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Heartfelt thanks to all who marked September 30 on their calendar as the launch date for my memoir: The Road Between Hearts. I deeply appreciate your spirit of celebration and anticipation; your support and excitement bring me energy and joy! But in the interest of maximizing the book’s visibility online, my publisher has decided to both extend the book’s prelaunch period and assign a new launch date. So, please hold on to your excitement and please continue your wonderful support! When my publisher has the new launch date confirmed, you’ll be the first to know the date of the virtual launch party—to which you’re enthusiastically invited! After all, there’s a popular Persian expression that states, “Mahi ra har vaght az ab begiri, tazeh ast”--and when translated into English, it means, “Whenever you catch the fish, it’s fresh.” What on earth can that possibly mean—especially in the context of this discussion? Think of the “fish” as an opportunity (like the new book launch!)—and whenever it comes our way, it’s there for the taking!  So, thank you for standing by for the next update!
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Hello, Reader! A warm welcome to you from Leslie Powell Ahmadi: a Black American Christian woman who met and married a man from Iran who was raised in a Muslim family. I met Mahmoud at The Ohio State University, married him in 1988, and four years later relocated to Iran to start a new life with him. It was not an easy decision. But ultimately, Mahmoud, our two young children, and I lived in the spectacular historic city of Isfahan from 1992 – 1996. And a lot happened during those four years. It’s all captured in a memoir I’ve written called The Road Between Hearts: A Memoir of a Black American Woman Discovering Iran—scheduled to be released on September 30, 2025! Please mark your calendars for the virtual launch day celebration on the same date (September 30), at 7 p.m.! Details—including a full reveal of the book cover below—will be included in next month’s (September’s) blogpost!  The Road Between Hearts: A Love Story? Many of you know that The Road Between Hearts is the story of my intercultural, interracial, and interfaith journey as a Black American Christian woman living in post-revolutionary Iran (1992-1996).
But once you see the cover (to be fully revealed next month!), some of you might also wonder, "And is it also a love story?" Good question! Rather than answer with an efficient (but boring) "yes" or "no," I will attempt to answer your question with a (true) story: ****** When I was twelve, Aunt Dorothy, my great aunt by marriage on my father's side, entered my life with her occasional visits to our Dayton home all the way from Virginia. She was an elegant woman in her late sixties, was long and willowy like a swan, and she had delicate features and jet-black hair combed into the short, sleek waves of her generation. A serious woman, she knew a thing or two about life and had her three grand nieces' best interests at heart. But the ways in which she expressed her care and concerns could scare me and my two sisters half to death! I still remember the day Aunt Dorothy and I were sitting alone together in the family "playroom." I was tinkering at the piano, and she appeared to be in even deeper thought than usual. But the moment I stopped hammering out one of my tunes, she interrupted the silence and lowered the boom: "Leslie," she said, her black eyes gleaming, "don't ever tell a man that you love him." (Don't ever what?) Why she said it just then, I had no clue. "Okay, Aunt Dorothy," was my polite but dispassionate reply. I turned my attention back to the piano keys. But Aunt Dorothy would have none of that. "Leslie, DID YOU HEAR ME? Don't ever tell a man that you love him! Because once you do, it's over!" "Okay, Aunt Dorothy ... thank you so much; I hear you!" And I thought I really did. Still, I just didn't know what to do with the information at that moment. Now, fast forward twelve years, when I was a senior in college. I had fallen in love with a man whom my heart embraced as my first "true love," and in the magic of our first kiss, I forgot the advice of my Great Aunt Dorothy. So, after that kiss, I uttered the catastrophic three words (“I love you”) that she had strictly warned me not to. Not one month after I had confessed my love, we were no longer together. He had let me go gently, but my heart was ripped. And I blamed myself for forgetting to censor those “three little words” in a moment of passion. Now, fast forward six years after that, when I finally met another person I truly connected with--a man who made my heart sing. And that man was Mahmoud. For a second pivotal time in my life, I faced the question: To tell or not to tell the man I loved that I loved him? I didn't know how to play it coy--but did I want to risk blowing things by repeating history and confessing those three little words again? For me, the answer was a categorical NO; I was resolved not to make that mistake again. And yet, therein lay my dilemma: How could I tell him--and at the same time, how could I not tell him? To my mind, in either case I’d risk losing him. The day finally came when I could std the tension no longer. I wanted to let him know how I felt, but an imaginary, miniature Aunt Dorothy--mounted on my shoulder with her long legs crossed--kept frowning at me. Still, in a quiet moment, I decided to speak anyway: "Mahmoud?" "Yes, Baby?" It was sink or swim. It was now or never. "I think ... I think ... I love you a little bit!" There, I had said it ... but then, exactly what had I just said? Half wincing, I glanced over at him. He looked ... unimpressed. "Mahmoud?" I said, still waiting for him to say something at least. He finally did. "'I think I love you a little bit’?” he echoed the phrase back to me. “I mean, what kind of compliment is that?" I had never seen Mahmoud look so indignant. I felt the blood drain from my face, and I turned my thoughts to Aunt Dorothy again. Without totally disregarding myself, I had tried my best to take her advice--didn't that count for something? But all I could hear was Aunt Dorothy's tongue clucking and all I could see was her shaking her head, (as if to say, "Girl, you still got a lot to learn!") But fortunately for me, this story has a happy ending. Once I told Mahmoud why I told him what I had told him, and that translated it meant “I love you with all my heart,” Mahmoud understood everything. Besides, he had grown up in a culture where older members in a family like Aunt Dorothy were supposed to be listened to--even if privately you disagreed with them. Did I disagree with Aunt Dorothy that one should "never tell a man that you love him"? Not necessarily: I'd already learned firsthand what those "three little words" could do to ambush a love life--so at the very least, perhaps discretion was called for when using them. But I would be remiss not to advise you to think twice before saying "I think I love you a little bit," to your Special Someone. But I digress! To return to the original question, let me ask again: Is The Road Between Hearts also a love story? Well, if you ask me, the answer is Yes. In my eyes, it's a love story of the goofiest, loveliest, zaniest, cheesiest, most down-to-earth, and most “love-you-a-little-bit-with-all-my-heart” kind! ****** If this blogpost has piqued your interest,
Kheilee mamnoon! (THANK YOU!!!) With sensitive, unpredictable, and high-stake interactions still brewing between Iran, Israel, and the USA, I cannot help but carry a headful of thoughts and a heartful of feelings, just like everyone else. So, what to say? Being neither a politician nor a political commentator, I do not process cross-national crises like either. But as a former professor of language and culture who grew up fascinated with the magic and power of words, I am a sociolinguist at heart—ever exploring the impact of words on our communication and interactions, and ever wondering how much the well-known statement, “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it,” applies in a given situation. Since I am a lover of words, one way I like to process cross-national and cross-cultural conflicts like this one is to ponder them vis-à-vis my collection of wonderfully worded proverbs. Sayings that may have something relevant to say about ways to improve relations among all parties and move toward a win/win resolution. Below are four of my favorite verses. Do any of them resonate with you? I invite you to consider how extracting and applying the wisdom of one or more of them may lead to improved relations and more mutually beneficial solutions in cross-national and cross-cultural crises like this one:
“The secret of improved relations between our countries is to truly want it.” — Firooz Ahmadi, my beloved late Iranian father-in-law, responding to my earnest question on how to achieve improved relations between the USA and Iran. My comment: Without this goodwill component (of “truly wanting it”) to lay the foundation for a win/win solution, the notion of attaining “improved relations” is futile. (But that’s not to say that one party “truly wanting it” can’t be a catalyst for moving another party in the same direction.) “We don’t see things as they are; we see things as we are.” — Anaïs Nin, French American writer My comment: to a greater or lesser extent, we have all been shaped by the values, systems, and behaviors of the cultures we grew up in. These are the factors that influence how we see the world, others, and “the way things should be.” A first step toward getting along with “the other” is to take time to see the issue in question from their point of view. That step would call for not only (1) seriously listening to what the other party is requesting and why, but also (2) accessing the cross-cultural training and research that shed further insight into their values, attitudes, beliefs, and practices. These will be the factors that tend to inform their thinking, decision making, and responses—so we can anticipate and adapt our approach as needed. Like knowing, for example, that an act of hospitality may make more inroads into a positive agreement than any number of impressive charts or graphs. “No message, however eloquent or true, will have its desired effect if it is not delivered in a way that it can be received.” —Exact origin unknown My comment: Here we return to the notion of “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it,” along with “communication style matters.” If when negotiating, we talk in straightforward or assertive terms to someone from a culture where indirect communication is the norm, they may well perceive us as being “blunt,” “rude,” even “aggressive,”—not to mention “offensive.” On the flip side, if we talk in less direct or more deferential terms (out of respect) to someone from a culture where direct communication is the norm, they may perceive us as “indecisive,” “evasive,” “dishonest,” or “weak.” Even worse, both parties will have left the negotiating table with a negative and inaccurate impression of the other—and less motivated to engage than when negotiations started. “Before you deliver any message, consider what you want the outcome to be.” —Exact origin unknown My comment: At first glance, such a step may appear to be intuitively obvious, but in my experience, it is remarkably easy to forget. Failing to pinpoint a specific goal for each negotiation is to miss the opportunity to consider potential pitfalls or which goal could bring the greatest return. For example: should the goal be to get the other party to agree to a concession, or should it be to move toward a relationship of greater trust, improved relations, and mutually beneficial agreements? And if through cross-cultural training and research, we have taken the time to better understand the values, customs, and preferences of the other party, we are more likely to meet them where they are, not interpret them wrongly or use language that offends them, not default to our own ways of doing things , and realize more of a “win/win” outcome in the process. Each of the above adages merits more discussion, and each one calls for a skill set requiring much practice—regardless of which side of a conflict a party is on. But as I have heard from both my doctor and personal trainer about getting into shape: “Practicing just one exercise daily is definitely better than practicing none!” My avid wish is that each of the powers involved in the ongoing crisis between Israel, Iran, and the USA would absorb even one of the four messages listed above and put it into practice instead of resorting to more bombings, threats, death, and destruction. If there’s one thing that was confirmed for me while I was living in Iran, it was that the people of Iran cannot be equated with its government or the political decisions it makes, and I believe the same to be true of America and Israel. I would hate to see any of these countries or their people maimed and pockmarked over issues that could be resolved through culturally sensitive diplomacy—so long as, in the words of my beloved father-in-law, “they (the governments) truly want it.” I earnestly pray for peace, a mutually beneficial resolution, and protection over all the people affected. ******************** But the ruling powers of a country aren't the only party with a role to play in improving relations with a country in conflict with theirs. I believe that everyday people like you and I have our own part to play when our countries are embroiled in such conflict. But without sufficient power, information, or resources to make the decisions, what can we possibly do to make a difference? We might throw up our hands, concluding that we can do nothing to improve relations, that the problems are bigger than we are. And perhaps that would be true. And yet ... there's one final proverb whose meaning I would invite us all to consider: "When discomfort is served, remain at the table."  What does that phrase suggest in terms of how we can respond? Do any of the following responses resonate with you?
—Stay engaged re: your concern about the conflict. (If you stop caring, how will that impact the ones left behind?) —Be or become educated on the history of the topic. —Stay informed and updated via reliable news sources. —Stay in conversation with people who know more about the conflict and issues than you. —Cultivate relationships and have discussions with individuals who are willing to listen but have a contrasting position to yours. —Cultivate relationships and have discussions with members of the country in conflict with yours. —Stay engaged, stay in relationship, and be willing to "stick it through" during the difficult moments and discussions related to the conflict (or, as my husband sometimes says, "Let the fever pass before you say or do anything.” —Be willing and able to respectfully and accurately articulate the conflict from an opposing point of view. —Where possible, keep your perception of the opposing view(s) separate from your perception of the person who espouses them. —Do not assume that the ideologies and policies of the government largely reflect the beliefs and wishes of the everyday people. —Be open to modifying or changing your point of view as a result of your discussions, if you believe it is warranted. Now pause and ask yourself how else you might translate "remain at the table" into action. Perhaps by emulating these principles on a person-to-person level, we can spread the "wanting to" spirit both among ourselves and in our governments. JUNE IS HERE! and I have BAD NEWS and GOOD NEWS about my book launch. The BAD NEWS (which I’ll deliver in three short installments) is that
The GOOD NEWS is that personal disappointments like this one remind me of a lesson I learned from my Iranian sister-in-law on why sometimes it's best to wait! Her name is Badri, she's Mahmoud's sister (the same age as me), and there's no denying she's a master of Persian cooking! Every nugget I taste of hers turns to metaphorical gold. Take Badri's incomparable eggplant stew, for example …!  I remember the impact of that very first bite at Badri’s house: a symphony of flavors exploding in my mouth: the savory lamb, the delicate split peas, the crunchy french fries …the tomatoey sauce, just tangy enough. And the eggplant, of course, fried tender and mellow. It went perfectly with Badri's heavenly saffron-infused rice. And It was one of those meals when . . . how do they say it? The total effect exceeded the sum of its glorious parts. And once Mahmoud and I returned to the States, I kept trying to replicate that stew (a classic dish known in Persian as khoreshte bademjan). Mahmoud, who could make a decent stew himself, had been faithful to explain to me what was in it: lamb cooked with onions, split peas and eggplant—and simmered slowly in a sauce seasoned with salt, pepper, turmeric, tomato paste and lemon. It seemed simple enough--perhaps too simple, I thought to myself. For no matter how often I followed the steps, I could never get my stew as luscious as Badri's. Surely he’s forgotten to mention something, I figured, and I went on a private quest for that missing ingredient--the key to that exquisite melding of flavors. So I turned to my arsenal of “secret ingredients.” I tried garlic. Then curry. Then cayenne pepper. Rosemary and oregano were a serious mistake. When I got desperate, I threw in some sugar—then doused it with teriyaki sauce. When I faced the fact that I couldn’t “improve” it, I finally gave up in exhaustion. As much as I enjoyed Mahmoud’s eggplant stew, his sister Badri’s stew was even better. So, the next time Mahmoud and I visited Iran, I asked Badri if she would share her secret. Speaking slow-paced and clearly as she always did for me, she listed her requisite set of seasonings: namack (salt), felfel (black pepper), zarchoobeh (turmeric), rohbe goje (tomato paste), limoo (lemon). “And that’s it,” she said, smiling her sparkly smile. I was totally baffled. “Are you sure that's all?” I asked her. It was the exact same list that Mahmoud had given—the one that had sounded too simple to be complete. We shared a moment of laughter over my skepticism. But then Badri spoke up again. That's when I discovered the secret of Badri's delicious eggplant stew--and at the same time learned a new phrase in Persian: “Leslie Khanum, ghaza boyad yavash-yavash bepaze… ta ghashang ja biafte. "(Miss Leslie, the food must cook ever so slowly …till it finally comes nicely into its own.”) “Till it finally comes nicely into its own”… I can still hear the warmth in her voice as she said it. And the more I thought about it, the more it hit me. So--the secret of the stew was in the slow cooking of it? The principle for me was hardly a new one … but was it one I’d learned to put into practice? I admit it: a side of me questioned whether simmering a stew slowly over a low flame could really make that much of a difference--particularly without the help of a flavor-enhancer that comes in a bottle. But what would I have to lose (other than the extra time I'd have to wait)? Not long after, I tried applying the principle for myself. And when I tasted that stew, I loved the outcome--and realized anew that some things take a little extra time to come into their own. And that makes them worth the wait! If you’re interested, I encourage you to try Badri’s eggplant stew too. Just click on the link for eggplant stew*; it includes all the steps except for the french fry garnish. Be sure to scroll down to read all the comments from readers. And if you would, reply to this email and let me know how you like it! *When you reach the home page, let your cursor hover over the starred word “recipes,” then in the first column to the right click on the first entry [“Khoresht (stew)”] under the “Main Courses” column. Finally, click on the photo at the top left of the page (labelled “Khoresht-E Bademjan”) to access the recipe. Since my conversation with Badri, I’ve gleaned so much from Badri’s secret—whose wisdom holds true far beyond the kitchen. Where else in life should we take something more slowly--being patient, careful, and steadfastly confident ’til finally "it nicely comes into its own”? When watching our diet? Raising our children? Waiting on God to answer our prayers? Or when waiting to publish that very first manuscript? Stay tuned! Again, the new launch date is September 30--and it’s all good! Thank you for watching and waiting along with me and Badri (who also appears in the story)!  If you were a fan of American westerns in the 1960s through the 1990s (or had spent time around someone who was), you might be familiar with the Hollywood hunks and heroes who contributed to making the genre so popular. Some of the better-known faces of the western film era included John Wayne, Steve McQueen, Burt Lancaster, Yul Brynner, Charles Bronson, Robert Duvall, Kevin Costner, and (last but not least) Clint Eastwood! Some of the above starred as the "badass" cowboys in the great western classic film "The Magnificent Seven" (1960), while others made names for themselves in classic westerns that followed. (How did I become so familiar with these faces and names, you ask, when I never once sat through a single western? That's easy: I grew up with a father who was a diehard western fan!) Little did I know that when I was grown, I would marry into a family with four brothers—each one an expert herder, hunter, and horseman in his own right. So much so that among themselves and other family members, they were affectionately known as "The Magnificent Four" (complete with real cowboy gear!). Not only that—over time, each brother also came to be tagged as one of four Hollywood cowboy heroes whose names are still well recognized today: (1) Yul Brynner, (2) Kevin Costner, (3) Robert Duvall, and (4) Clint Eastwood. (And if the truth be told, I ended up participating in the “name-each-brother-after-a-movie-star-challenge” myself! (How did the family know or even care enough, you ask, to reference the names of American western classics and the Hollywood stars who played in them? Actually, while in the 60s and 70s US Americans were watching these western classics on the States, Mahmoud, his father [“Baba”], and his three other brothers were viewing the same popular westerns from their Iranian TV sets on the other side of the world!) SO … MEET THE AHMADI BROTHERS!aka "The Magnificent Four”)! So, finally, let me formally introduce you to the four Ahmadi brothers (pictured with their parents, just below)! As you look at each adult brother in the photo, would you like to play along and (based on the celebrity-related clues provided) figure out which brother is which --by trying to match each brother’s name (and accompanying actor nickname) with the right face? 
When you have finished guessing which brother is which in the photo, scroll further down the page and check your responses against the ones in the Answer Key. ANSWER KEY:
How did things go? There are other things to discover about each of the brothers (especially the one with the “squinty eyes” and textured hair!) I hope you’ll choose to find out when my debut memoir, The Road Between Hearts: A Memoir of a Black American Woman Discovering Iran is released on June 24, 2025! Please stand by for more details in my next blogpost! This is Leslie Powell Ahmadi: a Black American Christian woman who met and married a man from a Muslim family and lived several years with him and our two young children in Iran. Every month or so, I enjoy bringing you information, an experience, an encounter, and/or a perspective related to Iran and its people. Something that may catch your attention. You may or may not know that I have also written a soon-to-be released memoir about my life and discoveries in Iran, called The Road Between Hearts: A Memoir of a Black American Woman Discovering Iran. Some of you will notice that the title has changed slightly since I last mentioned it … but more about that later. For now, let me share another preview of one of my earliest discoveries (since my last blogpost): MEET THE AHMADI SISTERS! In the summer of 1989, Mahmoud—my husband of just one year at the time—took a break from his research at Ohio State to visit his parents, siblings, and the rest of his abundant family back in Iran after twelve long years of living in America! Here is a photo of Mahmoud and his five sisters, shortly after they first laid eyes on each other:  When Mahmoud returned to Columbus two weeks later and showed me the photo, the joy that emanated from it was so sweet and palpable, I could almost eat it with a spoon! In order of their position from left to right, he pointed out each one to me proudly. (And one year later, when I went to Iran for my first-time visit, I would come to discover and love each sister and personality in her own right!)
(Later, she would paint a stunning replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s famous painting, “The Last Supper,” and hung it as a centerpiece on her wall. Why? Because she loved da Vinci’s painting!
(Later, she’s the one who would sometimes walk in and offer to scrub my back down while I was in the shower. And even though I’d politely decline, I appreciated the intention behind it … she knew how to get things done!)
(Later, she would ask me all kinds of questions about Mahmoud’s and my life in America and our early days of knowing each other. She also taught me how to frame my face fashionably with a scarf and drape it around my neck just so!)
(She’s the one who would later bring me sweetened mint tea she had brewed for me herself if she noticed me showing even the slightest signs of stomach pangs. She also sewed me a stunning crimson blouse of silk that I wore and wore till I wore it out!)
(One November, she would take it upon herself to cook a delicious turkey dinner with a “Persian touch” and invite me and all the families, after she learned about an American holiday known as “Thanksgiving.”) *** As you may have picked up from my various blogposts, my road to Iran began with Mahmoud, continued with his family, and extended beyond that! That’s why the first part of my memoir’s title has changed from Road Between Two Hearts to The Road Between Hearts: a lot of hearts ended up on this road besides Mahmoud’s and mine! I hope you will join me in my next blogpost—when the day of the book’s release and other details will finally be announced! (By that time, I might also be able to invite you to explore my newly-designed website!) Meet My Mother-in-Law Shazdeh Amirhosseini: Matriarch of the Ahmadi Family |
AuthorDr. Leslie Ahmadi discovered her intercultural calling in her parents’ home at age four--where between the jazz, the spirituals, and the rock ‘n roll music, she heard folk songs in languages from around the world. Thirty years later she had a doctorate in foreign language and culture education--and her folk song guitar never far away. Archives
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