I’ve got two of four children in the car on an ambitious adventure to bring home a goldfish for the Persian New Year, which is exactly one week away. Every year around this time, as Nowruz approaches, the onset of immigrant-daughter guilt percolates. Will I gather the items for this year’s sofreh-haft-seen?
Yes woman, rally. I have to, I want to. Last year was a bust: I had been confused, exhausted and laden with the feeling that we were at the edge of a precipice. This year, I’m saddled with at least two of those feelings still, but I’m determined.
Ezzy is babbling. “Okay so we need seeb, wight? Apples…because in Fawsi apples stawt with S.” She pauses.
“We need.…eggs to paint wight Mama, what else?” She stops again. Waits for my response. I adjust the rearview mirror and smile at her, then Eloisa, who is pushing buttons in the hopes of opening the window.
“Because in the language you used to talk apple doesn’t start with A, wight?”
She’s mulling things over. I flinch slightly at her accusation that Farsi is a language I used to speak, though she’s not entirely incorrect. Farsi is reserved for Afi, and Ameh Joon Shokooh, and all my cousins in Iran. I respond to my parents in English. With my siblings, English. There it is again, immigrant-daughter guilt.
I take a deep breath. “Yes beautiful,” I tell her. “Remember the book we just read? Seven Special Somethings? We need to collect seven special things for the sofreh that start with the S sound in Farsi like seer, which is garlic, and sekkeh, which are coins, and serkeh, which is vinegar…We need seven of those things. We’ll paint eggs and we’ll put family photos of the people we love on the sofreh too. And what else?”
“And a fish.” Not a question.
“Correct. Because a goldfish represents…” I fumble. Immigrant-daughter guilt.
“Being alive.” She grins, finishing my sentence.
Good, great. A modicum of guilt dissipates. She gets it.
Back in the car with a beta, a silk flower and a half-gallon tank I hope won’t show plastic in pictures, we discuss fish names.
“Should we call it Fishie?” she asks.
“How about Mishie,” I respond, not really serious.
She crinkles her face as if this is the most ridiculous suggestion on the planet, and I laugh because my girl isn’t wrong.
“How about a word in Farsi?” I suggest.
She thinks this, too, is ridiculous, because “we won’t understand it!”
“So? You’ll learn! You can call it Mahi,” I tell her. But when she finds out mahi means fish in Farsi, she deems my idea unacceptable.
We’re cruising down Fullerton and nearly home, passing the Cuban restaurant and car wash. I press the turn signal.
“How about gooz,” Let’s not take life too seriously, I think. I laugh at myself. “That’s a very good fishie name.”
I glance in the rearview mirror again to see her reaction before I explain. Slight puzzlement, and intrigue.
“What does that mean?”
I smile. “Fart.”
She erupts into hysterics, and I’m grinning as we pull onto our block. When we pull up, she unbuckles herself carefully, shifting the plastic container with the fish from one hand to the other. Eliana and Ehsan approach to see what we came home with, and Ezzy announces, “This, is Gooz.” She holds it up and cheeses wide.
Side-eyes me, smiles bigger. Our little secret no longer.
“His name means fawt.”
Slice of Life, Day 15
I love so much about this. I love the w sound for r. 2/3 of my daughters are still working on r. I love these car conversations. I’ve written about so many of these moments that force us to slow down, to notice and listen. Then there is the naming of the fish and that side eye at the end. You’re doing a great job. You’ll be happy to have this moment recorded.
Love this! I want more pictures of the little fart-fish. The interactions and the language back and forth bring readers right there with you, and the repetition of immigrant daughter guilt brings in the importance of the piece.
Remind me not to tell Ezzy any secrets.
The immigrant daughter guilt mixed with fart humor was simply grand. Thank you for linking the articles so I could learn more about this meaningful tradition you hope to pass onto your children. As I read your piece, I thought of Sara Ahmed and her beautiful thoughts on hyphenated identities. I felt the sting of your "slight flinch" when you write, "the accusation of a language I used to speak." I’m so glad I tune into your blog daily to learn from your truth, your stories, and your heart.
As a librarian who loves to read-aloud books with farts and underwear in them, I heartily approve of this post, with giggles to boot. I don’t really have immigrant-daughter guilt–too many generations have passed since either side landed on American shores–but I do enjoy celebrating the holidays of my heritage. This week, Seamus the leprechaun will be sending his usual gold chocolate coins to the collegeboy, who won’t have to hunt for them this year.
Your sweet slice has me remembering all the deep car conversations I’ve had with my daughters (now 22 and 24). Welcome to Gooz and enjoy the new year celebration!
We wish you and your family a very happy Nowruz and your conversation with your children made me smile thinking of my grandchildren 🙂
Love this – it is one you will save and share with them when they are older. I learned so much from reading this — perfect picture book narrative with an informational panel in the back. Can’t you picture it? I’m holding it in my hands (and my arms are broken!)
I love this! I think it’s great that you end with her sharing your shared moment – she cared more about giving everyone else a good laugh than keeping it just to herself. Really cute. Gooz is going to be very loved! You can tell just from the pictures.
I love this story. It gives me so much hope that we as first, second, and third generations will preserve our beautiful traditions and pass it on. Long live Gooz Fish.
Hahahaha, I am laughing just picturing her pride at announcing the name of the fish! The blend of narration, cute kid dialogue, and your inner thoughts really brought this piece to life! I also really enjoyed reading about the Haft Seen on the link you included. A delightful exploration of culture, language, immigrant family life, and everyday family joy!