Yasmeen Aidinjead was born in April, 1969. The youngest of 8 children, she was adored and addressed by many loving pet names. Her beautiful mom used to call her Chamanoo; her father would call her Baba Joon, and all her aunts and sisters would have their own pet names for her which would end with Joon or Azizam (meaning “dear” or “beloved” in English).
Yasmeen would however like to call herself الهام (Persian for inspiration). Another subtle meaning for الهام is revelation, and it was this connotation that Yasmeen felt was her true personification.
Thanks to her father’s hard work, Yasi and her brother (me, Reza) were born into a comfortable middle-class family. Our mom was never too busy to love her youngest, and all my sisters and aunts showered her with love and attention on top of what she received from her mom.
As the only spoiled son in our family I would sometimes resent all the attention showered on her, but she would always find a way to out class me. When Yasi wanted to soothe herself she would often play with her belly button (which she would call Noosht). She would always get immediate attention and lots of hugs and kisses as a result. I would respond by banging my toys and making noise but I would not get very far.
My memory is somewhat hazy from the time in Tehran Pars neighborhood. It was a big house but inadequate for our growing needs as a family. She and I attended school together during that time, but the book of our lives quickly turned to the next chapter when we were suddenly discussing “how nice this house is.” It was a mansion that my dad had built in North Tehran for his children and all their needs, and I don’t think it had dawned on Yasi and me that we had just moved into our dream home. Being close in age and only two years apart, we were running up and down the stairs and checking out all the rooms while playing hide-and-seek. It looked like a luxury hotel to us with all the brand-new rooms and beautifully made bathrooms and kitchen. She and I had our own individual rooms now, but we would play many board games and spend time in our TV Room (which was usually the focal point for the family).
One-by-one however our sisters began to leave our country for overseas, and Yasi and I became more dependent on each other. Our peaceful childhood was not meant to be when the monarchy was toppled in the 1979revolution, and then the Iran-Iraq war ensued. We comforted each other during those turbulent times for about 5 years until it was time for us to leave our beloved home.
Yasi had an amazing ability to adapt to new environments. Through her family’s collective sacrifice she made a good life for herself in America. She finished high school; graduated from Oregon State University, and then she followed in her dad’s footsteps and became an attorney after attending Kent Law School.
However she never liked the cutthroat world of litigation, and later in life decided to dedicate her life and talent to more noble causes. First through the UN and then through the Department of Homeland Security, she began to fight for refugees and asylum seekers and fought to give them a chance for a better life.
Her own struggles as an immigrant and the good life that America had given her had convinced her that there was a higher purpose to her life, and helping refugees and people in need was the inspiration that الهام had finally been seeking.
Yasi and I had been somewhat been separated through the years, but I am glad that 6 years ago she stayed with me at my house near Seattle for a few weeks. She and I never married and the nomadic life due to the Iranian revolution had taken its toll on our personal lives. But by that time promoting the cause of refugees and helping those in dire need had reflected positively on her life, and being single and childless did not cause as much regret. She traveled extensively for her work with refugees and asylum seekers in Europe and the Middle East; met many wonderful and kind people, and was finally at peace with herself and enjoying her life and who الهام had become.
Yasi was a part of all of us, and when she suddenly passed away a part of us died with her. None of us had ever expected to hear the terrible news, and it will take a long time for us as a family to finally accept it (or at least come to terms with it). The day of her passing I had a vision of her and my mom happily holding each other and smiling at me. I then understood why.
