Good Morning, today I thought I would share my memories and opinion on how Lockdown and Self Distancing its not something new to me. Here goes;
I think it best I set the proverbial scene so to speak, so you can understand why I think the way I do. When I was younger (7) my father had to find work overseas as there was literally no work in the UK. It was times of national strikes and black/brown outs, rubbish piling up on the streets and jobs were rare as rocking horse sh*t. My Father was offered a job (married status obvs) in one of the most beautiful countries Ive ever had the luck to visit on my travels and he accepted it and we were told we would be leaving Cardiff and the family and going off to live in a foreign country.
So one day myself and the fambo set off for Heathrow and on an adventure that none of us expected, anticipated or will ever forget. I remember it being ever so exciting, flying on such a large plane, the seats were huge and the food, well 1970’s plane food is not like todays fare, that’s for sure. We have a picture (those were the days were you put film in your camera) of my dad smoking a fag on the flight, yes back in those days you could smoke on a plane, (smoking seats were always at the back). Eventually we arrived and as I stepped off the plane onto the steps, I can still remember the smell of the heat, humidity and a completely different culture. We had arrived in Shiraz, Iran.
We all settled in well, being an expat back then was not like today, back then unless you worked for a major American company you lived in the community and not on a gated compound. We all took to it like ducks to water. Dad worked through the week and at weekends we would go on trips to see the wonders of Iran. We could travel in different directions and encounter different climates, one way was mountains and snow, another desert and bush and of course cities and villages. I do remember a days out to the Dariush Dam on the Kor river and who could forget jaw dropping Persepolis (personally you can keep the pyramids compared to that). Mum made it a point to learn the basics of the language and we picked up a few phrases and words here and there, so when out at local shops and markets, the Iranian shopkeepers loved us for learning their language and would teach us new words and phrases all the time and how to pronounce them properly. They would tell the name in Farsi and we would explain what we call it in English. I remember they would smile and wave to us getting on/off the school bus and we would wave back. I remember Mum would send us kids down to the local bakery to get some ‘Iranian’ bread, she would want 4 but always ask for 6 as she knew we would munch on the delicious warm fresh bread on the way back home. We would nip to the ‘corner’ shop just like here and be safe as houses without a worry or care. We had Iranian friends and would play out with them on a regular basis, they would teach us their language and culture and we would do the same. We would often be asked if Wales was in England, we would explain in pigeon English that no it was not but we were part of UK, so different from England, little did we know that this would make an impact in the times to come.
Then things changed: Long before the western world knew anything was a foot, life changed in Iran. The Shah was ousted and the Ayatollah was put in place, aka, the Revolution happened. Suddenly shopkeepers were wary of speaking or waving to us and we were no longer able to play out on the street with our Iranian friends.
One day in particular I remember Mum, myself, brother and sister were out as usual at the local bookstore getting an English language newspaper (not a British one but just what local one was available) and some school supplies (pencils, rulers etc) and as we left we were suddenly aware of this rumbling noise, suddenly the shopkeeper ran outside and told Mum to come inside quickly, grabbed the back of my top and ushered the 3 of us into and towards the back of the shop. The shopkeeper pulled the metal shutters down and locked them. He came over to us and kept telling us not to be frightened, then all hell broke loose. Suddenly we could hear shouting and the mob outside were banging and trying to pull off the shutters. The shopkeeper explained that is was a demonstration/mini riot against the Shah’s regime and the West and they had seen us go into the shop and were trying to get to us. He was so upset and kept asking us to forgive the angry people outside and he was our friend and we would be safe. I remember looking at him and smiling when he said that he was our friend and I swear he would’ve cried if he hadn’t been so frightened himself. Once the mob had passed and it was deemed safe, he opened the shutters and we thanked him and made our way back home. I never got to see him again, we heard on the grapevine that he and his shop had been ‘punished’ for protecting the westerners, (at this juncture I think should point out that the mob thought we were Americans, although they hated the West they really hated the Americans).
Life seemed to tick along, us kids were aware that some of the local children had started to be nasty, they would throw stones at us or spit at us and call us names and shove us about and of course our Iranian friends vanished from our lives as it was no longer safe for either them or us to play together without having said stones etc happen. So us siblings learned to get along and play with each other for entertainment.
Our usual routine apart from school and play, we would hop on a bus and go to the shops with mum to do the weekly shop. In Shiraz we had 2 large supermarkets we used, Spinneys and Choithrams (equivalent of Asda and Sainsburys) and had done since we arrived, they were on the same street but on opposite sides and not opposite each other. One day we were on route to the shops when suddenly we heard and felt a boom. Within in minutes the bus was stopped on route by police and the driver then told us that someone had just blown up Spinneys and we were instructed to return to our homes so he turned the bus around. It turns out that they targeted Spinneys as it was an American company and Americans predominantly shopped there (Choithrams was a Middle Eastern company so was left alone). Suffice to say we were now in a position where we didn’t want to go to places where lots of westerners frequented and mum decided to try and shop locally, this also had its challenges.
We could no longer nip to the corner shop for mum or go to the bakery during the daytime. Mum ( who always dressed ‘modestly’ used to go out with a scarf covering her head and because of her tan she could pass for a local so long as she didn’t speak, so she would go to the local supermarkets towards the end of the day and as the shopkeepers knew her/us they would serve her and she would leave and come home immediately but as time went by the ability to go shopping grew more and more frantic and suddenly we were in a position where we went out and bought only the essentials that we would carry and straight back home again, we went without so called luxuries as it was more important to have the basics in. We no longer mixed with others and only went out for school.
Now I know I mentioned earlier that we lived in the community but I should tell you that after a little while we moved from our initial accommodation to another which was in a 2 story condominium style building and we had the upper 3 bedroom flat which was accessed by its own separate security gate and stairs. We loved this new place as it was right next door to the international hotel which had a large swimming pool and as my folks knew the manager and his wife (they lived in the bottom floor flat under us so were also our neighbours) we had free use of the pool. All 3 of us kids loved the water so being able to go swimming whenever we liked was our idea of heaven. If weren’t in the flat then were at the hotel. Myself, my brother and sister were at times, and like all siblings, usually fighting about one thing or another and ganging up on each other but we knew something was ‘up’ so we naturally stopped all that and became this little cohesive unit.
What my folks didn’t know, as we didn’t tell them, was that sometimes when we went to the hotel we would sit in the lobby where there was a grand piano and a pianist playing ‘lobby music’. One day and I’m not sure when, the pianist started playing tunes we knew so the 3 of us got up and started to sing along. You have to appreciate at this point that the 3 of us were a sight to be seen. Western kids were not normally out on their own and with my being blonde enough to be almost white haired with blue eyes we quickly realised that folks would come and stare at us, want to stroke my hair or give us a few pennies for singing. We loved our little enterprise, the hotel staff said we couldn’t earn money but if we came and sang at a certain time they would pay us in ice cream. Trust me we never missed a chance as not only did we not have access to ice cream at home (which to date was the most delicious I’ve ever tasted, not your western fare either) but loved seeing smiling faces at us as people watched us, we were the Chapple 3, live in the lobby. We only sang for max 30 mins once or twice a week but all 3 of us always turned up on time, shiny clean and modestly dressed for our ‘gig’.
Then one day we were told we couldn’t come to the hotel anymore, we didn’t understand why but the manager and his wife came to our house and spoke to mum and dad and apologised profusely. We were definitely unhappy but didn’t complain as we could sense that this was something that wasn’t ours or the folks fault. The folks frowned a little and gave us a light bollocking for the singing but (we were later told) pretty impressed at our ingenuity and ability to get free food, a lesson learned that would prove fruitful in later times.
Then they declared martial law and curfews were in place, police were patrolling the streets and if you broke the rules, you were punished, not fined but punished so you would never do it again, they could be brutal. Life carried on as such as normal for a while, we still went to school and were allowed to go to the shops for food essentials only but pretty soon we were told by the company my dad worked for that we had to stay indoors and not go outside unless it was absolutely necessary. Mum sat us down and explained to us why we could not, unless we were with her or dad go outside, not even past the gate at the bottom of the stairwell. We had no idea how long we were going to be confined in the flat but we had no option but to, for want of a better phrase, suck it up. The lockdown lasted for several months and I can say, it felt like forever.
Thankfully my folks had bought a load of books, puzzles games etc to keep us kid occupied (there was no limited English TV to be had by this time) and we were getting used to entertaining ourselves. I do remember one day we were playing tag and running about laughing a joking indoors and my sister ran by the 6ft patio window and touched it with her little finger whilst trying to tag my brother, BANG suddenly the entire window shattered, to this day we don’t know how she wasn’t sliced to pieces but luck was definitely on our side then. We went off the idea of tag after that, we would play cards or monopoly (to date my sister and I cannot play with my brother as he is like a feckin demon possessed when he plays and the board always got tossed in the air). With hindsight how my mum kept 3 kids under the age of 12 entertained for 3 months locked down in a flat without killing us but to date we still all enjoy jigsaws, puzzles and card games, I take my hat to her, what a woman.
There were times when we all got each others nerves of course, the Waltons we are not and petty squabbles ensued or we were sent to our rooms to give mum and dad some space as they were under a lot of pressure. What we didn’t know was that by this time westerners were being advised to leave Iran ASAP but for some reason certain company/employees were constantly being told to ‘come back tomorrow’ when it came to permission to leave. It turns out some of the smaller companies (who didnt have a lot of clout like ARAMCO, BP etc) were mistaken for being American owned. Very soon we were among the last western families in Shiraz and times were dicey to say the least.
One day dad suddenly came home and told us all we had to pack 1 bag/case to carry and we were off to the airport. No fannying about, Mum gave us a bag each and told us we were allowed to pack what we wanted to take home but we couldn’t take it all, Everything had to fit into the bag we were given which had clothes, shoes and clean underwear already in and we could fill the rest with what we wanted. I do remember my sister packed her roller skates, given that we were being evacuated some folks might think that Mum should have filled our bags with practical items but she knew that if we packed something we each valued then we would take care of the bags like they were precious cargo and it left room in her and dads cases for more of said practical stuff.
Before we left the flat I remember us being lined up and mum and dad telling us we must NOT talking to anyone and to stay together no matter what. If we were stopped then they would do the talking and hopefully we would get to the airport ok, suddenly the transport was outside and we quickly bolted down the stairs and into the vehicle. It wasn’t until we got to the airport did I realise I had left my ‘one item’ on the sofa, my stuffed toy elephant, Nellie of course, on the couch. As upset as I was I knew I couldn’t cry, all the grown up faces around me in the airport were grim to say the least. A lot of hand holding, foot tapping and ‘its gonna be ok’ was going on and the worry and fear was palpable. We were informed that the plane was ready and we have to board as quickly as possible so we could take off ASAP (I will give the full tale in a later blog about life under Revolution and Curfew). We boarded, took off and after what seemed an age we were told we were out of Iranian airspace. The entire plane erupted in tears of joy and the dark grim feeling was gone and everyone was happy again, laughing and crying tears of joy. Folks settled down into their seats and had the best sleep ever, the rest of the flight was uneventful, we landed at Heathrow, caught a train and was outside my Nans house with literally a bag and the clothes we stood up in. We were fed, bathed and sent to bed, the 3 of us sharing the back bedroom, me n my sister in one bed and my bro on a single bed at the other end of the room, all of us wondering what tomorrow would bring.
It took a little while for us to get back to normal, us kids didn’t really venture far from Nans front door and we always travelled in a group and we loved being outside in the back garden making tents out of blankets and having picnics in there. Mum and Dad explained that we were allowed to go out (not to far until they knew who our friends were) and play, it was ok. Strange thing was that we didn’t want to go far from home initially. We preferred to play together or at least within sight of each other but obviously once we settled in we were off making new friends and going to new schools etc and we reverted to being just your run of the mill annoying little shits.
One thing I can say though, never did I appreciate open spaces, green grass, trees going to the shop for a pint a of milk and it taking forever as I wanted to talk to everyone once we got home. Everyone that knew my Nan understood the situation we were in and folks went out of their way to help out with small and large acts of kindness and generosity till we got back on our feet from folks who, on face value, you wold cross the street over, they were absolute diamonds and blew all stereotypical notions out of the head.
Back to the present day, I sit here wondering how long I will be on lockdown, I know my Docs told me 12 weeks but I’m crossing my fingers it will be less than that but I’m not banking on it. Lockdown will last as long as it lasts and I know there is not point bitchin about it, it is what it is. I make the best and most of the situation and I know that the it is for my best interest to comply with the rules. I don’t want to die from stupidity and if I flout the social distancing and lockdown rules and increase my exposure, then that is by my definition stupid. Once these times have passed, I know I will be seeing lots of happy faces when I go outside, appreciate the small things in life, wave and say hello to my neighbours and the lady behind the till at the shop and most definitely have a very large cheeky in a pub beer garden and f*ck the wasps because we survived C-19.
