 Our mahaleh, or neighborhood, known as Sarechal by the Iranian Jews, and Mahal-e-Juda by the Iranian Muslims, was located in the south of Tehran. It was the Jewish quarter of Teheran where the Jews felt safer and more at home than in the city at large.
They had their own ancient bathhouses and seven synagogues. The Iranian Muslims who lived around the neighborhood viewed Sarechal and its people a little differently; they didn’t find them very pleasing, clean or acceptable. Starting in the 1940’s, many Jews began to leave the confines of Sarechal for other neighborhoods, mainly in Northern Teheran, seeking refuge, a better life and assimilation in areas where there was more tolerance. By the late fifties, some of us began to go abroad as well. Many of us came to America and Europe to study and work. Some are still in Tehran, if not in Sarechal. By 1978, those of us who were already living in America witnessed the great exodus of the Iranian Jews (many of whom had passed their young days in Sarechal), brought on by the Islamic Revolution. Now, decades later, we seem to have been transplanted in foreign soil, but our roots run back to our old mahaleh. As with many sub-cultures in Iran, the Judeo-Persian traditions were very strong, particularly in those families originally from Mashad, Hamadan, Esfahan and Kashan. The Persian culture and education also played a big role in some of our lives, influencing our behavior and sense of belonging. Some of us may feel nostalgic about Sarechal and its surrounding neighborhoods. Others may never want to think about the place or their lives there again, or to remember how they had been torn between cultures and subcultures, struggling to be accepted and fighting problems of self-identity. Memories and Hopes One thing is clear to me, I cannot forget the memories of Sarechal, its streets, shops, people, smells, and music. I remember the fights with Moslem toughs to enter its roads (kuche), and the struggle to depart from it without getting into trouble. The memories of the life in Etehad, the Jewish school, with its students, teachers, headmasters and nazems are the strongest memories of my life in Iran. The education at Etehad is the source of dreams I still have. In these dreams I revisit my old friends, the things we did in school, the fantasies we had and our plans to achieve those fantasies. I remember the Jewish holidays, and the Muslim holidays and am still fascinated by the differences and the knowledge that these holidays had been celebrated in the South of Tehran side by side for centuries. I can’t forget singing "Mizmor le David" in the synagogue in Sarechal. Nor can I forget the beautiful music of “Allah ‘o Akbar” at noontime and the Muslim friends that put religion aside and offered me their friendship. PersianRabbi.com expreses its appreciaion to Mr. Eshagh Shaoul of SareChal.com for the the content of this article and Dr. Houman Sarshar of The Center for Iranian Jewish Oral History for the images above.
|
