Neshat Memorial
Audacious and articulate, Neshat Samandari Jazab was ahead of her times. She earned a doctorate when most women in her country did not have a high school education. Eager to be a world citizen, she traveled the globe and lived on three continents.
Neshat means happiness, and true to her name, she invariably found reasons to be joyful. Samandari, her maiden name, means “of the phoenix.” Indeed, she and her five siblings were a fiery bunch- passionate, eloquent, creative, fearless, and repeatedly able to arise victorious over adversity. Neshat was born on June 13, 1929, in Qazvin, Iran. This famed city was on the Silk Road and once the capital of the Persian empire. Treasures of art and architecture surrounded the inhabitants, refining their sensibilities and love for beauty.
In the mid-1800s, Neshat’s great-great-grandfather, Shaykh Muhammad, was a prosperous merchant in Qazvin’s bazaar and built a spacious home with large windows, a luxury for the time. His three-story house met the needs of a sizable family, including five daughters and five sons. He was the first in his family to embrace the Baha’i Faith and introduced it to his clan, who collectively became followers. Education was unavailable to females in Iran, and because the Baha’i Faith prioritized girls’ education, Shaykh Muhammad brought a live-in tutor to educate his ten children. For the Samandaris, education would remain a priority for generations to come.
Neshat’s mother, Lagha, taught her to recite Persian poetry from age four. The young girl was gifted in memorization and had no fear of the public. Qazvin’s city officials referred to her as a cultural highlight of the town, choosing her to recite poetry at ceremonial events. When Iran’s king, Reza Shah, dedicated Qazvin’s first railroad, Neshat recited a lengthy poem. Her remarkable performance impressed the stern monarch, who was not easily moved. Afterward, he approached Neshat to caress her hair, shake her hand, and compliment her. The king rarely offered praise.
Qazvin was home to one of Neshat’s favorite heroines and poets, the famed Tahirih, Iran’s first suffragette martyr, who defied norms by unveiling in public and holding literacy classes for women. Neshat’s distant aunt, Khatun Jan, dressed as a beggar in the dead of night and rescued Tahirih from imprisonment. Notwithstanding, freedom was short-lived, and the government confined Tahirih afresh. Her final words in 1852, before being strangled and thrown into a well, were prophetic: “You can kill me as soon as you like, but you cannot stop the emancipation of women.”
Neshat was an emancipated woman, earning a doctorate in pharmacy at Tehran University while completing a degree in linguistics. Women pharmacists were rare, and so was Neshat. Her bright personality, laughter, and boldness separated her from her peers. She was not a typical young Persian lady, reticent, coy, and limited by protocol. Hers was a free spirit, and she burst with authenticity. Amin Jazab met her at a youth event. She dazzled him with her bubbly personality and green eyes. They married in 1957 and had two daughters, Elham and Aram.
Neshat and Amin’s vision was world-embracing, and they devoted their lives to service in Asia, Africa, and North America, promoting the unity of humankind. During the Ten Year Crusade (an organized global expansion of the Bahá’í Faith), the Jazab family moved from Iran to Tunisia to offer medical services to the locals and live their Faith. Their goal was, “Let deeds, not words be your adorning.” Neshat placed her career on hold for two years, serving as a full-time mother, filling her daughters’ days with laughter, art, games, gardening, and spirituality. The house rang with her singing from morning to night.
In 1963, Neshat and her family participated in the Baha’i World Congress in London, where her grandfather, Tarazollah Samandari, addressed the 6000-member audience at the Royal Albert Hall. He related stories from his six-month visit to Haifa, Israel, in 1892 with Baha’u’llah, the Prophet of the Baha’i Faith. Tarazollah Samandari was the most influential person in Neshat’s life, and she lived two years with him as a teenager. His remarkable ways shaped hers, helping her grasp the purpose and meaning of life. He lived simply and was a proponent of justice during his 94 years.
In 1964 the Jazabs moved to Nashville, Tennessee, where Neshat studied medical technology, and Amin studied general surgery. Jim Crow laws were prevalent in the South, and schools were racially segregated. In no time, Neshat heard her daughters saying negative things about African Americans, which they picked up from the neighborhood. Hoping to rescue their girls from the scourge of prejudice, the Jazabs placed them in Moses McKissack School, an all-African American school. The students and faculty warmly welcomed Elham and Aram, who gained first-hand lessons about one human family.
At this time in Nashville, a group of inmates at the Tennessee State Penitentiary read an Ebony Magazine article featuring the Baha’i Faith. It sparked their interest, and they asked for Baha’i visitors. A team of Baha’is, including Neshat, approached the penitentiary Chaplain for permission to visit but were denied. Undeterred, Neshat thumbed through her Yellow Pages and called the penitentiary warden directly, inviting him to dinner. Over a Persian meal, the warden granted visitation privileges. Soon nine-year-old Elham and eight-year-old Aram accompanied their mother during monthly visits to have spiritual conversations with the inmates and share prayers.
In 1968, the Jazabs moved to Avon Park, Florida, where Amin served as chief medical officer at the Correctional Institution. The town’s racial climate was harsh, and in response, Neshat hosted dinners at home, inviting diverse people to socialize and form friendships. Despite hostile neighbors, she greeted everyone with a smile and organized regular Race Amity gatherings at the civic center to improve understanding among the races.
Neshat’s uncle, Dr. Mehdi Samandari, wrote from Cameroon, urging his niece to return to Africa. He stated, “One day in Africa is better than one year in America.” In 1970, the Jazabs relocated to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), which had recently gained independence from Belgium. They settled in Kinshasa, a sprawling capital on the Congo River, and were moved by the generosity and spirituality of the Congolese.
Neshat worked as a pharmacist at Kinshasa’s 1000-bed Mama Yemo Hospital, catering to a needy population, and Amin performed surgeries from sun up to sun down. Together they helped staff the FOMECO hospital boat, traveling 350 miles in one direction, offering treatment and lifesaving operations to isolated villagers along the Congo River.
In 1972, President Mobutu chose Amin to serve as his personal physician. This was in addition to Amin’s duties as a surgeon. His busy schedule took him out of the country for weeks with the presidential entourage while Neshat held down the fort. She juggled many activities sacrificially and behind the scenes, caring for her daughters, teaching children’s virtues classes, and hosting unity dinners at home. Many Baha’is stayed at their house for months while awaiting work permits. Neshat patiently nursed several with hepatitis back to health. Her love for children was profound, evidenced by the constant stream outside her door waiting for a tea party. They were never disappointed.
The Jazabs lived a stone’s throw from the Congo River and made friends with the Congolese in a nearby fishing village. Their new friends came over for Persian dinners, and the nucleus of a Baha’i community was formed in the village. Baha’i meetings alternated between the villager’s homes and the Jazab’s. Neshat never met a stranger or felt superior to anyone.
The 1992 revolution/pillage in the DRC forced Neshat and Amin to leave the country and move to America. Neshat’s grandchildren were thrilled to live closer to their grandparents. Neshat played endless games with them while improving their Farsi. The Jazabs resettled in Arizona and helped establish the first Baha’i Local Spiritual Assembly of Gold Canyon in 1994. They served as tutors in English and Farsi for study circles on “Reflections on the Life of the Spirit,” discussing how service and spirituality were inseparable. Traveling regularly to Globe, Arizona, they established bonds of friendship with the town’s Apache population, enjoying potlucks.
Regardless of the country, for over 61 years, the Jazab’s home was a gathering place for people of varied racial, religious, social, class, and ethnic backgrounds. Around their table, people laughed, ate, engaged in elevated conversations, and learned from one another. Raising a family on three continents was challenging, and Neshat eased the stress by creating a happy home. She focused on the positive aspects wherever they lived and refrained from criticism. Her example of acceptance and moving out of her comfort zone taught valuable lessons to her family. She viewed the earth as one country and humanity as its citizens.
Neshat radiated happiness well into her nineties, and most people remember her laughter, frank speech, and non-judgmental attitude. She was loved by her daughters, Elham and Aram; her son-in-law, Farsheed Ferdowsi; her granddaughter, Kimia, and her husband, Kenny Kline; her grandson Donesh; and her great-grandchildren, Cora Shiraz Kline and Serai Neshat Kline. Neshat will be missed by all who knew her.
Foremost a dedicated servant of humanity, these words of Abdu’l-Baha energized Neshat.
“The world of humanity is like unto a rose garden, and the various races, tongues and people are like unto contrasting flowers. The diversity of colors in a rose garden adds to the charm and beauty of the scene as variety enhances unity.”