Sahba Rohani, 30, a kindergarten teacher in Brooklyn, recently went to Istanbul, Turkey, to be with more than 30 relatives, who, like her, belong to the Baha'i Faith. Some family members traveled from Iran, where they are persecuted for belonging to the Faith. Others, like Ms. Rohani’s parents, had fled Iran in the ‘70s to countries where they’re allowed to freely practice their religion.


Sahba RohaniA number of relatives were meeting for the first time, others for the first time in 34 years. Ms. Rohani, who was born and reared in the United States, got acquainted with one cousin, who shares her passion for education but has been denied access to higher education in Iran because she is a Baha’i. Hearing her cousin and other relatives recount their stories of suffering and oppression brought Ms. Rohani to tears.

Back in Brooklyn, she thought about how close and connected the gathering made her feel to her culture. Moved by her strong emotions, she composed the following letter, which she sent to friends and family:

“If I were to explain to you in mere words the account of this journey, I would fill pages with letters and sounds to try to adequately express the thoughts and experiences of this precious time. But feelings - emotions felt by the heart and resonated in the soul --can never be appropriately expressed by words alone. My attempt follows:

I spent five days surrounded by family. My grandparents reunited with all seven of their children after 34 years of separation. Cousins meeting and embracing for the first time, like two cultures colliding and instantly spinning into a whirlwind of love.

Initial reactions were minimal, too overcome with pure joy to analyze the personalities and put any deep thought to the pure love and sheer happiness.

A few days passed before I started to realize I had her eyes, his sense of humor and her knack for management. Soon, all personalities fused into one. Soon, love was deepened by understanding, communication and simple listening. We spent hours sharing stories of the past, recollecting experiences and explaining circumstances. Realizing commonalities and awed by differences.

I live a life of absolute freedom. I choose the way I wish to live; who I want to love, consort with and connect with. I not only have the luxury of choosing my own field of study, but I am blessed to have had the opportunity to learn at the most prestigious of universities, to acquire knowledge from those with a great deal of training and experience.

I live a life of comfort and ease. A life I easily take for granted and appreciate the value of on occasion. I could venture to say that I have grown up in a state of ignorant bliss. I understand that people suffer, have traveled near, far, by car and by plane to experience myriad cultures and ways of existence. Each interaction has brought with it growing opportunities, a chance to re-evaluate myself and begin to understand the purpose of my existence.

But all of these experiences, however powerful and influential, never shook me to the core until I was face to face with one of my own. To know their struggle is to know a life that so easily could have been mine. Had circumstances not led my parents to the “land of opportunity,” their oppression would be my story. To be covered from head to toe, bullied and scrutinized for your beliefs, denied access to higher education, not allowed to work and refused a bank account. How are you expected to survive?

"They call me 'kaseef’ (dirty), my 15-year-old cousin explains to me, when I asked him what school is like for him as a Baha'i, "and sometimes they separate themselves from me, but it's okay.” Had he said this with the slightest hint of anger in his voice I would have reacted differently. But to hear his sincerity and see the genuine love in his eyes, I could respond in no other way but to weep.

For three months my 70-year-old grandmother was placed in prison because she believes, in the words of Baha’u’llah, that “the earth is but one country and mankind its citizens.” She was treated like an animal, situated amid prostitutes and drug dealers, without her husband’s knowledge of the state of her existence or contact with family. She lived and suffered because of the faith she professes.

If I could write pages and pages, I would write of the lives of these souls, so rich in experience, laden with struggle and saturated in love have their full lives been. Not until the heart connects with theirs, and eyes lock, do you grasp the severity of their situation.

They are stripped of all human rights, while I live a life of freedom. They are oppressed, beaten and scorned for their beliefs, while I am able to openly express my love for my Creator, explain to others the way I worship and talk about the ideas I possess.

If I could explain the love in my family’s eyes with the scratchings of my pen and offer it to you as a gift, I would. It is a love so intense it burns at the edges of the soul with such purity that you fear that speaking even a word would defile it. It is the most uplifted I have ever been, the most moved, the most touched.

Indeed, God has a great plan for us all. The meaning of our family gathering, our crossing of paths across the ocean, will become evident in time.

All I can do is remember -- and hope that the impression they have left on me -- remains engraved on my heart forever. That my actions may mirror the spirit of that encounter and my life be moved accordingly.

Sahba