(written at the 20th of July)
Apologies for not writing any blogs the past weeks and keeping you informed of what is going on.
I discussed to do a DNA test in Tehran with the alleged father Ali Akbar and have decided not to do this in Iran as the costs are just too high for me. So back to intention number 1 which is to get the DNA of Ali Akbar to the Netherlands again. For the third time and hopefully the last one. First I need to find someone who’s flying from Amsterdam to Tehran. Then one week in between and I need someone to fly back from Tehran to Amsterdam. Someone who’s willing to take an empty box and two cottonswaps without DNA to Iran and then someone who’s willing to take the box including the cottonswaps with DNA of Ali Akbar.
I am not going to write any hopes, dreams of how I wish to see this process as I have learnt from the past. I can hope, dream and make wishes but the Angels have other plans. So throwing the ball in the air and let’s see what happens. Patience is not my middle name anymore, living in the now is my first nature anyway so that is what it is. How hard I try or search, it is I who’s enjoying every Iranian part of me somewhere in my body. I am Dutch.. I speak Dutch. I am Iranian and do not speak Farsi. Something has to be fixed. I’d like to speak the language. I do.
The other night I was watching Iran – Nigeria in a small bar in Amsterdam. I got invited by an Iranian friend of mine and she said:’We are going to watch with a bunch of Iranians in this cafe.’ I immediately accepted as I knew I couldn’t get a Dutch friend with me on this Monday evening to watch the game. I didn’t asked too. I wanted to see the game. It’s my call.
I arrived at the bar and we have watched the game with about 20 Iranians I suppose, and meeting, seeing, being in the precense of Iranians.. I feel overwhelmed, I feel excited to watch them, I feel so much love for them and yet I feel totally jealous at the same time as they speak Farsi and have a family connection in Iran. That is what I want too!! I am a bastard in Iran. Again a contradiction.
I belong to a Dutch family, but I do not share the same history as they do. I am searching my history. My family route as any other person would do in my situation. I owe it to myself. To heal. To grow. To acknowledge both sides in me;
Persian Soul in Dutch Life.
Flying down to earth.
So tomorrow Iran plays again and on Monday The Netherlands.
I keep changing the orange with my Iranian football shirt.
What a blessing for the world.. soccer!!
So I won’t be a stranger anymore now.. I will keep you updated again.
Thank you for reading me..
Find Farideh continues.