In 2001 Mojtaba was 9 years old. He was small and scruffy
with dishevelled hair. It was clear from his look that he lived in a violent
environment. He spent most of his day, even night outside his home. He belongs
to a tribe which was tagged as outsider. He was expelled from school the very
first year and never went back. This was the first shock that I had from his
condition; expelled from the first year of school! The ministry of education
had spread propaganda about its success in education and extensive coverage. It
had totally denied expelling any student from school. Perhaps this claim meant
that there was in fact no dossier for Mojtaba or his like to show that they
were students and expelled. Therefore the ministry of education did not hold
itself responsible to follow up their case. When someone doesn’t exist and
doesn’t have identity, what does it matter what happens to him?
The second shock was when Mojtaba could multiply three-digit by
1-digit numbers in his mind, whereas what is taught at first grade is utmost
adding and subtracting numbers. This was unbelievable. How smart and bright
this child was that he had learned to such extent without even reaching the
third level and learning about multiplication table. I don’t know how he had
learned; maybe he had learned the basics from the older kids then learned the
rest by himself. But now this kid, this genius, this future is expelled from
school and is spending all his time in the dirty streets of the southern part
of the city. He could have a bright future. Not bright, but good future or at
least not a dark and vague future because he has something that is so valuable.
Maybe if he was in another family or another environment, he could go to the
school for gifted children without much money and become one of the geniuses of
the future and...
In 2008 Mojtaba was 16. It was a few years since I last saw him. He had grown up and was sweet as his childhood. He was still scruffy but the traces of violence were more evident. This time, apart from violence, trace of affliction was visible. He earned from stealing and his job was to run away. He looked pale. When I told him that I had kept the painting he had done 7 years ago because it is valuable to me, he didn’t remember and I couldn’t read from his eyes what his feeling was and if this really mattered to him. He wasn’t as agile and mischievous as before. His look was curious but crooked; it was as if all that genius was locked with a chain. I asked him if he still could multiply 3-digit by 1-digit numbers. He glanced at me and then stared at an unclear point, as if he was never able to do that. He was caught up in drugs and this was the not very uncommon situation of his life and that of his tribe.
Now all he thinks is how to earn money, how to get drugs and to run away and not be busted. That’s it.
Mojtaba was gone... Mojtabas are gone...
In 2008 Mojtaba was 16. It was a few years since I last saw him. He had grown up and was sweet as his childhood. He was still scruffy but the traces of violence were more evident. This time, apart from violence, trace of affliction was visible. He earned from stealing and his job was to run away. He looked pale. When I told him that I had kept the painting he had done 7 years ago because it is valuable to me, he didn’t remember and I couldn’t read from his eyes what his feeling was and if this really mattered to him. He wasn’t as agile and mischievous as before. His look was curious but crooked; it was as if all that genius was locked with a chain. I asked him if he still could multiply 3-digit by 1-digit numbers. He glanced at me and then stared at an unclear point, as if he was never able to do that. He was caught up in drugs and this was the not very uncommon situation of his life and that of his tribe.
Now all he thinks is how to earn money, how to get drugs and to run away and not be busted. That’s it.
Mojtaba was gone... Mojtabas are gone...
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