All praise be to Thee, O Thou, the Desire of every understanding heart!  Bahá’u’lláh

There are many people, places and events in my life which are links to my accepting the truth of Bahá’u’lláh. This is my story.

I was born Janet Ann Carnie on 20 July1957, in Hamilton, Scotland, the second of four children, and christened in the church of Scotland, a Protestant tradition. As a child at Sunday school, I imagined how wonderful it might be to be alive at the time of Jesus, to witness His return. The Second Coming fascinated me. I hoped somehow I might be lucky enough to experience it and looked for signs of confirmation. While playing on roller skates in a lane near my house on a bright sunny day, trees swaying above me, filled with wonder I prayed for a sign. A leaf was blown across my path. I picked it up, took it home and put it under my pillow. I had some kind of confirmation.

My mum, Catherine Foulds Robertson, had relatives who were missionaries who, while respected in taking the Gospel of Christ to other lands, were thought of as neglecting their families at home. Mum’s side of our family were from the west, Glasgow, Paisley, perhaps Colonsay. My dad’s (Thomas Cowan Carnie) family were from Newhaven, Burntisland and Edinburgh in the East. His father, a chief engineer in the merchant navy, experienced ‘automatic writing’, explained as when another spirit communicates through the writer. These letters were marked with an ‘x’ on the envelope and when I stayed with my grandmother she let me read them. Sometimes when he was at home with my grandmother his voice would change and he spoke with different accents conveying messages. This all happened privately and my dad did not like to dwell on it. My paternal great-grandmother used to paint, as though guided by a spirit, and one of her subjects was a middle-eastern woman, all very fascinating to me as a child.

Mum’s only brother, Johnstone Robertson, “Johnny”, married a London girl whom he met during the war and they moved to East Barnet, which is a stone’s throw from what was known then as the Great Northern Cemetery in New Southgate, London. Johnny, like my mum, was the life and soul of any party, gregarious, talkative and great fun. One of his friends, another pub regular, worked in the cemetery. He described a special grave of someone very important; people of all different nationalities visited it regularly. You can imagine my mum’s surprise when Johnny insisted that they visit the grave when Mum and Dad were on holiday with them. On their return, among all the stories of the holiday, the visit to the resting place of the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith stood out. I was not aware of their using the word Bahá’í, too complicated, but it made an impression on me nonetheless.

At 16 or so, my dear friend Elaine was going out with Alan McFadyen who knew Alfie Chattel, Hari Docherty and others associated with a flat in Hamilton. This was the hub of many Bahá’í activities in the seventies and I visited maybe once during that time. Elaine also used to tell me of firesides held at the Tahzib family home in Glasgow. I never attended at that time. There was a public meeting held in Calderwood, East Kilbride, near my home, a few in attendance, me included. Hari gave a talk. I persuaded him to visit my home afterwards. It may have been then that Mum connected what he was saying about the Bahá’í Faith with the visit to the Guardian’s Resting Place. Although I was intrigued, most of the discussion did not connect with me. In all my teenage arrogance and ignorance, I regarded religion as a crutch that ‘weaker’ people needed. Apart from following the quotations that were placed in our local newspaper, the East Kilbride News, I had no further association with the Faith.

Elaine and Alan went their separate ways and in 1974 I began a course in speech and drama at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in Glasgow. My older brother Tommy and myself were close. We enjoyed a similar sense of humour, music, hill walking, and in his case rock climbing. I respected and looked up to him. He was attending St Andrew’s university studying geology and had already led an expedition of the climbing club to Eastern Turkey near lake Van. He pioneered a route on one of the peaks and our house was named after it, Mirhamza. This drew comments and questions from postmen and the like who came to the door, not to mention the neighbours, not one of whom was from an ethnic minority background, unless, in a staunchly Protestant town you consider Catholics to tick that box!

In January 1975 Tommy died in the Cairngorms after completing “The Vent” Coire an Lochain, in preparation for ice climbing in Greenland. Blizzard conditions blew in suddenly and he fell from the top. This was a dreadful time for our family. Somehow I had a strong sense that though he was physically absent from our lives he had a different kind of existence now. I tried to explain this to my mum who struggled to come to terms with the loss of her first born, a son she was immensely proud of. I had a yearning for ‘something’ in my life and looked into zen Buddhism, meditation and Judaism but none of the isolation and countless rituals appealed to me.

Through all the radical socialist discussions with fellow students about manning barricades and the like, I always privately held a strong belief in God; an impenetrable Mystery, an all- embracing Reality that somehow I had to find. There had to be a way for me and everyone else on the planet to experience a sense of oneness.

It was 1978 and the final year of my course was at Jordanhill teacher training college in Glasgow. On completion I would go on to teach speech and drama in secondary schools. The tradition was that the drama students were involved in the production of a Shakespeare play at the end of the final term. In this instance it was ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. I had always wanted to play the part of Puck. For some reason that year the drama students boycotted the production, which meant that students from other disciplines had to be drafted in. I was determined to play my part nonetheless. From January through to June we all rehearsed regularly and I chatted with one of the cast, Brian O’Toole. There was something about him that intrigued me. Unbeknown to me he had told all the others in the cast about his being a Bahá’í and that his forthcoming marriage was to be the first of its kind in Scotland. Even during the Fast he made no mention of the Faith to me. The very final night of the play arrived and I would have no other opportunity to meet with Brian outside of the production. Waiting to go on stage I asked another member of the cast what Brian meant about his wedding. “Brian is a Bahá’í” she said very protectively as though expecting me, the socialist, feminist type to scoff.

Well, this was my moment, my second chance. Though Puck would be charming the audience for the final time, all I could think about was asking about Bahá’í. At the after-show party I sought out Brian and asked some questions. My heart was thrilled. Where there had been a mash of philosophies, politics and ‘new age thinking’, now there was clear, simple certitude. I stayed overnight at Pam O’Toole’s house and read some of The Hidden Words.  Two days later I wrote a letter stating that I wanted to become a Bahá’í. All a bit of a whirlwind, and I am thankful to those friends around me at the time who nurtured me along;Willie O’Brien, Rab and Maggie Nocher, Mitra Sabet, Richard Bury, SenobarTahzib, Singar Veloo and Kan Hoe, Tony and Nadia McGuire, Andy and Lorraine McCafferty, Ridvan and Anne Moqbel, Sean and Maolissa O’Rourke, to name a few. I attended many firesides and went on teaching trips to Skye and Ireland. My first summer school was at Glen Isla in Scotland. I had the bounty of sitting next to Ted Cardell on the bus back home and of asking many questions which were answered patiently and with great kindness.

I was never a big drinker so my social life did not drop off a cliff. However it was surprising to see the reaction from some friends who saw me as a free spirit and could not accept that I had found faith. I was now teaching drama in schools and though I spoke about the Faith to anyone who would listen, no one responded at that time. Nadia McGuire encouraged me to bring my sister Alison along and nine months later at age 16 she also declared. The Carnie sisters were the first indigenous believers in East Kilbride. Our dad used to say, ours was a Bahá’í home. Both our parents loved and respected the Bahá’ís. We held Feasts, firesides, public meetings, went on teaching trips, held prayer and devotional meetings, learned songs of course, attended unit and national conventions, held children’s classes, held deepenings which lasted way into the wee small hours, and cherished every Bahá’í book we came across, including The Gleanings, The Aqdas, The Iqan, and Nabil’s Narrative.

I served on the first Spiritual Assembly of East Kilbride and was secretary for a while. There were good links between the Assemblies in Lanarkshire and Glasgow and we all enjoyed a vibrant strong community. I invited Mum and Dad to many Naw-Rúz and Holy Day events which they enjoyed immensely. They made genuine and long-lasting friendships with Bahá’ís.

From November 1978 until February 1979 I was visiting a school friend in New Zealand. Imagine my delight when Rúhíyyih Khánum visited the sacred Maori land for a special weekend meeting in Auckland. When I told my friend that I was staying there with other Bahá’ís, she was both surprised and impressed, since only Maoris were allowed on the land. My round-the-world trip gave me many confirmations!

Returning to Scotland in 1979, my first Fast was a memorable one. Mum loved the fact that breakfast was already prepared for her, though she did wonder how I coped with the bitter cold days. The Fast has always been a special time for me. I love those moments that exist somewhere above the syllables and sounds of prayers and linger with a quiet peace throughout the day. Later that year, after the Iranian revolution, we welcomed the Sabeti family to East Kilbride. I helped with children’s classes and English lessons and our families became close friends. The Mazloomian family moved to Hamilton and we had youth weekends and deepenings and Holy Day parties. I learned how to count in Farsi and a few phrases for giving directions in the car.

By 1981 I was teaching drama in Larkhall Academy. Larkhall is a town renowned for red white and blue park railings and kerb sides, so not exactly open to new ideas! Maybe more like the Lanarkshire equivalent of Yazd.

With long school holidays I went to Guyana in the summer of 1982 where I joined the ‘Release the Sun’ teaching project. Brian and Pam O’Toole had moved there and helped set up many trips around the country to villages where we invited people to film shows and shared the message of Bahá’u’lláh. I met Mrs Meherangiz Munsiff who had pioneered to Madagascar years earlier and others from Canada and the USA. Among them was Jenabi Caldwell who was holding a nine-day intensive teaching preparation institute. During my last week I met Rickey Pooran and immediately felt an attraction, though it was not until 1984 that we were married. We exchanged letters across the Atlantic from October 1983 onwards until we both decided that we wanted to be married. My mum and dad were duly informed and welcomed Rickey into the family. We were married in our garden, which was where I had decided to become a Bahá’í. I served on the Scottish Teaching Committee and Rickey served on the National Teaching Committee.

In October 1984 my sister Alison moved out to Haifa and joined the janitorial staff so in 1985 we had the privilege of our first pilgrimage. One of the nights we stayed at the tea house in Bahjí, which was a magical evening!

Alison was married in September 1986 in Haifa. Mum, Dad and I were able to be there. We all of us sang at the wedding, even Dad! There is video footage of the performance.

We moved to Glasgow and served on the LSA there. One of the community highlights was organising a visit from Rúhíyyih Khánum in 1987. Govan Town Hall was the venue, a piper in attendance and many friends from around Scotland in the hall. Our home hosted Feasts, firesides, deepenings and visitors from far and wide.  Our first son Neil was born in June 1988, then when we moved out to Clarkston our second son Kenneth arrived in April 1991. Andrew Wilkinson stayed with us a while as he was working nearby. By this time I was working in Queen’s College in the west end of Glasgow. It was a busy time managing the household, raising the boys and continuing with Bahá’í activities. We also hosted students from the college who wanted to learn English.

Alison, husband and daughter moved to Canada in August 1989. This was a sad time since her husband had not secured employment and things were unsettled and insecure. It remained a great test for me and our family for a long time.

We moved house in 1995 to our present home. Rickey’s business life has been very successful and we are ever grateful for the blessings that come our way.

Sadly, Alison’s marriage ended but we were able to bring her and two of her three children home. We had plans for our later years, inspired by Betty Reed and Betty Shepherd. We wanted to travel around Scotland serving in whatever capacity we could but it was not to be. Alison was diagnosed with terminal skin cancer and passed away in March 2012. This was yet another tragedy for our family. Somehow we managed to cope but the loss of another child was hard to bear for Mum. We had managed to take her on our family pilgrimage in 2005 and thankfully Alison had managed to take two of her children to Haifa on pilgrimage in 2007.

Since the arrival of the Institute process I have been involved in becoming a tutor/ facilitator and have helped groups complete the various programmes. Now that boundaries have changed there are fewer Assemblies in Scotland.

It was a privilege to celebrate the Bicentenary of the Birth of Bahá’u’lláh in 2017 as well as the centenary of the visit of ‘Abdu’l Baha to Edinburgh in 2013. We look forward to the forthcoming Bicentenary in October this year.

I am also involved in our local interfaith group, the East Renfrewshire Faith Forum. We have a diversity day every year for groups of 10-year-old school children in the area.

Life passes very quickly and I am always so thankful for the guidance of Bahá’ulláh’s teachings in my life. Amidst all the utter confusion, division and dissent in society in general, the Message of Bahá’u’lláh brings me peace and certitude.

 

________________________

Janet Pooran

Giffnoc, Scotland, August 2019

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