DANGEROUS COMBINATIONS
“Gather your things, I want you gone tomorrow, you can’t stay here anymore, you upset me”. It was meant seriously but said in passing, a sort of, ‘oh and by the way, I never loved you’, sort of way. This third occasion however, I happily responded, “Certainly, I’ll be gone tomorrow”, and I meant it.
Phone bills, of the shared variety, are surely one of life’s more volatile elements – a dangerous combination of numbers so correctly; so annoyingly correctly displayed. By tossing one of these babies into semi-unstable commune you’ll have the makings of a hit reality-TV show, or in my case, an eviction notice from my grandmother.
“Daveed, we got our phone bill, it’s three times as much normal?”.
I instinctively responded, “No worries, leave it to me”, it wasn’t wholly likely I was responsible but I saw it as an opportunity to contribute to the living expenses that my family repeatedly refuse to except.
“On the odd occasion I use a different type of internet card: with this one you pay in the bill, not upfront”, I explained to a confused flock of eyes, “let my friend explain – they gave me the card”, I added, sure that the friend’s experience and native tongue would help.
“You’re a fucking idiot, you stupid fucking idiot, how dare you insult the family and involve a non-family member in this matter”, my father responded as the ordeal went transnational. Seemingly my dear and distressed grandmother had littered my father’s answer-machine in England with, “fucking messages”, about the whole, “fucking thing”.
“You just don’t trust us!”, my uncle later added having concluded that I called my friend to check they weren’t extorting money from me. Whilst away that day at work things had festered following the misunderstanding, but those numbers were still so correct while my family were so annoyingly not.
I’d seemed to be getting better at the temporary living arrangement, arriving with gifts in hands, helping with the kids homework, keeping my belonging out of the way – certainly I could’ve done more. In many ways I’d tried to keep the peace; keeping up with my grandmothers demands; keeping an eye on the bigger picture. Most frustrating of all, I’d compromised my cultural exploration, cautiously keeping to the imposed curfew of 9pm and when not, ample notice was given. There’s more, but not now.
From all this I take a collection away with me, it’ll make a book maybe: reflections upon the logic of an unknown-aged woman – ‘A Dangerous Combination: Ignorant and Opinionated’.
Later, comparing the ‘mobile calls’ column on that wretched piece of paper I’d reached a new conclusion, it seemed that my dear cousin’s semi-secret nightly calls to the mobiles of his girly friend’s had mounted up, and it was me who was now paying for it.
Labels: culture, daily life, eviction, family, Iran, misunderstanding, phone bills
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Wow, is it common for families in Iran to be this strict? Do you think they’ll regret kicking you out, and maybe your cousin will feel bad about the misunderstanding and admit that it was his bills all along?
I hope this gets sorted.
I agree with Esra’a's WoW, there is more to your history than this episode. and by the way how old are you? Yeah, I have alot of questions.
We have 2 late teenage daughters with mobile phones, etc. etc.
Umm I also feel there’s a bridge of the story left out before your uncle enters with his conclusions. They don’t follow from the preceeding paragraph. I am interested in this feisty old grandmother who uses these English words…HOW old is she???
My My, you are blessed with the best of the West, and the East 
I think more detail could be given to this “family judgement day” meeting. Are they a regular thing….Maybe that’s why our daughters hated ours so much 
DY-NO-MITE opening paragraph, BTW. I tell my students, you are judged in seconds, make your intro the best of your life, and chances are better that you’ll be forgiven for all, or most, or a little that follows.
Move to Irvine California and become a rebel…
In Irvine…everybody gets along
Esra: I guess it is common for families in Iran to be strict, still so much of the old traditions are present though I’m not complaining necessarily. The issue is not really about what they say, about being out late, meeting girls or that I should save my money — all things I hear daily. It is about control, and these problems are made by my grandmother only. She is immobile, house ridden and needs to always be the centre of attention. On top of this she is rather illogical and very opinionated.
My friends say that my family is very traditional for Iranian standards, if this help you gauge things.
For the record, they stopped me while packing and protested my leaving. Suddenly they had no problem with me, only showing the irrelevance of the matter and making me want to leave sooner. I’ll stick it out for a little while longer before I can make more sensible arrangements.
Edo: I’m 29, yet by the entry you would think I was 15. Of course, explaining my family bickering to the world is most embarrassing but I feel that daily life, explained, can be just as powerful political rant.
My uncle assumed that I was checking up on them by including a friend – an insult because I took matters outside of the family and also that he thought I didn’t trust them. The missing parts, if you wish, were that while I was at work they’d been discussing this, drawing all kinds of conclusions, probably compounding them with other sensitive matters. My dear grandmother had taken to running to my father and complaining. Coincidently I called him that night only to get an earful.
Also, my grandmother’s first tongue is Turk, her Farsi is not particularly strong and I’ve only ever heard her say “eat” in English. Also, nobody knows her age but we guess she’s about 73.
Howie: Irvine sounds good, do come for tea when I’m settled.