| |
Sara was sent to live with relatives in a village where other children ran
from the sight of her. ''I looked scary to them, like something in a horror
movie,'' she said.
It was there, two-and-a-half years ago, that something Sara describes as
''like Cinderella, a fairy tale'' happened. Khojasteh Harandi, a well-to-do
Iranian-American woman, traveled from her home here to visit her native country.
As part of a charitable mission, she toured Taghva. Mrs. Harandi met Sara and
was instantly touched by the combination of her brutally disfigured face and her
spirited, intelligent personality. She made one of those quick decisions that
would change both of their lives forever.
''When I saw Sara, I don't know, something came to my mind, just came from my
heart and out of my mouth,'' Mrs. Harandi said in an interview. ''I cannot tell
you exactly why, but I said to her: 'Maybe I can do something for you in the
United States. Maybe I can help.' ''
Unlike many well-meaning ''maybes,'' this one materialized. In July, after
plowing through two years worth of legal paperwork, the Harandis -- Mrs.
Harandi's husband, Bagher, is a dealer in Persian rugs -- became 14-year-old
Sara's legal guardians and brought her to live with them.
Their own three children -- Dina, who runs D. Harandi Persian Rugs in
Manhattan; Amir, a medical student; and Layli, a psychology major -- spend most
of their time in apartments and college dormitory rooms of their own. Sara has
her own bedroom outfitted with a stereo CD player -- Ricky Martin is her
favorite -- a small electric piano, dozens of Braille books, including the
Koran.
When she is not attending classes at the New York State Institute for Special
Education in the Bronx, or doing homework, she also enjoys the greenhouse room,
filled with fragrant flowers and exotic cacti that are interesting to touch. She
is, she said, inexpressibly happy.
But her move to America is about more than enjoying comfortable surroundings;
about more even than getting a good education and becoming part of a family.
Several weeks ago, Sara underwent a procedure done in the New Haven office of
an ophthalmologic surgeon, Dr. Ali A. Khodadoust, an Iranian-American who
donated his time and expertise. Performed under local anesthesia, the surgery
partially reversed a painful inversion of her eyelids, so that her eyelashes no
longer stick into her sensitive, damaged eyes. On Wednesday, another
Iranian-American, Dr. Mokhtar Asaadi, a plastic surgeon who practices in
Manhattan and Livingston, N.J., will also donate his time to begin correcting
the massive damage the acid wrought 11 years ago.
''Even though she cannot look in a mirror, Sara knows how she looks, because
she can feel her face with her hands,'' Dr. Asaadi said. ''she told me on our
last visit that she needs a haircut; she 'sees' her hair and her face with her
fingertips.
''She is remarkably bright, sensitive, sharp. She listens when I explain
things and asks the most unbelievably advanced questions.''
Sara's nose was so badly burned that she must breathe through her mouth. Dr.
Asaadi will introduce temporary tubes into her nostrils to create breathing
passages. A CAT scan has revealed that the deeper parts of her nasal passages
are open and relatively clear, a very good sign for future normal breathing. Her
eyes, too, present some hope: the corneas are destroyed but the back part of the
eyes and the optic nerve are in better shape; with corneal transplants there is
a chance she could regain some sight.
Dr. Asaadi will also work on building up her nose for cosmetic purposes. In
the first operation he will create nasal-labial flaps, pieces of skin that run
from the corner of the nostril to the corner of her mouth. Eventually, these
flaps will be the raw material from which Dr. Asaadi can construct a new
normal-looking nose.
Sara's complexion will also need work. It has vastly improved from even six
months ago due to frequent applications of lotion. The color variations, the tan
blotches against the flesh tones, are still evident, but one day these too will
be corrected.
''The possibilities,'' Dr. Asaadi said, ''are endless.''
Endless not just in a technical, medical sense, but also in the realm of
emotions.
The Harandis are completely committed to Sara; the girl herself feels she has
landed in a dream world. She is thrilled with her friends from school, who
frequently visit at home, and with her adoptive older sisters who take her to
The Westchester mall.
She gets good grades in school, is already proficient at the computer, and
talks with confidence about becoming a lawyer. Her English, hesitant in the
first few months in this country, is getting better daily; her Persian
conversations with the Harandis are rapid-fire, filled with laughter, hand
gestures and clearly emotional inflections.
Yet Sara is neither so idealistic nor naïve as to expect things to run
altogether smoothly. She knows that she was a victim of something awful. She is,
she said, ''prepared to fight, to work hard, for what I want.''
As for the Harandis, they wear their charitable activities lightly. When Mrs.
Harandi told her husband she would be bringing Sara home, he simply said, ''Of
course, why not, she needs help.''
They founded Rahmat, an organization to raise funds for the many desperately
needy children in Iran. Already they have built a new gymnasium for Taghva; now
they are working on other projects.
''There are kids so poor, they have no kitchens in their homes, there is a
village so poor that its school has no bus, no heat, no glass for the windows,''
Mr. Harandi said. ''There are children in desperate need of medical care.'' (To
contribute to Rahmat, call 914-725-5511.)
Sara is proud of her new family's charitable work: ''I feel bad for the
classmates I left behind at my old school, I think about them a lot,'' she said.
She is still committed to her Iranian roots and religion, wearing the scarf
traditional for young Muslim women; reading the Koran in Braille daily.
Yet her newly learned American-style ebullience is also evident.
She has developed a philosophy that has probably enabled her to come this
far. ''I feel I had so much taken away from me early on, I will have, as I go on
in life, something very good given to me to make up for it.''
Eventually she wound up at Taghva, a state-run boarding school for the
blind in the city of Mashad.
Related Terms: