The Parachuter (Chatrbaaz) VR – 2021It was the fourth year/ since the establishment of my mother’s business. / The business she started when we realized I can’t make ends meet / while studying at the art university in California. It was by my insistence, that my mom entered this officially and legally. She started a corporation registered in the US, we paid taxes and we’ve got sales permits,
We started to buy wholesale from large suppliers,
The boxes would come directly to the house, together with the catalogs and the complete sizing and measurements.
There was only one problem: The country of destination for the items to be sold not only had zero business relations with the US, but also suffered a full embargo for decades. We somehow became the peacemakers’ delegation and started to make contacts.
The clothes would be shipped to Dubai by post, the shipping company would receive the parcel and would send them along with the fabrics which my father would order each season from the UAE.
Slowly the sanctions grew heavier and harder and the exchange rate for the US Dollars was on the rise, the same would go with the shipping costs and transport.
There was the only option left:
To go to Iran a few times a year with suitcases full of night dresses and evening gowns.
At first I would travel only during summer breaks, but as the shop in Iran has been slightly successful, we had to go 2-3 times a year instead of once a year, the plane tickets would cost much less than shipping from Dubai now. The dresses should be warped in a certain way, so their shiny and glittery sides were not visible. We would cover the dresses with matte papers and make them inside out and tie them together in a way that the custom officers at the airport wouldn’t bother to go through them thoroughly.
Shopping the dresses and packing them were the fun part.
getting on board the plane, reading books and watching films were the same as for any other passenger.
But the real fear would come when you would get on board the next flight from Dubai to reach your final destination, the Tehran International Airport, where you would be scared tremendously with cold sweat on your forehead.
You can’t even talk to the person sitting next to you, you wish you could only travel to Tehran just like any other person.
That year unlike always, I was alone, and being alone was so much more difficult as it was my mom who knew how to talk with the inspectors. Sound_05_06
“What’s wrong with that I am serving the country, we don’t have [proper] evening dress in Iran and we are sanctioned, even a single grain can’t be imported, I’m bringing quality [American!] clothes!”
Or she explain say:
“It’s my daughter’s wedding, we have a tradition to give wedding dresses as a gift to the guests, Tell me what to do? Should I be dishonored in front of my family?
Or she might say:
Am I too foolish to bring all these dresses [into the country], Family and acquaintances gave money to me so I could buy these, and it’s so unfair that I pay a fine on behalf of them!”
Sometimes, there was a stubborn person in charge, and she would say: “Ok, but only this time let me go, it won’t happen again.” Then, she would get rid of him by giving him a wrong phone number or any other creative way she could think of.
“But what the heck should I be doing? I couldn’t tell any of those stories, I just don’t know how, and I don’t have the tongue either.”
Long story short, in this particular trip except two suitcases full of night dresses, I had a hang bag and camera bag full of clothes too. I should say that instead of 2 months I have been away, that I came back after a year.
“The inspector would be looking at me and believe me if he feels like to, otherwise he would ask for my passport, to see my entry stamps, to decide if I can go through the green line with no customs inspection, or god forbid he might point me toward the red corridor, the x-ray machine and tables at the end of the hall, where they open up suitcases for a full search.” ....
You Can read the Entire Story at: https://speculativeartliterature.wordpress.com/
We started to buy wholesale from large suppliers,
The boxes would come directly to the house, together with the catalogs and the complete sizing and measurements.
There was only one problem: The country of destination for the items to be sold not only had zero business relations with the US, but also suffered a full embargo for decades. We somehow became the peacemakers’ delegation and started to make contacts.
The clothes would be shipped to Dubai by post, the shipping company would receive the parcel and would send them along with the fabrics which my father would order each season from the UAE.
Slowly the sanctions grew heavier and harder and the exchange rate for the US Dollars was on the rise, the same would go with the shipping costs and transport.
There was the only option left:
To go to Iran a few times a year with suitcases full of night dresses and evening gowns.
At first I would travel only during summer breaks, but as the shop in Iran has been slightly successful, we had to go 2-3 times a year instead of once a year, the plane tickets would cost much less than shipping from Dubai now. The dresses should be warped in a certain way, so their shiny and glittery sides were not visible. We would cover the dresses with matte papers and make them inside out and tie them together in a way that the custom officers at the airport wouldn’t bother to go through them thoroughly.
Shopping the dresses and packing them were the fun part.
getting on board the plane, reading books and watching films were the same as for any other passenger.
But the real fear would come when you would get on board the next flight from Dubai to reach your final destination, the Tehran International Airport, where you would be scared tremendously with cold sweat on your forehead.
You can’t even talk to the person sitting next to you, you wish you could only travel to Tehran just like any other person.
That year unlike always, I was alone, and being alone was so much more difficult as it was my mom who knew how to talk with the inspectors. Sound_05_06
“What’s wrong with that I am serving the country, we don’t have [proper] evening dress in Iran and we are sanctioned, even a single grain can’t be imported, I’m bringing quality [American!] clothes!”
Or she explain say:
“It’s my daughter’s wedding, we have a tradition to give wedding dresses as a gift to the guests, Tell me what to do? Should I be dishonored in front of my family?
Or she might say:
Am I too foolish to bring all these dresses [into the country], Family and acquaintances gave money to me so I could buy these, and it’s so unfair that I pay a fine on behalf of them!”
Sometimes, there was a stubborn person in charge, and she would say: “Ok, but only this time let me go, it won’t happen again.” Then, she would get rid of him by giving him a wrong phone number or any other creative way she could think of.
“But what the heck should I be doing? I couldn’t tell any of those stories, I just don’t know how, and I don’t have the tongue either.”
Long story short, in this particular trip except two suitcases full of night dresses, I had a hang bag and camera bag full of clothes too. I should say that instead of 2 months I have been away, that I came back after a year.
“The inspector would be looking at me and believe me if he feels like to, otherwise he would ask for my passport, to see my entry stamps, to decide if I can go through the green line with no customs inspection, or god forbid he might point me toward the red corridor, the x-ray machine and tables at the end of the hall, where they open up suitcases for a full search.” ....
You Can read the Entire Story at: https://speculativeartliterature.wordpress.com/