Inglês
From Amir—
The seeds of Zahra’s Paradise were sown many years ago. I didn’t plant them. I don’t know who did.
We were playing soccer against the Golestan school at a tournament for international schools held at the British school in Tehran. Golestan had one dazzling striker. And I had the great honor of serving as the Parthian School’s goalie. Sadly, we had made it to the finals. And I had to defend Parthian’s honor against a dust storm—Golestan’s mystery striker. To top things off, I don’t exactly have eagle-vision. As if concentrating on the striker was not hard enough, Golestan had rigged the game. They were a bevy of girls, sans hijab, all, screeching “2-4-6-8 who do we appreciate, AB.”
We won. The Iranian revolution happened. The Golestan and Parthian schools were both wiped out. Our world was gone. Defeated and destroyed. All that remained of our paradise was what was buried inside our imaginations.
Those seeds have refused to die.
Years later, our paths crossed again. The instant AB told me his name, I remembered the dust storm and the screeching cheerleaders. And all of a sudden, we were back on our playing fields, the Parthian goalie and the Golestan striker. Our world was far from gone, far from finished. It was bursting and brimming out of us. What has kept and keeps our Iran alive is not a flag, a faith or a formula—it’s bonds of friendship that nothing and no one can break.
It was AB whose Prince of Persia opened the door to First Second, and planted the seeds of Zahra’s Paradise.
Another friend, Khalil gave me the confidence to dream of Zahra’s Paradise. He made me see it. In his art, Khalil captures all that is timeless and tender about a classical and gentler world that we both refuse to abandon, a world where time is abundant, and flowing, and yes, an interior world, an erotic landscape that’s unabashed in its celebration of the feminine. I breathe my words into his heart, they come to life and take flight through his hands.
Finally, this cemetery of ours would not be coming to life if it did not have a gardener—an editor with the intuition to see and believe in the garden even when everything on its surface appears to be dead or dying. We desperately needed to find a gardener willing to draw a wall around Iran’s children, willing to stand and guard the gates of Zahra’s Paradise.
These friendships, and many others, all the presences in between, is what’s gone into Zahra’s Paradise. Who can kill that?
But, of course, Zahra’s Paradise is also a story about absences.
There’s a lot that gone into this story that I wish I could undo.
Neda is dead, and buried in Zahra’s Paradise. Sohrab is dead and buried in Zahra’s Paradise. Mohsen is dead and buried in Zahra’s Paradise.
My brother is also dead, and yes, I have buried him too in Zahra’s Paradise.
I have buried these seeds here, in this ground, in my shroud of words, and Khalil’s shrine of images, because I’m afraid that they will be, and are being, lost and forgotten.
Grief, like love, is universal. It’s a currency that connect us all.
But why?
Could it be that the dead aren’t dead, that if we grieve deeply enough, that our love can summon them back to life.
A lot of death has gone into Zahra’s Paradise, but there’s still plenty of life in the dead. There’s no destroying their life force.
The dead speak to us, and through us. They can come back as fact, or they can come back as fiction. The trick, I think, is to face them, to channel their force, to write through and with one’s grief. To lend them your pen so that you can let go of their pain.
That’s not always easy. There’s so much grief in Zahra’s Paradise—the cemetery—that sometimes one gets the feeling that there’s no bottom to the abyss. No end to the thousands of boys and girls martyred in the image of the state and buried in the constitution of its founding fathers. But there is. I’m as sure of it as I am of the faith in my grandmother’s voice and the love in her touch. And I’m as sure of it as I am of Iran and Iranians, all the contradiction, hypocrisy, humor and humanity that helps this most improbable and impossible of nations live through tragedy.
The Iran of my childhood was full of joy, love and laughter. It was brimming with plates full of fruits, and the people were every bit as splendid and colorful, generous and abundant as their dishes. They were proud and strong, wild and free, magnificent and majestic.
All that past is not dead. A new generation is opening its wings, and nothing and no one can stop its flight.
That’s why this project speaks to my heart.
Zahra’s Paradise isn’t just a cemetery where the world comes to an end. It’s also a womb, a garden, where the world is reborn. Sure, Neda is dead, Sohrab is dead, Mohsen is dead, and they’re all buried in Zahra’s Paradise. But just as there is death, so there is life and light bursting out of their shadow. Their virtual reflection, wrapped as fictional characters, allows us to raise our own imaginary army to intervene in history in real time.
Zahra’s Paradise is a wall drawn around the constitution of Iran’s children. Initially, I wanted to avoid grief by taking refuge in farce. The events in Iran, the protests, broke through. Every day, we’d catch glimpses of Iran’s youth (anyone under eighty), their faith, dreams, courage and cool, breaking out through an electronic wall. But their story appeared as fragments scattered across the face of time. Zahra’s Paradise is the garden where we’ve tried to piece together the fragments, and put a name and face to the story. Mehdi.
Mehdi and his family face the most dreadful odds. They have no leaders, no laws, no media, no army and no money. Nothing guards their sanctity of their world, certainly not the state, corporation or religion. All they have on their side is their faith in each other—the bonds of faith and friendship that guard their family. And a reluctance, a refusal, to submit and surrender Mehdi.
Their search for Mehdi—Zahra’s Paradise—is as much about the void inside the Islamic Republic as it is about the void outside. As much about the silence inside, as it is about the silence outside.
Who, afterall, is on the side of Iran’s youth? No one. Certainly not the supreme leader and certainly not the great powers. Okay, but what about the great men? Where’s Obama? Where’s Mandela? Where is that “Ich bin ein Iranian, ma hameh irani hastim” speech? How many kids have to bleed on the streets of Tehran? How many have to vanish in Evin prison? How many have to get buried in Zahra’s Paradise for the great men to utter their name and defend their memory?
So who is on Mehdi’s side? Who can Iran’s youth count on? How about us, the little people.
What stops us from climbing up on our rooftops and chanting “Allahu Akbar”, which is not the scream of the terrorist, but the Iranian people’s freedom song, the song echoing against the walls of Evin prison?
Zahra’s Paradise is our rooftop. It is our minaret—a minaret erected to protect the name and celebrate the life of Iran’s children. In a global age, Mehdi’s face serves a mirror that captures and reflects our image, and that of the Islamic Republic, inside Zahra’s Paradise.
I hope and pray that the sound of our protest—yes, the sound of Allahu Akbar–will continue to shake the ground and summon the heavens buried beneath the Islamic Republic. Mehdi–hundreds of Iranian dissidents–are waiting behind the gates of Evin prison.
* * * * * * *
• Neda Agha Soltan on Facebook, in The New York Times, on Frontline/PBS •
• Sorhab Arabi RIP (Facebook) •
• Sohrab’s Mother/Mothers in Mourning •
downloadable version please!!!
I began reading many months ago, but didn’t comment until later. I guess I wasn’t sure what to say.
I am coming back to read all the panels again. I also will take the time to read each commentary. They are always so educational and well written. I look forward to a published version I can hold in my hands and pass physically to family and friends.
This initial groundbreaking panel is familiar to me. I have friends like this. Ones I have grown old with. The artwork and storyline drew me in instantly, and they are having the same effect on me once again.
I don’t understand, are you defending Iranian people, or making fun of them and insulting them ?? why are you showing Iranian people who were killed in the protests as DOGS ??
??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
don’t you have any family ? aren’t you human being ? are you animals ?????????
>>>>>>>>>>>>>:-((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
keep on going
What a touching story!
“But just as there is death, so there is life and light bursting out of their shadow.”
I very much hope so!
Thank you, Widi.
Hopefully we may get an Indonesian publisher at some point, inshallah,
in which case they’ll be handling the day-to-day translation. Salamat
Hi, i love your work.. its so powerful & strike a chord with Indonesian people.
We had a similar experience here a few years back, university student being shot, missing.. until today…
If you need a translator for Bahasa Indonesia, i would love to try ..
here are the sample :
Box 1 : Surga Zahra, 16 Juni 2009, Blog
Box 2: Miriam , Kringgg
Box 3 : Sahabat Ibuku
Box 4 : Wanita Armenia
Box 5 : Saling mengenal sejak kelas 3
hi, i am the Washington correspondent for France24, the French Interntational News Channel. I would like to get in touch with the authors of Zahra’s paradise for an interviewm with the understanding that they want to remain anonymous. Feel free to email me at the adress provided above… Thanks very much!
Brillant work! It’s amazing how words can touch the hole globe. I’m from Brazil and I saw people from everywhere here. I’m be happy to help in what you nedd.
Amanda.
Your work is really awesome, i’d be happy to help if there is a hebrew translation in the works, or to start one!
گرافیک بسیارعالی و داستان خیلی جالب و گیراست
salam doste man.to eftekhare ma iraniha hasti
sedaye ma ro harche rasatar be goshe donya resondi
salet porbartar az emroz
Hello, I’m from Brazil and I know lots of people who would love to read your blog. So, if you need someone to translate it to Portuguese let me know. I would be more than please to do it.
Congratulations on the blog.
Marina.
Hello Marina, and thank you for your note! Actually, the Portuguese version of ZAHRA is coming soon, since the publisher Leya is joining our team—more soon.
Translation – polish
page 1
box 1: 16 czerwca 2009 ; blog
box 2: Miriam
box 3: Druga połówka mojej mamy
Box 4: Armenka
box 5: Znają się od trzeciej klasy
Why don’t you add http://balatarin.com/ which is the popular Iranian version of Digg under “subscribe and share”?
Thanks, Farz, we will!
This is giving me a better perspective than the media provides.
It’s brilliant! I work as a Farsi-Swedish translator. If you by any chance need translation into Swedish or Norwegian, I’d be more than happy to help out. Just through me an email.
!موفق باشيد
I’d like to translate it into German, if you wish to.
Though, as David mentioned earlier, my time/energy management lacks sometimes.
If you’re interested, just email me, and I’ll try and translate.
Keep it up!
Hi Aiglondur, and thanks for your offer. The way we handle translations at this point is through the publishers in each country. It’s wonderful receiving offers to translate from all over the planet!
i honestly love all your writing choice, very charming,
don’t quit and also keep posting in all honesty , because it simply that is worth to read it.
impatient to read more of your writing, good bye!
I would be interested in translating from English into Brazilian Portuguese. In case you like the idea, e-mail me. That would be very nice if Brazilians who cannot read a foreign language could follow your novel.
Keep up the good work!
Pleace in poland
مرسی
کارت عالیه
موفق و پیروز باشی
Stunning on so many different levels. It fulfills a desperate voice that has been needing to be shared, and you should be proud. I love the gut-wrenching, brutally honest, and delicate writing. I love the Broad artistic strokes around the figures mixed with the fragile, thin line shading in the background.
I am having a hard time following what’s new or not when I come back every couple of days. Could you categorize what pages have been added as separate dates or something to make this a bit more clearer?
Thanks so much for your artistic risks that will surely be greatly rewarded.
hi, i’m in the Netherlands and this is definitely a web comic I’ll want to follow. Great way to keep what’s happening in Iran in the limelight and make it real for us. Keep it up!
BTW: Because of my location, I automatically got to see the Dutch translation. I’d rather not. It’s far from perfect. Please reconsider using these texts. Thnx
Van Amir en Khalil-> should be -> Door Amir en Khalil (or even better: dump the preposition)
Mijn moeders spiegelbeeld -> should be -> Mijn moeders evenbeeld.
derde leerjaar -> should be/would be more natural -> derde klas.
And that’s just these panels.
Brilliant… absolutely brilliant. I look forward to the completion of this work. Thank you Amir
With pride and honer I read every single words and my deep heartfelth congratulations to Amir for his briliant way of explaining the on goings in Iran.
The graphics are superrb can’t wait for the next one,
Keep up the great work. such an honer to be able to read these,
Doost dareh shoma SHK
Bravo! I am so glad to find your comics. Freedom and peace for Iran!
My best regards
Am so excited to grab some quality time this week to read this! Wow! Your house lights are lit late into every night! So we know how hard you’ve worked on this!
Congratulations on launching it!
Love, Nancy
Bravo! Hope to meet you one day
Thank you. I will read each entry!
It touches my heart, it makes me cry and lough… watch what I have avoided to watch… want to read and see more… thank you Amir. Please stay with us for ever…
Bravo, I’m spreading the word.
Glad to see it. Hope it continues. Takes courage and talent. Looking for better understanding.
–alde
Lovely graphical design and catchy début. Waiting for the next episode on Monday.
I would like to suggest adding “Persian” to the language title, to make it more readable and also to present the actual English name. Perhaps, something like “Persian/Farsi” or the same.
Please email me if you would like Hebrew translation. The Iranian people are friends of Israel.
This IS brilliant. Welldone.
Translation attempt, Swedish.
First page
Box2 Miriam
Box3 Min mors andra hälft
Box4 Armenier
Box5 Dom har känt varandra sen tredje klass.
Second page
Box1 Vi eftertraktade alltid hennes väska.
Cigarreter, parfym, läppstift, mintpastiller och tuggummi.
Box2 En kedjerökare
Min mor rörde dom aldrig.
Motsatser dras till varandra.
Box3 “Han har inte kommit tillbaka än?”
Box4 “Nej.”
Box5 “Inte än.”
Box6 “När jag kom hem så var han inte där.”
If you need translators I would like to make an attempt to translate to Swedish, which is my mother tongue.
Don’t expect me to keep up though, for the simple reason that I suck at organizing my time and energy. But, I could do it through an open Google document, then other Swedes could help me keep up do quality checks.