Nannoo and Me

 

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Hello

 This isn't going to be a real book. This is a place dedicated to my nan  (as the English may call theirs).

First off, she comes from somewhere far away, without her, I wouldn't be here. I talk about her alot in class. That is because I miss her. No one must know that I am writing this, apart from you.


My Nannoo can speak Persian. She comes from South Tehran, which is the capital of Iran. If you don't know where that is, its above Saudi Arabia. She lived in a big house with five other siblings. I can't remember them all, the one I can remember is my great auntie Fataneh. She tells me that her father was very strict and she had to put up with two pairs of shoes a year. When she was little, she rubbed her shoes along the ground to wear them out so she can buy new ones! This was a daily activity that she did with her sister, Auntie Fataneh. My Nannoo (aka Farah) came over to England for a holiday when she was 19, and soon enough, she decided to stay. She met a man and had my mum. Unfortunately, he died when my mum was in her late teens. I never got to see him. I don't even know his name. Anyway, life carried on and my mum found my dad, and made me. My first memories with Nannoo was when she first fed me her famous lamb mince kebabs. Whilst I was in the push chair she broke down the kebab and shoved it in my mouth! I love her Kebab to this day and will never forget this memory. She also used to push me in my push chair around town for I especially loved the pet store with all the little fishes. Everytime I see her, she says a phrase I will someday understand: 'Kobe nit to am bill am illahee, azizdile Nannoo!' Which I thought meant: 'Good little girl of mine. Your a dear to Nannoo.' Azizam means dear and In Kobe means very good and the rest I guessed. I ask her to teach me Persian, but she shakes her head and sighs. The only time she taught me was about two years ago and I can't remember the vocabulary. I think she didn't want me learn because she isn't good at explaining. The only way she thinks I can learn is if I go to Iran, which my mum doesn't approve of. This is where Auntie Fataneh comes in. One day I somehow got Auntie Fataneh's number when she moved over to America with all the other siblings and her sister in law; Faidim.( Faidim once came to England, she was pretty and really fun!) This was my chance for me to learn Persian. I wanted to learn it because before Nannoo dies, I will tell her many things in Persian, and she will be happy and remember it forever. Here are some of the phrases I learnt off of my Auntie Fataneh:

Salam: Hello.

Man Esme am: I am Esme.

Azidanet kosh bah dam: It is nice to meet you.

Halet chetoreh?: How are you?

In Kobeh: Very good.

Merci: Thank you

Quadofice: Goodbye.

Azizam: My dear

Va: and (Nannoo Va man- Persian title!) 

Man: me/my

Notice that the k will roll in your throat when you say 'kosh' or 'Kobeh'. Persian people have a different writing scheme altogether so this is what it sounds like with English words.


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Nannoo's problems

 Did you actually think my Nannoo's life was all easy? Think again! A few months ago, my mum and Nannoo had a fight, and now they barely talk. They used to be standard friends but now that has changed. We still visit, but I have to force my mum to drive there. She lives 30 mins away, and that is the closest we live to any of our relatives. And everytime we come round, I insist on Nannoo making kebabs or Googi kebab (basically chicken and rice). It's just the best!


This is where life gets sad. My Nannoo...smokes. 4 a day at least. It hurts me everytime she does it. It hurts her everytime she does it. It hurts the world everytime she does it. A friend introduced it to her. And now, Nannoo has to suffer from her mistakes. Now she has asthma, bad chesty coughs and a dead arm. One day, my mum had to rush over to her house to take to the hospital because it hurt that bad. And you are probably yelling at the screen: My nan has blah blah blah! My blah blah died of blah blah and I cried like a whale! Look, I'm sorry. If this hasn't happened to you, you probably think I'm a weirdo. If it has, then I share my deepest sorrows with you. I have been there too, but that's a different story. If she keeps smoking, she will..... Well I don't want to talk about it. That is why I love her so much. That is why I force myself to speak to her. She is on her own. On the phone I ask her: 'What have you been doing over the past week?' And she says 'Nothing angel, nothing. I sit in my chair and wait for you to call me. I get very excited when you call me!' See. This is also why I'm worried. If she spends all her time left doing nothing she will be sad. I don't want her to be sad. A good thing is, I was told her husband's name: Rodger. If he were alive, I would call him Papa Rodger. When I was younger, my mum told me about him. I used imagine he was a ghost living in my house when I got home from school. He only came to life if it was a certain lighting in the house as well as if I was sad. And to be honest, sometimes I still do imagine that he stands there, with me talking to him about my problems, when I talk about him, it's mostly blanked. We only have one photo of him, standing with my mum. He looks too old to be a dad. He doesn't look foreign, like an ordinary grandpa. But, with extra warmth inside him. The one of very few things my mum has told me about him is when she crashed his car before her driving test. And, from what I could tell, he had no power in their household. Nannoo was busy cooking whilst he was hard at work. Leaving my mum alone. Although, every Friday, they went to the ice cream store together and got my mum an ice cream! The lucky thing!

My friends, if you are reading this, the reason I want to be an environmentalist is because I would ban smoking. So I could stop young and old vulnerable people dying of smoking. (also save the turtles) That won't happen in my Nannoo's lifetime, but in others lifetime. Just because my Nannoo could die of smoking, doesn't mean that I can't stop other nans dying of smoking. Recently, my mum was searching up my Nannoo's symptoms and there was very bad news. The conclusion is, she wasn't going to get better. Sometimes, I randomly cry about her. If you see me stressing, crying and putting my middle finger up at the sky it's because of Nannoo. No, it's not god or the sky's fault. I just needed to take my upset out on something that won't get upset. 

My Nannoo is a Muslim. Not anymore anyway. She once told me that when she went to pray they turned to pray in every direction and had to say this weird saying. She has laminated the saying and put it on her wall. Not like she would ever use it. This is not very important, but I take religion, gays, elderly, the disabled and others very seriously. Especially when someone bullies someone for being ugly.

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Thank you

 Thank you for reading this. Thank you so much. If you are a person in power, who could ban smoking, or stop hate in this world. If I could save my Nannoo for another 50 years. Please. Help this messed up world. Where we are locked in a cage we built ourselves. Like Nannoo. I love her... And I thank you.


Here is a song I wrote about Nannoo: (if this is cringe just leave 🤣)

Close your eyes

It'll heal the the pain.

I know, it's hard

To speak with your mouth closed


Stuck in a cage that you built yourself,

And it hurts the people on the shelf.

To decide whether you should go or stay,

But stay my dear it'll be ok.


And then repeat the first bit 😂

Thank you

Esmé

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