Bahar Davoudi
The Invisible Citizens
To a generation who aspired to change the world and blamed itself for failing to do so—the generation that never realized how it did change the world for the better by simply being in it.
The early morning breeze swirled through Eddie’s curly grey hair. He gently opened his blue eyes and examined the surroundings before getting up. He was lying on the corner bench of Glen Gould Park in his scotch-patterned sleeping bag. Eddie touched his cheeks: his beard was a few millimeters long. Time to visit the shelter and have a shave, he thought. Eddie got up and carefully folded his favorite sleeping bag—a gift from his best friend, Jamie. Jamie had found it beside a garbage can during one of his so-called treasure hunts with Eddie.
During their treasure hunts, Jamie loved to look for old accessories and furniture. His preferred pastime was to come up with the life story of the people who used those objects across generations. On the other hand, Eddie mostly searched the garbage for—what he called—gourmet food. Jamie would eat anything available while Eddie was a snob when it came to food. He used to tell Jamie, “food is not just something to fill up your belly; it is a companion with a soul and character whose presence you must cherish.”
With this point-of-view, finding a satisfactory food was not easy for Eddie even in the garbage bins of a large city like Toronto—where he and Jamie lived.
Jamie and Eddie were inseparable, but as Toronto started expanding, Jamie felt he was losing his connection with the people and the city. He decided to move to a smaller town, where he could have meaningful interactions with the residents. Eddie, however, was enthralled by Toronto’s growing population. He enjoyed encountering the groups of diverse individuals on the streets and listening to their conversations in different languages.
Despite Eddie’s contentment with the flourishing city, he was dissatisfied with the degradation of the quality of the food that was thrown in the garbage bins. In the last few months, he had hardly found anything he would enjoy eating—until one evening in December.
That evening, Eddie was walking along St. Clair Avenue, searching for some decent food as his eyelashes were almost frozen. He chose a large garbage bin and took off the lid. Inside, a small pink plastic bag caught his attention. His nose could pick a pleasant aroma. Inspecting inside the bag, he found a disposable food container. He opened it gently, not sure what to expect. There was some rice beside a portion of a dark green stew which contained pieces of beef and red bean. Eddie took a handful of the rice. It tasted different than the various rice recipes he had tried till then—it was more tasty. He brought the box to his nose and sniffed the green stew. His nose could pick the smell of some herbs. Parsley, he thought, but I can’t tell what else...
He took a small portion of the stew, put it in his mouth and let out a sound of joy. He quickly stuffed his mouth with more. This is the most gourmet food I have ever tasted, he thought as he gulped the rest of the food.
Once Eddie finished all the food, he felt a crippling pain in his back. He noticed he had been bending into the garbage can to reach the food the whole time.
On the way to the shelter, he couldn’t help thinking about the mysterious food. Why did it taste so different yet so familiar? Where can I find this food again? he pondered.
At the shelter, he did not speak to anyone. He went straight to bed with the taste of the green magical stew under his teeth. That night Eddie dreamed of his father, a well-known chef in Eddie’s hometown who died when Eddie was a teen of fourteen, a year before Eddie ran away from home. In his dream, Eddie was sitting at the kitchen table of a restaurant, and his dad was cooking for him. Dad looked to be as old as Eddie in reality—about 45. Though Eddie was in his forty-five-year-old body in the dream, he felt like a child—thrilled to taste his dad’s creation. While waiting, Eddie examined the walls of the restaurant—they were covered with mesmerizing indigo-colored tiles. Eddie walked to the stove and removed the lid of one of the pots. Right away, the smell of the green stew, which Eddie had eaten the night before, penetrated the air. Eddie asked with excitement, “Dad, I didn’t know you could make this dish! You knew it all this time, and you never made it for me?”
“Eddie, but I did make it for you, don’t you remember?!” replied dad.
Eddie could not remember, but did not say anything. He just embraced his dad. Until then, Eddie never recognized that compared to his dad, he really looked like a child, even as a grown-up. His dad had a strong athletic body while Eddie was short and skinny.
When Eddie woke up the next morning, he was thinking of nothing but to search for the magical stew. To Eddie’s disappointment, his mission failed on that day and for the next couple of weeks to come. He started to lose any hope of finding the green stew again. He even doubted whether discovering the food in the pink plastic bag really happened or if it was just a dream in a cold winter evening.
One bitterly cold night in February, as Eddie was walking up Yonge Street, he found himself in the North York neighborhood. There were a few people on the sidewalk. Eddie noticed a young woman carrying a white plastic bag running towards him along with a little boy. The woman had beautiful black eyes, and the boy was wrapped in a bulky set of overalls, a pair of thick mittens, and a scarf that almost covered his full face. As they passed Eddie, he smelled a familiar aroma from the woman’s plastic bag: the magical green stew. At this notion, Eddie started running after them—who were now several steps ahead of him—and shouted, “Ma’am, where did you get that from?” while pointing to the white bag.
The boy stopped and looked at Eddie as if ready to answer him. The young woman grabbed the boy’s hand and cried, “run, maman jun! Don’t go close to the guy, he is a homeless, he is crazy, he is dirty… run!” The woman ran dragging the little boy behind her. They jumped into an elegant, black SUV and drove away. Eddie halted. Yes, I am homeless and my clothes may look shabby, he thought, but I am certainly not crazy. How rude!
As Eddie gently continued on his way, an idea struck him. If the food the woman was carrying was smelling so intensely in this cold weather, it was probably still warm which means she bought it from somewhere close by, he concluded excitedly.
Eddie checked around and spotted a large plaza about fifty meters away. His eyes sparkled with hope. “It must be there,” he murmured and took rapid steps towards the plaza. Eddie noticed a cozy, exotic-looking restaurant and decided to try his luck. As he entered, the small decorative potteries and shiny colorful glasswork grabbed his attention. There were four people sitting at one table and a young couple at another. All the customers were brown and looked exotic to Eddie.
As soon as Eddie entered, everyone gazed at the door to check the new customer. There was a sketch of fear on the face of the young girl sitting at the smaller table. “Oh shit!” cried out the man who was sitting with her.
Eddie ignored them. He could already smell the magical stew and he knew he had come to the right place. As he continued walking into the restaurant, one of the four guys sitting at the larger table stood up and walked towards him with an encouraging smile. He had an athletic figure, dark skin, short gray hair, and a gray moustache. “Welcome! how can I help you?” he asked politely.
Eddie noticed the guy’s distinct accent. He looked around: most of the customers were still looking at him uncomfortably. This guy must be the boss or the owner of the restaurant, Eddie thought and replied, “Hey! I want the green stew which smells so good and comes with rice. I can even smell it from here!”
The restaurant owner listened to Eddie with amusement. “Hmm, I guess you want to have ghormeh sabzi!” he suggested as he reached out for the menu.
“Is this it?” The restaurant owner showed a photo on the menu to Eddie.
“Yes, it is! Yessss!!” Eddie shouted in excitement, which made the restaurant owner laugh, but left the customers unsettled.
“Ok, make yourself comfortable while I prepare the ‘green stew’ for you,” the owner said with a friendly humor.
Eddie wondered whether he should stay at the restaurant and eat there or if he should ask the owner at what time he would throw out the food so that Eddie could get some leftover green stew. Eddie had a hunch that he should stay. He reviewed the menu—the stew was $12. Eddie checked his pockets: he had a $20 bill in his pocket. That would be enough for the food plus tax and tip, Eddie calculated. Sure, why not! This would be my treat to you, Eddie, he convinced himself.
He looked around and found a table for two closer to the kitchen. There was something romantic and cozy about that table with the burning candle on it. The heavy looks of the other customers accompanied Eddie to the table. Why do they keep staring at me?! wondered Eddie. Whatever!… All that is important is that I have found a nice restaurant that serves the green stew.
Eddie took the menu as he settled at the table and checked the name of his favorite food. He tried to read it. “Ghormeh sabzi,” he repeated a couple of times to make sure he remembered.
“Thanks a lot, dad!” he whispered triumphantly as he followed the dance of the candle light on the indigo tiles of the wall.
After a few minutes, the restaurant owner reappeared, a big tray in his hand with two dishes of rice, two bowls of ghormeh sabzi and two glasses of water on it. He placed one of each in front of Eddie. Right away, Eddie started gobbling up the food.
“You really love this dish, don’t you?” asked the amused owner delightfully.
Eddie nodded, “this is even better than the one I tried before!”
“Do you mind if I join you?” asked the owner. “I also felt like having ghormeh sabzi for dinner tonight,” he explained.
Eddie nodded but wondered in confusion, Why would the owner of this place want to dine with me while everyone else is watching me as if I am an alien?
The owner moved the remaining dishes from the tray to his side of the table and sat down. He extended his right hand towards Eddie and introduced himself: “I’m Behrouz. Nice to meet you!”
“Eddie,” he said in his bashful voice as he shook Behrouz’s hand.
“Do you live around here, Eddie?” asked Behrouz.
“No, I live in downtown,” Eddie responded.
“Wow! You traveled a long way just for the sake of ghormeh sabzi!” remarked Behrouz as he grinned.
“Well, I was just wandering in this neighborhood,” Eddie explained, “but I would definitely travel all this way again to have...” He paused for a second and attempted to pronounce the name correctly: “ghormeh sabzi.”
“Perfect pronunciation, Eddie!” Behrouz remarked as they both laughed.
“So, where is this food from?” Eddie inquired curiously.
“It is Iranian, from Iran, like myself,” Behrouz clarified.
“Where is Iran?” Eddie asked cautiously.
“Well, really far,” Behrouz answered. “Somewhere between Asia and Europe.”
Eddie paused, “it’s strange!” he remarked. “There’s a country I have never heard about, yet, there’s a food from there that I got to know by pure chance which has become my new favorite,” Eddie explained. I wonder what my dad had to do with all this, he thought.
Eddie was eager to talk. He didn’t know whether it was the ghormeh sabzi, the coziness of the restaurant, or Behrouz’s hospitality that made him feel so at ease. He recounted the story of his first encounter with ghormeh sabzi in the pink plastic bag for Behrouz. Feeling Behrouz’s genuine interest in his story encouraged Eddie to tell Behrouz about the dream in which his dad was cooking ghormeh sabzi. Eddie felt a deeper connection with Behrouz, beyond a mere polite exchange of small talk.
“Behrouz, how did you end up in Toronto?” Eddie asked.
Behrouz let out a sigh and joked, “How much time do you have, Eddie?... The short answer is that I had to leave my country because my life was in danger.”
Eddie stared at Behrouz in disbelief. Behrouz smiled at Eddie and slowly rolled up his sleeves, as if to concentrate before telling his story. “When I was a university student in Iran, the country was ruled by a monarch. There were many opponents to his government. Being a member of such opposition groups meant putting your life in a serious danger. Nonetheless, I decided to join one of those groups which was led by students who were fighting for a more democratic government. Ultimately, several opposition parties—with various ideals and beliefs—united to incite a revolution and change the government. The revolution happened but not the way we imagined. The country ended up in the hands of a religious party with no trace of democracy in its ideology. Many people, including me, pursued their opposition through demonstrations and by asking for a more democratic government. At the beginning, the new regime in power tried to ignore us as if we didn’t exist. After they realized what a big crowd we were and how courageously we were standing against them, they announced us as enemies of the state, and God! They started arresting and executing us in secret, making sure the media wouldn’t spread the news.” Behrouz paused as he gazed at the candle flame.
Eddie felt that Behrouz’s memories were reappearing in that flame, presenting themselves—one by one. After a few seconds, Behrouz carried on. “A few months after the revolution, all of us were on the run from the government’s secret agents. My wife was arrested and executed right away. My only objective at that point was to escape Iran as soon as possible to save our little son. I was able to leave the country secretly with him and stay in one of Iran’s neighboring countries for a few months. There, I submitted a refugee application for Canada which was accepted within two years.” Behrouz looked at Eddie and was moved to see Eddies’ eyes were wet.
“Oh, sorry, Eddie… I didn’t mean to upset you.” Behrouz pushed the tissue box towards Eddie.
As Eddie dried his eyes in silence, Behrouz reached out to his own cell phone hastily and tried to change the conversation. “Here’s a photo of my son; he is thirty-five years old now and has his own baby—a little girl!”
Behrouz shared his excitement as he handed his cellphone to Eddie. “He probably doesn’t even remember those days. He has his own life now,” said Behrouz reassuringly.
Eddie smiled. Behrouz felt a bit relieved and continued: “As for me, this restaurant is my life now. Cooking and talking to the customers keeps me busy and out of trouble!”
Eddie laughed and remarked, “You sure cook really well!”
“So, to prove it, you should visit me again!” Behrouz pointed out. “You are a gentle soul, Eddie! I enjoyed talking to you!”
“Finding your restaurant was a miracle!” expressed Eddie, “I enjoyed talking to you too! Maybe you can come to downtown to visit me, sometime!”
“I’d love that! During the many years I’ve been living here I’ve visited downtown only twice,” Behrouz confessed shamefully.
“Really? Then I must definitely show you around,” Eddie asserted. “Now, I need to leave to get downtown on time; can you please give me the bill?”
“Oh, no, you are not paying anything,” replied Behrouz. “You are my guest.”
Eddie was surprised. “But why? I do have money!” he said in an offended tone.
“Of course, I know,” Behrouz replied. “This is the rule of my restaurant: my first-time guests shouldn’t pay.”
Eddie hesitated for a second but accepted the offer. “Okay, thank you!”
“You are very welcome, Eddie! Do visit me again,” said Behrouz as Eddie was walking out of the restaurant.
On his way to the shelter, Eddie recalled the story of Behrouz’s life. It is dreadful to have your loved ones executed. I wonder how the guy can be so warm and friendly, Eddie thought. How is it possible that a government kills so many of its own people?
The next day, Eddie could not stop wondering when he would head to Behrouz’s restaurant for some ghormeh sabzi again. He convinced himself to wait until the next weekend to go up to North York.
The following Saturday, as Eddie arrived at Behrouz’s restaurant, he noticed he had no money on him. “There is a high chance that I can find some ghormeh sabzi among the lunch leftovers,” Eddie reassured himself as he headed to the garbage cans at the back of the restaurant.
He found three, large garbage bins at the back door. It was a devilishly cold day in February. Eddie started searching the bins as he was shivering. He could already smell the ghormeh sabzi. He just had to find it. As he was busy searching, he heard a voice behind him: “Eddie, is that you?”
Eddie turned around. It was Behrouz, standing behind him with an astonished gaze. “What are you doing with the garbage can?”
Eddie looked down and muttered, “Looking for ghormeh sabzi.”
He then looked up into Behrouz’s eyes and said, “Don’t you dare judge me!” in a serious tone.
Behrouz began to bite his moustache as he examined Eddie. “No Eddie, I don’t judge you. Each of us have our own way of living, but you are my friend and I expect you to come to my restaurant when you feel like having ghormeh sabzi. Why on earth shall you search for it in the garbage can? I don’t care if you usually do that, but at my restaurant, I expect you to come and dine with me at one of my tables.”
Eddie felt a thousand cold needles poking all over his body. He was speechless. Behrouz held onto Eddie’s arm and led him towards the restaurant’s front door. “It is too cold here; let’s talk inside,” suggested Behrouz.
As they entered the restaurant, Behrouz headed to the kitchen. Eddie sat at a table. He felt awkward—partly ashamed and partly happy. It was one of the few times that he felt ashamed of looking for food in a garbage can. He was concerned how he should tell Behrouz that he had no money to pay for the ghormeh sabzi. But he was also glad that Behrouz saw him and brought him in. It felt good to see Behrouz again and to have the chance to talk with him.
Behrouz returned carrying a tray. There was a plate of rice, a bowl of ghormeh sabzi and two dessert plates with a piece of cake on each. “No better way to celebrate one’s birthday than with a friend!” expressed Behrouz as he placed the plates on the table. “Eddie, today is my birthday and your sudden appearance is my birthday surprise!”
Behrouz sat down in front of Eddie and continued: “I’ve already had lunch. So, you can have yours and we will have our cake together.”
The smell of ghormeh sabzi tickled Eddie’s nose and he started eating quickly as soon as Behrouz sat down. Behrouz let him eat for a few minutes in silence and then said, “I have an issue here in the restaurant Eddie and you might be able to help me out.”
Eddie took a curious look at Behrouz. “One of the waiters is leaving for BC,” Behrouz went on, “so, I need someone to help me. I was wondering if you would be interested. We can work together, hang out, share memories and have ghormeh sabzi whenever you like! What do you think, Eddie?”
Eddie was bewildered. He stopped eating and put his fork down. His gaze wandered around as his mind was bombarded with questions, same as the day he decided to leave home as a teen. All of a sudden, his gaze froze at one of the indigo tiles on the restaurant wall as it glittered for a split second.
Bahar Davoudi is an Iranian-Canadian poet and author based in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and a member of the Madwomen in the Attic writing group at Carlow University. She holds a PhD degree in Medical Biophysics and works as a scientist. Bahar’s poems and short stories are strongly inspired by Persian and Latin-American literature. Her interest lies in leveraging theatrical concepts such as imagery, movement, and metaphors in her writing.