Mamou Quotes in Darius the Great Is Not Okay
“I love you, maman.”
Grandma and Oma, Dad’s moms, didn’t say that very often. It’s not that they didn’t love me and Laleh, but they were full of Teutonic reserve, and didn’t express affection very often.
Mamou wasn’t like that.
For Fariba Bahrami, love was an opportunity, not a burden.
I swallowed away the lump in my throat. “I love you, Mamou.”
In theory, taarof means putting others before yourself. In practice, it means when someone comes to your house, you have to offer them food; but since your guest is supposed to taarof, they have to refuse; and then you, the host, must taarof back, insisting that it’s really no trouble at all, and that they absolutely must eat; and so on, until one party gets too bewildered and finally gives in.
I never got the hang of taarofing. It’s not an American Social Cue.
Mamou popped the lid and unsealed the tea. “It looks good, maman. Thank you. You are so sweet. Just like your dad.” She pulled me close and kissed me on both cheeks.
If I had been drinking tea at that moment, I would have imitated Javaneh Esfahani and shot it out of my nose.
No one had ever called Stephen Kellner sweet.
Not ever.
“Mamou thought it was too much driving to come here. To see this. But it’s important for you to know where you come from.”
I didn’t understand Ardeshir Bahrami.
Yesterday I wasn’t Persian enough because I didn’t speak Farsi, because I took medicine for depression, because I brought him and Mamou fancy tea.
He made me feel small and stupid.
Now he was determined to show me my heritage.
Maybe Ardeshir Bahrami experienced Mood Slingshot Maneuvers too.
And even though I hated getting shuffled around and grabbed by my love handles, my rubbery constipated face did relax into a smile.
I had never been surrounded by my family before. Not really.
When Dayi Jamsheed started herding us together into a big group photo, my eyes started burning. I couldn’t help it.
I loved them.
“You don’t keep the leaves in?” Mamou asked.
“It gets bitter if you let it steep too long.”
“Oh. Thank you, maman. I love this tea.”
I loved my grandmother.
Before, she had been photons on a computer screen.
Now she was real, and full of the most amazing contradictions.
I wanted to know more.
Mamou Quotes in Darius the Great Is Not Okay
“I love you, maman.”
Grandma and Oma, Dad’s moms, didn’t say that very often. It’s not that they didn’t love me and Laleh, but they were full of Teutonic reserve, and didn’t express affection very often.
Mamou wasn’t like that.
For Fariba Bahrami, love was an opportunity, not a burden.
I swallowed away the lump in my throat. “I love you, Mamou.”
In theory, taarof means putting others before yourself. In practice, it means when someone comes to your house, you have to offer them food; but since your guest is supposed to taarof, they have to refuse; and then you, the host, must taarof back, insisting that it’s really no trouble at all, and that they absolutely must eat; and so on, until one party gets too bewildered and finally gives in.
I never got the hang of taarofing. It’s not an American Social Cue.
Mamou popped the lid and unsealed the tea. “It looks good, maman. Thank you. You are so sweet. Just like your dad.” She pulled me close and kissed me on both cheeks.
If I had been drinking tea at that moment, I would have imitated Javaneh Esfahani and shot it out of my nose.
No one had ever called Stephen Kellner sweet.
Not ever.
“Mamou thought it was too much driving to come here. To see this. But it’s important for you to know where you come from.”
I didn’t understand Ardeshir Bahrami.
Yesterday I wasn’t Persian enough because I didn’t speak Farsi, because I took medicine for depression, because I brought him and Mamou fancy tea.
He made me feel small and stupid.
Now he was determined to show me my heritage.
Maybe Ardeshir Bahrami experienced Mood Slingshot Maneuvers too.
And even though I hated getting shuffled around and grabbed by my love handles, my rubbery constipated face did relax into a smile.
I had never been surrounded by my family before. Not really.
When Dayi Jamsheed started herding us together into a big group photo, my eyes started burning. I couldn’t help it.
I loved them.
“You don’t keep the leaves in?” Mamou asked.
“It gets bitter if you let it steep too long.”
“Oh. Thank you, maman. I love this tea.”
I loved my grandmother.
Before, she had been photons on a computer screen.
Now she was real, and full of the most amazing contradictions.
I wanted to know more.