Bye, Bye New York: Emad Kiyaei

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Go back to [Bye, Bye New York: Emad Kiyaei} Episode. 
 

Host: Dan Kennedy

 

Dan: [00:00:00] Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I’m Dan Kennedy. On today’s episode, a story that was told last month at a Moth GrandSLAM here in New York, in Brooklyn, actually. 

 

So, at Moth GrandSLAMs, 10 Moth StorySLAM winners face off against each other. They tell brand-new stories. And at the end of the night, one storyteller is declared the GrandSLAM champion. So, it’s really kind of the best of the best from our open-mic storytelling series. 

 

This event was a first in Moth GrandSLAM history, because we had one storyteller who was not live on stage, but joining us from Cape Town, South Africa, via Skype audio. So, virtual participation in a live Moth show is usually a no-go, obviously. But in this case, we made a much-deserved exception for reasons I think are best explained by our host for the evening. Here’s Ophira Eisenberg. She’s going to introduce our storyteller, Emad Kiyaei. The theme of the night was Lost and Found.

 

Ophira: [00:00:59] Okay, so, to start off the second half, I did mention at the beginning of the show, people do travel to New York from all over the place and they may come to a SLAM, they may get the chance to come up and tell a story and they may win. And if they don’t live here and they travel back to their home, we invite them to the GrandSLAM and they have to come to New York to do it. 

 

But we have an exception with the storyteller who won a SLAM and then he was forced to leave the country, because immigration for some nationals has become more complicated. The Moth decided that in this case, this person’s story should be heard and there would be an exception made. We are actually going to do a Skype audio with them, so we can have him as part of our show. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

So, it’s going to be like a little bit of a different feel, but we all obviously can listen to this person. If you would like a visual, their picture is actually in your program. He is going to be Skyping in from Cape Town, South Africa. I actually haven’t put together right now what the time zone is, but [chuckles] I’m just impressed. [audience chuckles] Yeah, super, super late. So, a million things are happening, so the storyteller can be part of the show. So, please welcome Emad Kiyaei.

 

[cheers and applause] 

 

Emad: [00:02:45] Good morning, New York. [audience laughter] I’m so sorry that I’m not there in person. You have no idea how much I miss that beautiful city, and its smelly subways. But I hope that my story will give you a rough idea about why I’m not there. 

 

I’m Iranian and I was raised in South Africa. Until even now, I still work on eradicating weapons of mass destruction from the Middle East. A simple task. But my story begins 16 years ago when I was in South Africa and I Yahooed-- There was no Google then. I Yahooed a cheap good university in New York, so I could make my dream come true to come to America. I got into Stony Brook University on Long Island, not knowing that Long Island is not a borough of New York City. [audience laughter]

 

I packed up my small belongings into two suitcases, and a backpack and stuffed all of my savings, so I could pay for the cheap tuition in America, into my jacket, because it was cold winter in Cape Town. I embarked for New York in the heat of the August sun and arrived at JFK Airport fresh off the boat, literally not knowing anyone in New York. As I stood in the immigration line, there were CNN screens with the news and a ticker on the bottom that said, “Orange Alert: Eminent terrorist attack suspect student from a third-world country.”

 

I stared at this ticker as it played over and over as I stood in this long line for immigration. And for some reason, I felt like heated and started to sweat wearing this oversized jacket with all my money in it. As I approached the immigration officer, I gave him my passport. He looked at me, he looked at the passport, he looked at me, he looked at the passport, and I will never forget his face or his hands when it started shaking. And within a few seconds, it felt like eternity, I was surrounded by immigration officers, military dogs and people in plain suits, plain clothes screaming at me, “Step to the side, sir, step to the side.” 

 

They moved me, hushed me inside this cubicle just out of the novices and a light table, two chairs, a one-way screen. I sat there being interrogated over and over and over again as they went through every piece of my belongings. And in it, they found a letter that my father had written me just before I left, since I had left my home, my family, my loved ones. And it was a long letter in Farsi with Arabic alphabet. They found all this cash, Benjamins, stuffed in my jacket and they thought that I was the one. They brought in a translator to read this letter as if it was instructions by some terrorist organization. The translator looked at me as he read this letter and translated it. “Your father, I see this as a letter from a father to a son. And your father is such a poet. It is a beautiful letter.” And yet he said, “I’m sorry that you have to go through this.” 

 

Eight hours later, after being on an 18-hour flight from Cape Town, I finally was let go. I found myself alone with my suitcase wide open with my clothes spilling over and my belongings on the floor of JFK. Packing myself, feeling ashamed, feeling so lonely and not knowing how the hell I would get to Long Island in the dead of night. There was, though, this African-American lady who was cleaning the airport. And God bless her, because she gave me such accurate instructions and even took me to catch a bus to Jamaica Station and then the train to Stony Brook. 

 

I tell you this story, because I would like to now fast forward to 16 years later in this oddless time, New York was my home, where I first fell in love and first heartache, where I roamed the city and hustled like everybody else, where I got my education, my career and my friends who became my family. But unfortunately, in the aftermath of the elections, my people, my kind, were no longer welcome. And after a strenuous process of trying to get my permanent residency in the United States, and while everything was fine, suddenly things had changed and my application was denied. I was given a very small window to pack up my shit and leave the United States. It was as if I had found myself again selling or getting rid of everything. 

 

My books are scattered among the homes of my friends. My treasures have been given to friends and family. I packed up my stuff and ironically again, two suitcases and a backpack. This time, the contents are a little bit more meaningful and important to me. It was with heart that I had to leave the city that I call home. And it is an irony that after so many years, again I’m packing my bags, and thanks to immigration and to the policies of the United States government, it has become so difficult for us to be mobile. But I don’t want to end this on a bad note, because I was sent off and forced out of the country in the dead of winter in New York in February, and coming to the summer of Cape Town, which is absolutely gorgeous. [laughs]

 

So, there is some beauty to it, but it was a lost and found and loss in a sense, because it is very difficult to reconcile that my whole life, my most important years, have been spent in New York. And to that I want to say that I hope that one day will come and this time will pass. It is incredible the amount of heart outpour and the abilities of civil society to really challenge what has happened in the United States. I give you power, I give you love and I send you all from the end of the world in Cape Town, and I thank you for allowing me to tell you my story. Thank you.

 

[cheers and applause] 

 

Ophira: [00:10:19] Emad Kiyaei. 

 

[holler, cheer and applause]

 

Dan: [00:10:26] That was Emad Kiyaei. It was almost 04:00 AM in Cape Town when Emad told his story, and yet the judges gave him the highest score of the night and he pulled out a win at that GrandSLAM. 

 

Ophira: [00:10:38] Emad is on the line. Emad, hey, you are the winner. Congratulations.

 

Emad: [00:10:45] [laughs] That’s amazing. That’s amazing. Wow.

 

Dan: [00:10:51] Consider how hard it is making a connection with an audience from 20-feet away, let alone almost 8,000 miles. As he mentioned, Emad is continuing his life’s work of ridding weapons of mass destruction in the Middle East and bringing peace to the region from his current home in Cape Town, South Africa. He’s also a professor and a storyteller. 

 

If you’ve got a story of your own, you can find a Moth StorySLAM, our open-mic storytelling competition, nearest you. You can throw your name in the hat and maybe even go on and tell your story that night. To find the StorySLAM nearest you, just check our site and get details on all of our upcoming events at themoth.org. We hope to see you soon. And from all of us here at The Moth, we hope you have a story-worthy week.

 

Julia [00:11:36] Dan Kennedy is the author of Loser Goes First, Rock On and American Spirit. He’s also a regular host and storyteller with The Moth.

 

Dan: [00:11:43] Podcast production by Julia Purcell and Paul Ruest. And a special thanks to Chloe Salmon and Jenifer Hixson for their help on this episode. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at prx.org.