The most special place I wanted to go to from the very beginning on my trip to Iran was Kashm Island.. It was my dreams to see and photograph the women living on the island of Kashm.. The Italian Fernando, whom we met at the Işıklı Mosque in Shiraz, started his tour of Iran from the opposite direction of us.. He was in Iran for 30 days. He had been to Kashm Island, but he was telling that he could not photograph.. The photos he took were very distant and blurry.. With such a professional machine.. And I only had a cell phone in my hand. Here we got on the bus from Shiraz at midnight with these worries.
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It takes 8 hours from Shiraz to Kashm Island. We travel at night in Iran’s comfortable buses. In the morning, we open our eyes on the ferry crossing to the island, as the autumn dawns.. I’m joking with a woman sitting next door. Then we get off the bus together in Dargahan.. While I was wandering around to find the place where we were staying, when we saw the woman sitting next to me on the bus suddenly take off her mask and put it on her face, we become pampered.. How did we miss such an opportunity? It turned out that we had traveled for 8 hours with one of those women and we were not even aware of it.
Our House in Dargahan and Our Host Naeim
Naeim had 5 older sisters. When we got home around 7 am, everyone was asleep and the house was very quiet.. When we came back home in the evening, we did not realize where we had fallen.. 5 older sisters, their husbands and children, large and small, that I could count up to 10, all lived in this house.. These women were definitely the women we were looking for.
I told Naim that I wanted to photograph masked women, but he said he could ask his neighbor.. Apparently, she didn’t want her own sisters pictured.. We are in a garden behind the house. Sisters are in preparation. Someone is making something out of palm leaves. The other is preparing the dough.
When I get up for photography and video, she covers her open head.. I’m deleting and retaking photos. The last thing I want to disturb is. They are baking Tomoshi, the local bread of Kashm Island. A dough made of starch, which he poured in circles on a stove like a sheet metal, and fish juice dripped onto it with a brush made from a palm tree before removing it from the fire.
Tomoşi Bread How Does It Taste?
An interesting mix. We are at the floor table as usual and tea is brewed in a thermos as usual.. They give a cup of tea. Even though the redness of that fish juice pushes me a bit, of course I will eat it and taste it.. I say “Close your eyes and eat Bahar”. Contrary to the red appearance of fish broth, this is a delicious bread.. crunchy. Children lined up. The one who grabs the baked bread sits at the table. I’m watching them.
The usual cream cheese is on the table again. The kids are driving it and eating it. That’s what I call. It is so beautiful. When I take a sip of tea, it surprises me that it is sweet like honey.. When I was a kid, I thought they brought sugar into it, but we don’t know at the moment that we will have to drink this sweet and spicy tea like honey wherever we go in the next days.. My friend isn’t very happy but I’m like in the documentary I’ve been dreaming of. I’m watching the happiest people I’ve ever seen in this crowd. When I think of the hygiene and smell of the house, I think that happiness has to do with something else.. Unfortunately, this is the most challenging accommodation for me during my trip to Iran, but on the other hand, it is an indescribable experience to be able to mingle with the people and observe and live their lives.. If I stayed in a hotel, I wouldn’t be able to experience what I went through.
Meeting, Reuniting with Masked Women
I had given up on photographing masked women.. All our attempts were in vain. We had the opportunity but missed it. We saw it in the bazaar in Shiraz and on the roads of Kashm Island, we wanted to talk, but we were hesitant.. Especially since it was Friday. They wouldn’t go out on the street on Fridays.
Even if they did, they would run away, which we witnessed while passing through a village. Even when we go to a restaurant to eat, I’m still after women in masks. Seeing the restaurant owner’s traditional attire, I asked him if his wife was wearing a mask, but she politely declined our request for a photo, saying “he has a headache today”.. “Not this time,” I said.
Kashm Island, Masked Woman
We came to the area called Chakkooh. It was almost evening now. While we were looking for a place for the car, we saw under a tree, among the cars, masked women were sitting.. I couldn’t believe my eyes at that moment. We went to them and tried to talk.. We said “Photo”. They laughed and let. it was like a dream. Was it real? Would it be that easy? The woman sitting in the back of a pickup truck took off her mask and put it on me.
Women who did not allow their masked state to be photographed took off their masks and put them on us.. They were covering their mouths with their hands, but they were laughing.. They laughed at us. We were having fun together. Our languages were different but we were women in the end. Two of the three women did this with us.. Only one of them turned and remained silent.
Kashm Island, Masked Woman Kashm Island, Masked Woman
I don’t know when we got together with the old aunt sitting on the ground.. My old aunt and I showed each other’s jewelry and clothes and liked them.. My hands touched your hands, my eyes touched your eyes, my heart touched your heart. We were in a hurry that at any moment someone would come and chase us.. I learned from an Iranian who saw the photos later that the shalwar is handcrafted and very expensive.
Women of Bandar Abbas
The use of masks is a tradition of more than 200 years.. Borke says they. When we went to Bandar Abbas, we saw how innocent the masks on the island were.. They were women with only eyelashes showing. A market was being set up at the door of the house we stayed in Bandar Abbas.
We photographed fisherwomen at the market stall there. We bought from them. While some of them reacted while taking pictures, some of them posed arm in arm with us.. We mixed with different cultures.
The masks on the island of Kashm were completely covered, while the masks left most of the face exposed.. If the masks they call Borke cover a large part of the face, it means that they are worn by unmarried young girls, that is, the wearer is not married.. If they are wearing more open masks that cover their eyebrows and mouth, that is, the mask I wear in the picture is worn by married women.. Most of the women we asked if we could take pictures answered no.. We did not insist. We thanked and smiled at each other.
Kashkay Türkü Women
Kaşkay Turks live a lot on the sides of Shiraz. They live in villages at the foot of the Zagros Mountain.. The clothes of Kashkai women are completely different.. The hair is covered, but the covering is transparent. The fluffy skirts, the shimmery shimmery clothes worn on top of it, the sanjak (safety pin) used to fasten the headscarf under the chin.
We wore these clothes at Ali Mehrara’s Qashkai Hostel, who lives in Yazd.. He set up a nomadic tent in the Hostel in the middle of the city.. In the following days, we spent 2 nights in Ali Qashkai’s house in a Kaşkay Village at the foot of Zagros Mountain.. We dressed like them, lived like them.
Women of Abyaneh
Abyane Village was the first place suggested by Şeyda, who works at the Tehran Turkish Consulate. I didn’t know about Abyaneh village when I set out.. It was a little far from Kashan.. We were staying at Ebol Fazl in Kashan. He didn’t say no to any of our requests.. Having a car was a great advantage for us.. Those living in the village of Abyaneh still continue their traditional lives.
It was one of the most unique villages in the world with its clothes, language and architecture.. A language similar to Old Pahlavi is still spoken in the village.. In addition, this language was the closest living language to the Avesta language. It is a very different region of Iran with its red houses and unique dresses.. It was nice to walk around the streets a little bit, to dress like them, to try to talk, to be around a bit.
The Whole World Owes Women An Apology
In Iran, which is like a country within a country, those in the north are different, Tehran’ The women in South Iran were completely different.. Throwing a shawl was enough in Iran up to Shiraz. Keşm was a free zone and I almost walked around with my head uncovered, I even went into the sea in a bikini, but on the other side, the women were walking around with masks hiding their faces.. In Bandar Abbas, only their eyelashes were visible.
In Bandar Abbas, we could only swim in the women-only beaches, but there were women sunbathing topless. We did not have a problem with hijab.. We’ve never seen the aforementioned Morality Cops. Just as I was passing through security at Tehran airport (men and women pass separately), an officer grabbed my arm and tried to tuck my hair inside.. When I spoke English he stood back in surprise. When he heard that I was Turkish he smiled and left. I learned that I look a lot like an Iranian woman when I went to Iran. My name is already Persian.
Who was closing where, according to what, and how? I tried to understand why they were wrapped in so many fabrics in that heat, what kind of tradition it was.. I sent all the photos I took to Fernando. couldn’t believe it. The south of Iran is like a separate country on its own.. When we returned to the north again, those in the north saw those masks for the first time.. They couldn’t believe it.
While I was only asking for a photo, I ate bread from the hands of those women and became entangled. I lived with them. What did humanity want from women since this world existed? What did they do until they were wrapped in yards of fabric and only their eyelashes were visible? I questioned a lot. I’m thankful I wasn’t born there. The whole world owes women an apology.
