Chapter 2: Migration to Iran

I am not sure whether the events that followed was a direct result of this misfortune or they were already in planning stages and this event was the last straw that culminated in the definite action. All we know is that by December of 1929 (six months after my sister's demise) my parents, my grandmother, and I were on our way to Iran.

It was a known fact that my father was not too enamored with Communism or their approach to private business or ownership, and having been under their constant pressure and scrutiny for 10 or 12 years [he] was already planning for sometime in preparation for this move. We don't know for how long, but we know that for some time prior to our departure, my father had been transferring certain sums of money or other valuables to an acquaintance of his in Tehran, so that when he did arrive there, they would in partnership, start a business together.

So, in December of 1929 we traveled from Sukhumi to Baku, in Azerbaijan,a southwestern port city on the Caspian sea (it is actually a lake-the largest lake in the world) from where we sailed to Bandare Pahlavi a port city in Iran, on the southern shores of the Caspian sea. From there we motored to Tehran the capital city of Iran. After procuring a residence, and settling -in,my father then went to see his friend and partner, Haroutune Aidinian, whom he had been sending funds from Sukhumi as his share of the partnership for the business they were going to establish together. Well, to make a long story short, his friend denied ever receiving any funds at all,and left him out in the cold. This was a terrible blow to my father, both financially and mentally, and left an indelible scar upon his belief and trust in human beings in general, and so-called friends in particular.

Coincidentally, they had already started a business , a coffee store called AIBETA before we even arrived in Tehran. I say they because it was a known fact that the partner's wife Nazig was very much involved in their decision making, and in fact she may have been the instigator of usurping my father's share. This is not just an idle accusation for as time went on and as things evolved it became quite apparent that she [was] not only was a shrewd and cunning person, but also devoid of moral standards and ethical values. So, my father became involved in litigation, trying to get back what was rightfully his. But this was a long and drawn out process, and at the same time, he was concerned about using up what little savings he had left.

Meanwhile, in November 22, 1930, less than a year after our arrival in Iran, my brother Garabed was born, named after my paternal grandfather. It would seem, perhaps as such an inopportune time to have a new baby, when everything was going wrong and upside down, but in reality, it was quite the opposite. It appears, it was not only proper, but essential, to have the mother be preoccupied with a new baby when she was still in deep chagrin over the loss of her baby daughter, it was also good for my father, who was having all the business setbacks as well.

So in retrospect, it was indeed a good time to bring some joy to the family when it was most needed. Furthermore there was my grandmother Surpouhi, who was a great help to my mother in cooking, washing and all around chores, but also in wise advice and comforting thoughts. My grandmother, this slight woman (under 5 feet), very slender, but strong as an oak tree, who never saw the inside of a school, could not sign her name, yet she had terrific insight and good judgment and common sense about a lot of things. She was married when twelve years old (old custom), bore eleven children-of which, five survived,the rest were lost by either miscarriage or died. Lived through many adversities yet was able to be helpful in times of calamity.

Speaking of my brother Garo, his arrival was indeed a joyful event. Made everyday humdrum life more bearable, pleasant and joyful for my parents. As for me, I was about 4 1/2 years old and I suppose I was very glad to have a playmate right in the house.

His name GARABED means Harbinger (bringer of good tidings) and is celebrated on January 14 , as Hovannes Mugurdich Garabed day, which translates John the Baptist, the Harbinger. I am not sure , but I think this was about the time when our other grandparents, Nushan and Verkine Kellejian arrived from Odessa.

Sometime in the year 1933, when I was 7 years old, my father finally found a store he could rent, and started his own independent business. It was located on the corner of Naderi and Ferdowsi avenues (#486 Ave. Naderi).

In the years to come, this was to become one of the best foot traffic locations of the city, which did help the business immensely. Added to this, also the fact that whenever we ground coffee, the smell of fresh ground coffee would be felt several blocks away. It was a very good location and he named it CAFE RIO. With what little resources he had left he managed to have some cabinets and shelves built, bought some containers for the ground coffee, a coffee grinding machine made in England, a primitive scale and weights for measuring the coffee for the customers.

He was able to acquire a roasting machine (hand turned) some firewood ,a cooling sifter,few gunny sacks,and he was ready for business,except he needed the most important thing the raw coffee,and did not have the money.

Well, the problem was that you just can not buy a couple of pounds (or Kilograms) of the raw stuff, because it is imported and comes in large gunny sacks full weighing a few hundred pounds. There were no regular stores for it. One had to go to the GRAND BAZAAR in the southern part of the city where all the big merchants and the importers were located. Anyhow he found a dealer (a middleman) who let him buy it on consignment,and thus, finally got the business going.

Speaking of the GRAND BAZAAR. In all the major cities in Iran, India and some other middle eastern countries there are these places called BAZAAR, which literally means MARKET, but it is much more than a market. It is the grand daddy of our modern day MALLS, and at least 20 times bigger than the biggest one we may have in Los Angeles. These Bazaars are all covered, and had skylights for light and ventilation. They encompassed several hundred stores(may be even thousand) and were sectionalized according to the merchandise they carried. They had been in existence for several hundred years,and when I left Iran it was still going strong. Ironically, in those days every merchant in every store carried an abacus (a hand calculator of that generation). Everything was calculated on them, with total accuracy and alacrity. They could not fit in the shirt pocket, but they could sure calculate in just a few flicks of one finger, that would surprise the most dexterous calculator handler of today. As a point of interest, I might add that, shopping in the bazaar was actually the most economical way of purchasing even the household comestibles such as, sugar, flour, rice, potatoes, onions...etc., if one could afford to do so. Also an important prerequisite to this method of shopping is the need for a basement in the house,to store all these gunnysacks full of foods for many months, without spoiling.

Getting back to the business and the store , it was a very slow start ,as I imagine it is with every new business. It probably is even more difficult if one has limited financial backing, as the case was with my father. But little by little it showed some signs of upward movement and within a couple of years it was pretty well established to a point where it had steady customers, return business, and an honest reputation. It certainly took a lot of hard work and a considerable amount of sacrifices to get on a solid footing, and this was accomplished with some selfleless help from my mother and grandmother.

They were the fabricators of the grease paper bags for dispensing coffee to the customers. At this period in time there were no ready made bag production available in Iran. It may seem funny to us now, but at that time, every thing that was bought in the stores, that needed to be wrapped, used to be put in a piece of newspaper formed into a cone, right on the spot, and tied with a thin thread spinning all around the cone many times and snapped off. So, we bought reams of grease paper ,and at home, we cut them in various size squares to fold into various size bags. Then we had to make our own mucilage by mixing some baking soda and water (for hygienic reasons, since coffee is a food product).

So it was this coordinated home-store effort that was a chief contributor to the success of the business. Speaking of coordinated cooperation, I must include the invaluable help offered by my mother to be able to run the store whenever my father had to run an errand , or otherwise be away from the store. Plus the fact, that everyday, she had to prepare lunch, not only for us, but also take lunch to the store for my father. And add to that the once or twice a week when he had to stay home to roast the coffee she would be manning the store.

I must also emphasize the fact that we still did not have the full grasp of the Persian language, added to the absence of telephone. It was very difficult to get a phone. In order to get one, we had to put in a request, then they put you on a quota, and then you wait until your number comes up. Having done all this, we thought our number should come up any time soon. Well, in 1952 (some twenty years later) when I left for America, we still did not have a phone nor did we have a running water pipeline, or sewage system. The point of all this being that the times and life in general was much slower paced in Iran than we are accustomed to here in America.

There was also another factor very much dominant in that country besides the slow unhurried approach to just about every aspect of life, work, or business, and that was the expeditious conclusion of any job was primarily based on how much you greased some official's palm. By that I mean any time anybody had any official business to be handled in any civic or state establishment with any official in any capacity, [he] could get his case resolved or fulfilled much faster if he offered some gratuity or tip (bribe) than if he waited for it to take its natural course. That was just a way of life at that time, and I think it is still that way even now.

By the middle of the year 1935, things were beginning to look rosy business wise, and otherwise. I was 9 years old, going to the Armenian school (4th grade) Garo was 4 1/2 years old, looking forward to go to kindergarden. Home life was also very much settled into a comfortable routine of daily chores. Everybody was looking forward to a better tomorrow. Happier days were seemingly ahead. One never knows what destiny has in store for you, despite your own visions or anticipations.

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