years, we were passionate about football. We played all the time—not professionally, of course, but for fun in the alleyways of Zahedan, and sometimes in Saravan, competing with the kids from our neighborhood. Our dream was to one day play for the world’s famous teams. We never shared this dream with anyone; perhaps if we had mentioned it to our father, he would have sent us to football training classes in Zahedan.
As I mentioned before, we were never very studious. From the very first year of primary school until the final year of high school—when we eventually earned our diploma—one of our uncles was always in charge of our schoolwork. This made us heavily dependent on them. We wouldn’t study unless they told us to, and sometimes we didn’t even listen to them at all.
Omid and I completed primary school, middle school, and high school, and eventually received our diplomas—thanks to the care and persistence of our parents. Although our father was rarely home, I now realize that he always kept an eye on us. My mother constantly told us to study so that we could become important people in the future—a piece of advice I sometimes heard from her several times a day. My father, through both relatives and non-relatives who were teachers, and with the help of our uncles, consistently followed up on our school lessons.
In accordance with our father’s instruction, we began working during the summer holidays when we were fifteen, and we earned wages for it. We usually went to the Bella Shoe Shop, which was run by our father and uncles, and worked there. Father always said, “I’ll cover your living expenses until you’re eighteen, but after that you must work for yourselves—unless you plan to continue your studies. If you study all the way to a doctorate, I will pay for it, even if I have to sell the house.” At that time, our parents’ greatest hope was that we would focus on our education and not get distracted. But their words didn’t really sink in.
In 1993, we moved from the government housing of the Finance Office to a house my father had bought. It was a two-story house near the Khayam and Modarres intersection, and back then it was considered one of the notable houses in that part of Zahedan. Today, however, with all the new large buildings around it, it no longer stands out. I remember my father bought it for 13 million Tomans (around 82000 US Dollar) from a man named Zare, a well-regarded teacher originally from Yazd.
Well, we had outgrown the innocence of childhood, and it was now important for us to pay closer attention to our conduct. At last, after much effort, I received my diploma of Commerce in the summer of 1994, and my father held a big celebration in Bakhshan of Saravan, to mark the occasion. After graduating, I had to study for the university entrance exam, but I paid no attention to it. At one point, my father sent me to Tehran for a few months to stay with my uncle Abdolreza—who had just moved there—so that I could attend some private courses to prepare myself for university entrance exam. It may be hard to believe that during all that time I didn’t study for even a single minute. I kept a textbook open in front of me so that if Abdolreza suddenly walked into the room, he would think I was studying and report the same to my father.
After I failed the entrance exam, I sensed that my father was somewhat disappointed in us. One day, he told Omid and I: “If you’re not interested in continuing your studies, don’t waste your time—start working in the private sector.” He then asked our uncles (Alireza, Hamidreza, and Abdolreza) -- who by then had entered the construction business -- to employ us in their companies. I ended up working for about two years in Alireza’s company. There were hardships, problems, and occasional misunderstandings that sometimes left Uncle Alireza dissatisfied with my performance. My situation was different from Omid’s; he had a diploma in Civil Engineering and was familiar with engineering work, while I knew nothing about that field and had no interest in it. I was much more drawn to writing, though I never mentioned it.
In short, I was neither serious about my studies nor committed to private-sector work. I had no real motivation to pursue higher education or a job in business. Perhaps the main reason for this was that our father was in a better financial position than most of our relatives, which meant that, unlike many of the other children in the relatives, we grew up in relative comfort and rarely felt any sense of lack. In contrast, those who came from less privileged backgrounds were often more successful academically, and those who didn’t pursue higher education performed well in the private sector. This situation led my father to compare us with other children, and in those comparisons, we did not measure up well. This added to my parents’ concern. My father didn’t know what to do and found himself in a kind of confusion—until something important happened, which I will describe in the next chapter.