Breaking Bread with Satan

DEDICATION

For my parents – two of the kindest, most giving, most loving, and most dignified people I know. Their everlasting influence on our lives has become our rock, our soul, and our foundation. They are two of the most generous human beings who have done everything in their power throughout their lifetime to provide for, and give everything to, their children. For my siblings, who will always be my true best friends through thick and thin, and who will provide me with the anchor I will always revert to. And for my husband, whose love and support cannot even begin to be expressed in words. A person I wish I had known way before we actually met. Had that happened, it would’ve been a dramatically pivotal event that may have very well changed the course of our past, and of our lives.

FOREWORD

Imet Illyana late in life. She’s such an impressive woman. What struck me was her strength. Her inability to give up on anything. Her incredible heart and insistence to put others ahead of herself. Her closeness and love for her family. Her empathy. Her intellect. Her loyalty. After just one evening with her, my parents told me I hit the jackpot. I sure did.

Hearing the stories of her past assured me that she had a different normal than most of us. But it was her normal. Her family’s normal. Gamblers may continue to lose and still gamble. That’s their normal. Abused spouses may continue to be victimized. That’s their normal. Commuters who spend 2 hours commuting continue that commute. That’s their normal. Abusive drinkers may continue to drink abusively. That’s their normal. Residents of dangerous neighborhoods may stay there. That’s their normal. What seems unusual or extraordinary to some is totally normal to others. This bizarreness was routine for Illy’s family. Like many, they were susceptible. They were victimized. It was constant. It was daily. It was their normal.

As you read what follows, think of your own types of normal throughout your life. Would you change them? If it’s your normal, would you even think to? Could you? On your own? Illy lived the most abnormal normal imaginable and tells us about them in her own words. A normal that was fraught with deceit, mistrust, Hollywood-like episodes, and soap opera-like drama.

It’s been said that our experiences shape us. And while I’d never wish what happened to Illy on anyone, what she and her family experienced hardened them. It gave her family a closeness few others have. It helped mold the woman I fell in love with. That’s the incredible Illy I married and the lovely family who welcomed me so graciously.

God doesn’t give us situations or challenges we can’t handle. Faced with adversity, some give up. Some dodge it. Some fight it. Most learn from it. While this memoir can be seen as therapeutic for Illy, some readers will justifiably find it to serve as her warning to them to never let their guard down. Cynicism is okay. But there’s a fine line between being cynical and blind trust. For other readers, it’s a true and suspenseful tale to keep you occupied for hours. For many of you, this will be the most significant reading of your life. It will teach you to open your eyes, to keep them open, where to look, how to see, and when to blink. So, find your comfortable reading spot. Appreciate her journey. Empathize. Tell Illy and her family not to climb those stairs or open that door or slide open those curtains. Then see them do it.

-Sami Taheri

CHAPTER ONE

It was Tuesday, October 11, 1994. It was actually a pretty nice day for the season. Life was okay. We lived our lives day-to-day, just like anyone else. I had just graduated from college. My older bother and sister were in their last semester of college. We were all preparing for graduation ceremonies in December.

A few days earlier, I had been talking to a good friend about her problems. She was explaining to me how her mother finally arrived into this country only ten days earlier to be with her three children. Her mother came with a man. From her tone, I could sense some sort of anger or jealousy. However, she only focused on how that man was brought to help her and her family. We were in my car in a parking lot when she was telling me that she has felt so much better since she has met this man. She described the feeling as something being lifted from her shoulders. She discussed how this man makes her feel so much better by talking her problems through. I believe her exact words were he is just like a psychologist. I had only met him once before at her home for maybe 10 seconds. The minute I saw him, our eyes met for two seconds, yet, I felt I was looking into a deep and mysterious well, full of questions. There was also some feeling of fear and caution. I can not describe it any other way.

She then explained how she thought I also needed to talk to someone like that. Because of certain occurrences in our lives up to that point, we were ready to hang on to any type of hope – without question. Also, because of these occurrences, this man was introduced under the guise of religion. He was described as a man of God who possessed certain powers. Besides his natural gift of eloquent speech, he had certain mystical abilities. Since this, of course, was not normal, he never revealed himself to just anyone. He was very wary about who he exposed this to and who he chose to help.

My friend said she would try her best to discuss my family’s situation to him. She felt he would be a great help to all of us, especially me. She insisted that he may not be comfortable talking to us and being exposed, but she would try. As for her treatment, he was still working on her and they were not finished. I finally agreed and thanked her for her help.

On October 11, my sister’s fiancé was visiting from California. They were due to be married in January of 1995, after graduation. He had been here for a couple of days and his flight was set to depart that afternoon. My mother, my sister, and I all went to drop him off at the airport. When he left, my mother and I were still in the car. My mother turned to me and looked at me in the strangest way. She asked what was wrong and I said nothing. When my sister came back in the car, she saw what my mother saw and asked me the same thing. They both said I had a very faraway and sad look in my eyes. I looked extremely alone and depressed, like I was about to cry. I couldn’t figure out why, since there was really no reason to feel that way. I just attributed it to my sadness at my sister’s upcoming move to another state to start a new life with her new husband. Later on, it seemed that my mother, sister, and father had that same look on their faces. It was very strange.

When we all got home in the evening, our friend called and was so happy because the man agreed to meet with us. She said for us to come right away. My father, mother, sister, and I all went to their house that night. Greetings and introductions were exchanged. We all sat and talked. My sister and I were the closest, physically, to the man. Yet, we were both scared for some reason and made every attempt to keep our heads turned away from him. He was quiet, sitting, and observing. The conversation turned strange when he explained to my parents who he is, what he does, and why he agreed to see us, thanks to persistence from our friend’s grandmother. He explained how he was a distant cousin of the grandmother’s. His formal occupation was a businessman/entrepreneur. From the way he spoke, it was obvious he was well-off. In fact, during the conversation, our friend’s grandfather leaned over to whisper to my father that this man was worth about seven million dollars, something my family was never interested in due to our upbringing.

The man proceeded to explain how he helped our friend and freed her from the evil that possessed her. He had such a charismatic way of speaking. He was so honest, so caring, so trusting. He was a very religious man with strong ties to his faith. His main concern was to assist people in any way possible. Since he had certain abilities, he had a gift for reading people’s minds and knowing what lurked in them – good and bad. He further explained that God had given him these powers to use, not abuse. They were only to be used for good. Otherwise, he would lose his abilities.

He discussed our friend’s situation and the nights that led up to the final night of exorcism. She was so controlled by evil forces that it took the strength of four of her uncles and himself to bring her to the bedroom to perform the exorcism. She, or the evil inside her, was fighting him so hard, yelling, and screaming, even throwing a cup of boiling tea on him, but missing. He finally succeeded. Once the evil was out of her, she became the normal human being she used to be. She was loving and caring again. He helped restore her shattered relationship with her mother. She loved him dearly and could not stand to be away from him. He said this, in particular, was a feeling all of his patients showed once they were cured. They simply did not want to part his side. She even made him help her sleep every night. She was that serene at his side. It seemed obvious our friend was leaning toward viewing him as the father she lost, along with the feeling of him being her savior. In her eyes, he was the link to happiness.

After all these discussions, he proceeded to ask my father’s permission to begin working on my sister first. He took her into the bedroom where they talked a little more and became more familiar with each other. He then began to work on her. When they were finished, about twenty or so minutes later, it was my turn. When my sister came out, she looked fine – more at ease, calmer, more comfortable. I figured if he helped in allowing her to feel this way, he must have done something right. Regardless, I was scared. Going into the bedroom I didn’t know what to expect. I went in and sat on the edge of the bed. We talked for a couple of minutes. He then said he was going to begin working on me. The first thing he did was to walk over to the light switch. Given the fact that I have always been petrified of the dark, I asked him quickly what he was doing. He said he had to turn the lights off. That’s the way it is. Otherwise the scene would not be set up right for healing to take place. I had no response for that. As the lights came off, I became stiff. I could still see his silhouette walking over toward me.

As he came closer, the strangest thing happened. All I saw was a figure coming toward the bed. For some reason, this figure had grayish white hair parted to the side, but no face! I tried to find facial features or the outline of a nose or something. There was nothing – just a plain black face. It was an eerie black. Just hair with no face attached. I was truly frightened. He proceeded to come closer. When he finally reached me, I could see the face re-appearing. It was a scary transition. He began to do his work. He read on me. They were supposed to be words of faith and healing. I guess I began to relax, just listening to his soothing voice. He was whispering fast with his lips constantly moving. They would pucker and form a mostly closed o.  He must have read for about 10 minutes. I remember him asking me something. By that time, he was next to me on the bed, almost lying on top. I do not recall the exact question. For some reason, I began to cry uncontrollably. It was then that something happened. I can not describe it in words. He lifted me up and hugged me tight like a father shielding his child from harm. He said, That’s it. We are done for now. You are on your way. The healing should be easy from now on. For tonight, we were done. It was enough pressure for now. He hugged me again. I felt safe. I felt pretty good actually. We went out into the room where everyone else was sitting. My sister and I, along with our friend, talked about how we felt. Our friend was so excited for us to finally be receiving the help we always needed. She just kept saying things like How does it feel? Good, right? Don’t you feel like something’s been lifted off your shoulders – a huge weight? And my sister and I both agreed. We did feel good. Different, but good. Things were changing. The rest of the night was spent just talking and socializing. We ended the night with the agreement that we would be returning the following day to continue treatment.

We slept comfortably that night. The next morning, my sister and I went to their house at the agreed-upon time. We rang the doorbell. They let us in. They acted kind of surprised to see us – like they weren’t expecting us. Our friend’s mother was sitting on the loveseat with her younger daughter. Her mother (our friend’s grandmother) was sitting on the opposite chair. Our friend was sitting on the sofa between them with the man stretched out next to her with his head in her lap. I got this strange feeling in me. It hit me hard with a pang. The minute I laid eyes on that sight, I said to myself that those two have a relationship together – and it wasn’t pure. They all got up to say hello to us. I quickly pushed all bad thoughts aside and out of my head. When he said hello and hugged us in such a loving, fatherly way, I felt so ashamed of my thoughts. I felt horrible for even thinking such impure thoughts about this man who was here to help us.

We continued with the routine reading to help cure us. He finished with my sister first, then me. When he finished his work, we talked a little. It was the strangest thing. It’s like he knew exactly what I was thinking. He asked if it had bothered me to see him lying down with his head in my friend’s lap, and with her mother and grandmother next to them in the same room. I said yes it was. I wondered how he knew. He then revealed how these abilities that he has allowed him the power to be able to read someone’s mind. That just blew me away. It’s really scary to know that even your most private thoughts inside your head are no longer private. You feel so exposed. Like your deepest thoughts are just out there for everyone to read and see.

He explained how he loved this girl like his own daughter. His helping cure her created a special bond between them like it does for all those he cures. The treatment process creates a sense of attachment to him. He went on to explain that the evil inside of me is what caused me to have those impure thoughts. The evil does not like him, knows that he was sent to cure us, and purposely wants us to hate