I was born in a village named "Fesharak."
The "i" at the end of my name relates me to that place, to indicate "from Fesharak."
The name itself is from (I believe, thanks to the available historical information,) "frašōkərəti" pronounced "Frashokereti."
"Frashokereti" is coming from the Avestan language term...for the Zoroastrian doctrine...a final renovation of the universe, when evil will be destroyed, and everything else will be in perfect unity with God (Ahura Mazda).
I was a child when, at the feet of a mountain near the village "Shedeh" the remains of a person was found. "Has pubic hair and is not buried, must be a Zoroastrian," we were told and now, I can believe it not only because both of them are not matching Islamic culture that also since do know that Zoroastrians, like most of the Americas' Indigenous and Natives, left their dead in the open and, mostly, on the heights. The corpses, in many occasions, fed other creatures, vultures.
The new cemetery is on the opposite side of the road from the Zoroastrians' scared place.
This can mean that converting to Islam did not mean hating or damning Zoroastrianism, which had, for generations, been practiced and made the village. People's hearts remained with their past and ancestors.
I strongly believe, thanks to my extensive research, that my ancestors were from the citizens of Sepahan (Today's Isfahan) and from a higher cast. They could not accept the capitulation of the invader that demanded: "Convert, pay extra to be protected, or face the consequences!)
They chose to migrate. They escaped with nothing but a shirt on their skins.
Wandering in valleys and struggling with the heights, they did what the Quechuas did hundreds of years later, not to surrender to the Spanish occupiers.
Finally, they found and settled in a green and prosperous area and called it: "Heaven!"
They did so because to them, they had already crossed the " Chinvat Bridge.
Chinvat Bridge, for Zoroastrians, is the bridge that one must cross to get to heaven.
They saw the failure of "Ahriman" and the unity with "Ahura Mazda."
Separated from the civilization and technology, they had no tool to flatten the area and till the land but were happy and proud to have protected their faith and their freedom.
They used their bare hands, flattened the land, dug deep into the hearts of the hills and made caves "Oshkandeh'," to reside and protect their animals.
(Some of these magnificent places are still around.)
It must have taken them some time to build houses and move out of those caves, which, later, they used only for the domestic animals.
I recall the tough and cold winter days and how the ship and goats were kept in Oshkandeh. I adore the system and the methods used to protect the animals, smart, wise and supreme.
A long opening in the roof let the air circulate while the animals were protected from wolves.
I can never forget my curious days, standing on a side and staring at the cone of sunlight...many wandering particles floated and changes forms like the insects and worms.
Men gathered bushes and leaves and set them on the wall side. I do not know how but in a way that they never fell. Leaves descended as soon as the lower parts were eaten.
In the springs, the animals were taken out and their dropping would be used as fertilizer.
Our ancestors' greatest gift, as I think, is their wisdom for us. That is, as I see,: "Do not accept the cage, live free as do the birds, keep your dignity, stand tall and do not bow, trust yourself and be confident. Never stop learning, do not, ever, give in to the bullies. Stand on your feet and be like trees, die while standing. Be water and current and travel to see the world. Do not stay in a pond to become swamp. Fight illiteracy and corruption. This is your main duty."
Talking about my village is not from selfishness...
It is for a worldwide, research, comparison.
Like our Indigenous siblings elsewhere, we had our herds and our freedom...
We have lost both! Why?
The Indians, in the Westerns films, are shrewd horsemen and gunners! Why?
We had no watch tower till...why?
This is a photo of my mother's family tree that includes me and even my children. I am asked to believe what my mother was brainwashed to believe: "43rd generation of the Islam's Prophet.
With such an idea, she expected to be treated as a superior person to those who did not carry such a blood!
I took my DNA test and science says that I do not have Arabic blood. Therefore some people must have taken advantage of the publics' unawareness and the situation to fool the rest and I...