Jean Wilkey

I Dream of a Country

by MAAVA

I’m sitting on a white bench in the park nearest to my house, beneath a tall maple tree. I hear children playing freely, unconcerned about their homework or about the chores they need to do at home. I close my eyes so I can focus on the sounds — the birds and the children who call one another by name in loud, joyful voices. As I’m listening, a train of thoughts passes through my mind, thoughts that take shape as dreams about the future of Iran, my beloved country. My thoughts are so vivid that I feel I need to write them down.

I dream of a country in which everyone is free to attend university, regardless of their religion, a country in which women and men are not executed for their beliefs. I dream that Chowgan Square, the scene of the martyrdom of ten brave Bahá’í women in June 1983, will become a garden overflowing with tulips, daisies, and lilies, and with a marble fountain at its center. I dream that all people will know the story of these ten women who so bravely gave up their lives, and that their stories will be published widely and read by many people.

I dream of a country where women are not penalized or fined for embracing what should be everyday freedoms, such as dressing as they like; a country where people with different ideas can live side by side in harmony; a country in which female activists will be encouraged to participate in human rights conferences all over the world; a country in which streets will be named after those who were killed in the recent uprising; a country in which there will be no mandatory hijab; a country in which no child will be forced to marry at a young age; a country in which men and women can live and work together as equals, like the “two wings of a bird,” to use ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s words.

I dream of a country that has flourished economically; a country in which the number of poor people has been reduced to a minimum; a country in which all people have a place to live and there are no homeless; a country which relies on its knowledge, rather than its oil. In the country I dream of, all people are educated and have respectable jobs. No one needs to turn to illegal activities, such as drug dealing, to make ends meet. I dream of a country in which architecture will flourish and structures as magnificent as the Si o Se Pol Bridge will once again be built. I dream of a country that returns to its two-thousand-five-hundred-year-old glory, a country in which the Bahá’í Faith has spread to all parts of Iran and the number of people who believe in Bahá’u’lláh has doubled. In the country I dream of people will respect one other’s ideas and nobody will be humiliated or imprisoned for his or her beliefs.

Maybe the Iran I write about seems more like a fantasy than a reality, but I believe that if we have true faith, if we make efforts and keep hope alive, we will surely see one day the Iran I am dreaming of — the Iran promised in the Bahá’í Writings.