A New Entry in the Canon of Orphan Literature

He begins the story cradling his father’s headstone, a symbol, as there is no body, and prepares to set it next to his mother’s grave.

Baba was a teacher. Dead now.

This is how the book, The Teacher of Nomad Land, narrated by thirteen-year-old Babak, begins. Baba is the Farsi word for father. Babak’s father is dead. He begins the story cradling his father’s headstone, a symbol, as there is no body, and prepares to set it next to his mother’s grave. Babak and his eight-year-old sister, Sana, are now orphans.

The novel is set during World War II when Iran was technically a neutral country, but like Casablanca, it had become a hotbed of action with the Shah’s secret police, spies from the Russians, British forces occupying part of the country, and German spies all vying for information and power.

Middle schoolers are hungry for older themes. They are curious about everything and do not want to be talked down to. Some adults forget what a pivotal age this is, for it is when one takes steps toward the type of adult one wants to be. Sometimes this can get children into trouble, when they have not yet learned the basics of life and death. Author Daniel Nayeri never talks down to children. He respects them and clearly remembers what it was like to be thirteen or even eight. He reveals the realities of war in an age-appropriate manner.

Babak and Sana are quickly separated by remaining family members. It’s the best they can do during wartime, his aunt confesses. Babak somewhat agrees, “there is no earthly argument for orphans to get their way. If there was, they wouldn’t be orphans.” The siblings promise to reunite.

When they do, they set out to escape the streets of Tehran and travel with the group of nomads their father last taught as a traveling teacher. The children have no means of work beyond their father’s portable chalkboard, which Babak carries on his back. Babak hopes that like his father he can teach some of the children to read. But he is not yet a teacher, just another hungry mouth to feed and slow the nomads down. Babak and Sana are eventually booted out of the group and sent on the perilous journey back to Tehran.

On the way back, the children meet a German spy and then the Jewish boy, Ben, that he is hunting. These children know some but not all the truths of war, and they are reluctant to team up with Ben, not because of his ethnicity or religion but because he whines and cannot cook or forage. They need a co-traveler who can earn his keep and not just eat their food. But the three are children, pure even in their hunger, and compassion prevails. It is when they find themselves with a common enemy, the grown-up German who wants to kill them, that they team up and crisscross the country back to the nomads and eventually Tehran.

In a time when Iranians most often appear in narratives of oppression and authoritarianism, this book tells the story of the type of people I grew up with in Southern California, those whose families escaped in the late 1970s and cherished a culture seeped in ancient history, poetic language, magical realism, and most of all humor.

Each group in this story speaks at least two languages, and Nayeri enjoys playing with the miscommunication that multiple languages bring. For example, a British solider named Callum introduces himself, and the children think his name is Cabbage as that is the Farsi word his name sounds like.

The climax of the story culminates with a version of the game telephone, translating between English, Russian, Polish, a Nomadic dialect, and Farsi. Through Babak’s love of languages and patience for clear communication, he discovers his vocation as a teacher, just like his father.

Nayeri’s research into Iran’s position in World War II revealed one of the most significant yet forgotten elements of the story, that Polish Jewish refugees escaped to Iran and were later taken to Palestine. In fact, the nearly one thousand child refugees who were settled in Tehran became known as “the Tehran Children” and were the focus of many diplomatic measures. Their story is a heartening reminder of a time when Israel and Iran had more friendly relations.

Teacher of Nomad Land joins the canon of orphaned children’s literature. Like Anne of Green Gables, Boxcar Children or even Jane Eyre, these children refuse to resign themselves and instead learn resilience by fighting for survival. I would not wish such hardships on any middle school reader, but hope that in reading about such strong characters, they will not resign themselves to trials learn how to become the resilient adults they hope to be.

Image Credit: Hamid Rahmanian, “Kay Khosrow Crosses the Oxus River” (2013)

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Shemaiah Gonzalez

Shemaiah Gonzalez is a storyteller and essayist with degrees in English Literature (B.A.), Intercultural Ministry (MAPS) and Creative Non-Fiction Writing (MFA). She thrives in moments where storytelling, art, literature, and faith collide. Her work has appeared in America MagazineDappled Things, Our Sunday Visitor and Loyola Press, among others. Her book Undaunted Joy: The Revolutionary Act of Cultivating Delight was published with Zondervan in 2025. A Los Angeles native, she now lives in Seattle with her husband and their two teen sons.

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