My deepest gratitude to Lynne Blundell, Robert Hillman and Jacqueline Kent for editing my manuscript. Very special thanks to Rebecca Bauert from Penguin, who polished the final script with her sharp eyes and incredible talent. Also to Meredith Rose at Penguin, whose skills are phenomenal and invaluable. Sincere appreciation to Ben Ball, my marvellous publisher at Penguin Random House. Ben, if this book brings about any changes for the better, I will owe you that. To my beautiful wife: you have given me the world. And to my gorgeous daughters: you are my heart, and I am joyfully proud of you.
ALSO BY KOOSHYAR KARIMI
I Confess: Revelations in Exile
Leilas Secret
To Newsha, Niloofar and Anna
For our journey
VIKING
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Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies
whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published by Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd, 2016
Text copyright Kooshyar Karimi 2016
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Cover and text design by Laura Thomas Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Cover photographs: author as an adult: Max Mason-Hubers/Fairfax Media;
author as a child: supplied by the author; background: Shutterstock
penguin.com.au
ISBN: 978-1-76014-275-9
THE BEGINNING
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ONE
The bus Im in is about to cross the border from Iran to Turkey from my beloved home to an unknown land. I feel simultaneously exhilarated and ashamed. Nobody should have cause to feel happy about permanently fleeing their homeland, ever. I am alone in every sense. My wife crossed the border separately, with our two daughters, six hours ago. Azita is a Muslim and can go to Turkey freely. Im Jewish, and I am the one they want.
At five in the morning the bus stops at Tabriz, the town on the border. This is the last checkpoint, the last stop in Iran. All the passengers give their passports to the customs officer and for the next two hours we wait for our names to be called. People are excited to be going to Turkey, to a land that allows them to listen to Western music and to dance and drink alcohol without being persecuted, but my reasons for being in this bus are very different.
I pace up and down outside the immigration office, chain-smoking. I try to stay calm by telling myself, Get ready to be shot, dont be scared, death is nothing to be afraid of. When my name is finally called, my heart races even faster and my palms are wet. I try to hide my tense expression, but no mask can cover a mans dread when hes tossing a coin for life or death. Although in many ways death would be a blissful relief, Im still frightened. I havent enjoyed my life so far but Im worried about my daughters. I dont want them to grow up without a father.
But miraculously, the Iranian border officer hands me back my passport, duly stamped. Not having the slightest clue whats going on in my terrified mind, he gestures to me to move on. A voice inside me whispers, You are free.You can go. But I cannot. I am transfixed. I turn my head and glance at the mountain through the window. This will be the last time I see Zagros, the summit on which ancient Persian heroes fought with evil forces to protect our land. Farewell, my Iran! Goodbye, my beautiful home, I say to myself, and force myself to leave the office.