Physiotherapy Regina

Hi, my name is Mo, for short call me Mohammed :)

and this is my story

1. Welcome to my family:  

War zone, bring your guns or your shield if you want to be more safe.

I was born in Iran, into a family with three children and two completely different parents, different in their upbringings and values. I can't tell you the year I was born so you can't guess my age, but what I can tell you is that I look way younger than I am, handsome, smrt, hardworking, motivated and more than anything, humble. :)

Before I forget, there is another sister after me. Way after me, to be exact, 12 years younger.

 

My dad had a grade 5 education. He was a Tork, speaking Turkish, bald with a big tummy, or Rice belly, the Iranian version for a beer belly. My dad, Ali, was originally from the historical city of Hamadan and moved to Tehran as a young man along with his three brothers, mom, cousins, uncles and aunts and ..... Before joining the army he worked in a factory not too far from the Tehran University, where they made cement tiles. He had a lot of pride, he wanted to be important and to be scared of, he joined the army where he made a third of what he was making at the factory. I honestly believe he partly went to the army because he was rather lazy and didn't want to work hard and get his hands dirty.

 

Being in the army, my dad was transferred from one city to another, where he ended up renting a room at my grandma’s house in Kazeroon. The is where he got to know my mom.  In reality they knew very little of each other. I doubt it if they ever got to meet and talk much in person before getting married. My dad probably asked my grandma to have the honor of marrying her daughter. This was the tradition with the same routine process and talks that were used over and over, everywhere.

 

I like the west where you can get to know your future spouse well before you marry her. Maybe that's why I'm single! Hmmmm, I get to know her too well:)

 

My dad was the sole provider for the family, which partly gave him the upper hand, specifically with the younger boys who couldn't support mom. As we got older things changed and my mom got stronger and fought back by driving him nuts.

 

My mom had three sisters. Although she had a grade 4 education, she had a heart of gold and was the main source of love in the family. She loved bargaining and spending a lot of time to save as much as possible when it came to shopping. As means to encourage us to do better, constantly she compared us with others, saying the good things about others and wanting us to work towards those goals. Often those goals were related to saving money and less frequently about making it, but it was definitely not about education or sport. On the other hand my dad considered us to be the best in everything and better than everyone at all times, no reality check and both in rather extreme ends.

My mom and her sisters were from two different fathers. I believe her biological dad passed away and her mom re-married and then two other sisters were added to the family. Being poor they had to rent out a room to my dad. Marriage was a tradition and the avenue to make children whom can carry your name and legacy, as well as taking care of you when sick and providing for you when old, something like the old farming families here in Canada.

Thank god we have "Insurance" and retirement plans now, otherwise I would be in trouble.

 

After getting married, my parents moved to Zanjan where they gave birth to my two older sisters. My oldest sister was born with cerebral palsy and due to lack of good health care, it became worse as the time went on, to the extent that currently her body  is severely stiff and has minimal movement and flexibility. Now she is permanently bedridden in a laying down position, not even able to sit. She was one of the main reasons I became a physiotherapist. Well there was another reason as well that I'll mention later, it has to do with......? Unfortunately my being a physio hasn't been as much of help as I wanted it to be, with me being here in Canada.

After moving to a few different cities, my dad was transferred to Dezfool, a small city in the south west parts of Iran, where my brother, younger sister and I were born.

 

My parents never told us anything about their wedding; I believe I have only one picture. They were not the best match. The two of them had very different personalities, values and did not know how to get to common grounds, mainly due to their lack of social skills and not knowing how to work together, made this an an unhappy marriage, while divorce was not an option.

 

With some fights, ignoring each other and keeping busy with something was their escape. However it was very important to keep a face.  We were into showing off as if everything was just fine. My dad enjoyed showing off with his clothing, car and TV while my mom enjoyed showing off her property and something that added value instead of losing it.

 

I'm sure if she was here seeing me have a drink and food at a hotel lounge and writing this, she would hit me on the head, telling me that I could have eaten at home and had water to drink so that I could have saved more money. Well to make her spirit happy I'm not going to tip the server. :)

I do not ever remember my parents showing love or respect for each other, however I do remember a lot of arguments and fights. I do remember my dad raising his hand on my mom on two different occasions, the second one being when I was 14 years old. I did fight him back and did not talk to him for the next 4 years, although living under the same roof. My mom did fight back in her own way. I do remember a few incidents when she made my dad cry like a baby. She literally drove him nuts. I was absolutely shocked, since all the time my dad played a very strong and confident personality.

Due to the religious and cultural values, my parents never got to know each other before committing to a lifelong marriage.

Probably a short investment in better matchmaking and secondly a course in Living together 101 could have made all the difference for the remaining of their life and good part of our childhood life experience.

Author: Mohammed Nazari