Being Yazdi, and having the opportunity to travel back to the village my mom’s family is from was a great joy. I love learning history; walking through this village and looking at it from the rooftops was breathtaking. The inside of the homes is modernized while the outside maintains the original architecture. Entering through the 100-year-old doors, it was like being teleported into a different world. One where the streets have men and women leaving the temple after prayer. The women in colorful headscarves and the men wearing white hats. The aroma of sandalwood is still settling while families wait for the tea to steep. Platters of feta cheese, freshly collected noon-barbari (thick bread) from the bakery, a plate of herbs and veggies, as well as preserves.
Thinking of this image, I am reminded of my grandmother. As a child, this was very much the image I see. The only difference is every she would burn rue seeds (esphand dood kard) and say the morning prayers before we would have breakfast on the patio. I can imagine the same thing happening every morning in Mazraeh-ye kalantar.
