When you travel from Istanbul to Tehran by bus, Iran starts at the first stop on the highway. The first talking with other passengers, all Iranians. We can speak Turkish together because they are from Tabriz, a city in the north of Iran, the majority of the population is Azerbaijani so their language is similar to Turkish. "Iran is not a good country" they say. They seem not happy to go back after a few days of work or holiday in Istanbul. The worse words are spent for the president Ahmadinejad, they don't hide their hate. They are surprised:
<<Why 2 Italians are going to Iran?>>. We are going for work, we say. After all it's not false, I am invited by a film festival.
<<Oh>>, they say. <<And how it comes that you speak Turkish?>>.
<<I live in Istanbul>>, I say.
<<What? An Italian living in Istanbul, going to Tehran by bus?>>.
<<What is strange? Istanbul is a good place>>.
<<Oh, Istanbul, we love this city, we use to reach it sometimes, we have friends there, we don't need visa, we can understand the language and we can have fun. All that is forbidden in Iran is free in Istanbul>>.
The travel goes on, the night comes, and then is morning. We are in the north-east of Turkey now, we pass Erzurun, 1700 meters over the sea level. The name of the city comes from Farsi, it means "The land of Romans", but now it's almost a border city in the east of Turkey, not far from Armenia (actually it was an Armenian natural town), but enough norther out of the hot Kurdistan. Anyway there some check-points on the road made by the "Jandarma", turkish army.
By the end of the day we are on the border. All the girls and women on the bus take their headscarf from the bag and wear it. They are all Iranians but none was wearing it in Turkey. But in Iran headscarf for women is compulsory. So does Ilaria, it's her first headscarf. Her face seems not that happy, just like all the faces of the women on the bus.
All the passengers take their bags and cross the border by foot, so we do. For the bus it will take 2 hours to cross, so it's better to leave it, pass the passports check and wait for the bus in the little square after the border, already in Iran.
It's the time for further discussions. Some guy gives us iranian bread and cheese they bought from the shop, they seem happy to find again their special bread, they are proud of it. It's soft, round and large, a bit scorched.
With the dark the bus takes over again. In the middle of the night there's a twist: the engine of the bus is not powered by the gasoline, we are on the side of the road in an industrial suburb of Tabriz. It's cold, windy. And we don't have idea when the bus will be ready to move. The 2 drivers and some passenger are there looking how to repair it. The stench of gasoline spreads into the bus. It's even hard to sleep, but out of the bus, on the street, is too cold. Will we be able to reach Tehran? It's already 1 day and half since we left Istanbul.
After 3 hours they can change the pipe thanks to a truck driver who stopped and providentially had such a thing with him. We will be in Tehran at the following noon.
Tehran. The official reason which brought me here is something which makes not me comfortable. I can realize it after 1 day. It's the "sacred defense week" in Iran, in memory of the invasion of Iran by the Iraqi army in september 1980, 30 years before. So during the festival is shown all the necessary to praise the nationalist pride. Then, there is a section dedicated to the foreign documentary film-makers. Good titles, nothing to say, but why the cinemas are always empty, despite a large promotional campaign? Iran is not one of the most important countries in Middle East in film culture? Why am I here? It's because I made a documentary talking about the palestinian resistance? What kind of resistance we are talking about? Is resistance the struggle of a country against the oppression of another country? But why it's not resistance also the struggle of a people against its own State oppression? Why it's not resistance also the struggle of a people against its own regime? It's because "resistance" is a convenient word when you are the oppressed and not when you are the oppressor? Why in the festival there's neither a minute of footage, a word, about the resistance of the young Iranians in the street 1 year ago fighting for more transparence in elections, against what was nearly certainly a big fraud in the elections, against an unilateral and theocratic regime?
These were my questions. But one was the worst: why am I here? I mean, how should I share the stage with other supporters of the palestinian cause who can not see how their "resistance" became "status", became "establishment", became "oppression"?
The travel goes on, the night comes, and then is morning. We are in the north-east of Turkey now, we pass Erzurun, 1700 meters over the sea level. The name of the city comes from Farsi, it means "The land of Romans", but now it's almost a border city in the east of Turkey, not far from Armenia (actually it was an Armenian natural town), but enough norther out of the hot Kurdistan. Anyway there some check-points on the road made by the "Jandarma", turkish army.
By the end of the day we are on the border. All the girls and women on the bus take their headscarf from the bag and wear it. They are all Iranians but none was wearing it in Turkey. But in Iran headscarf for women is compulsory. So does Ilaria, it's her first headscarf. Her face seems not that happy, just like all the faces of the women on the bus.
All the passengers take their bags and cross the border by foot, so we do. For the bus it will take 2 hours to cross, so it's better to leave it, pass the passports check and wait for the bus in the little square after the border, already in Iran.
It's the time for further discussions. Some guy gives us iranian bread and cheese they bought from the shop, they seem happy to find again their special bread, they are proud of it. It's soft, round and large, a bit scorched.
With the dark the bus takes over again. In the middle of the night there's a twist: the engine of the bus is not powered by the gasoline, we are on the side of the road in an industrial suburb of Tabriz. It's cold, windy. And we don't have idea when the bus will be ready to move. The 2 drivers and some passenger are there looking how to repair it. The stench of gasoline spreads into the bus. It's even hard to sleep, but out of the bus, on the street, is too cold. Will we be able to reach Tehran? It's already 1 day and half since we left Istanbul.
After 3 hours they can change the pipe thanks to a truck driver who stopped and providentially had such a thing with him. We will be in Tehran at the following noon.
Tehran. The official reason which brought me here is something which makes not me comfortable. I can realize it after 1 day. It's the "sacred defense week" in Iran, in memory of the invasion of Iran by the Iraqi army in september 1980, 30 years before. So during the festival is shown all the necessary to praise the nationalist pride. Then, there is a section dedicated to the foreign documentary film-makers. Good titles, nothing to say, but why the cinemas are always empty, despite a large promotional campaign? Iran is not one of the most important countries in Middle East in film culture? Why am I here? It's because I made a documentary talking about the palestinian resistance? What kind of resistance we are talking about? Is resistance the struggle of a country against the oppression of another country? But why it's not resistance also the struggle of a people against its own State oppression? Why it's not resistance also the struggle of a people against its own regime? It's because "resistance" is a convenient word when you are the oppressed and not when you are the oppressor? Why in the festival there's neither a minute of footage, a word, about the resistance of the young Iranians in the street 1 year ago fighting for more transparence in elections, against what was nearly certainly a big fraud in the elections, against an unilateral and theocratic regime?
These were my questions. But one was the worst: why am I here? I mean, how should I share the stage with other supporters of the palestinian cause who can not see how their "resistance" became "status", became "establishment", became "oppression"?
I know, it's not enough my answer, but here it is: because it was an easy way and excuse to come to Tehran and see with my eyes.
This trip reminds me summer 2001 in Algeria, guest of an international student festival, talking about socialism, justice and equality, while the young Algerians in Kabylia were dying under the fire of the "Gendarmerie". This time, at least, I don't need to escape. Just leave the room in the hotel and wait for Farhad to come and pick me up. Farhad is a photographer, he worked for many independent newspapers and magazines, but since a few weeks before the last elections, his work is over, because from then the government closed all the independent press media in Iran. So he had to start working as industrial photographer, advertisements and weddings. But of course he was always in the streets during the demonstrations of the "green movement" and he took lots of pictures and videos. His work is all copyleft, hundreds of newspapers could use his work for free. He just stayed 2 months out of Tehran after the peak of fighting, as precaution: special police could be after him. Moreover, many of his friends ended up in prison, many more had to leave Iran. Nobody knows exactly, because the government never has given numbers about those in jail and refuses to see a case behind what it is happening, but they esteem that around 800 people are in this moment in jail in Iran as members of the "green movement", that means: they are in jail just because they organized and took part in the demonstrations. Among them, many are lawyers who were working on the case of these imprisoned young activists, so that now it's really hard to understand how many are in jail, what can be the sentence, in which prison they are and how long they will stay in.
So, let me say one thing. The world collected signatures to save the life of Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtiani, a 43 Iranian years old woman supposedly sentenced to death because of adultery first, but then they said for the killing of her husband. Anyway, her death had to come by stoning. Still now nothing is clear about what will happen, but any of the possibilities are human crimes, since death penalty is a human crime however and even when US are doing it. The world is on the move to save her life. That's right. But no one is collecting signatures for the political prisoners in Iran (because that's how we should call all these guys ended in jail after demonstrating). So, what is the message that the islamophobic Europe wants to spread? I guess this is the hidden message: we must save Iranians from themselves, we must stop the barbarism of these countries, we enlightened people can't accept these things, we must demand that our higher principles prevail over an undeveloped society. What a shame! I do believe that Iranians are good enough to develop their governmental structures, given that the rest of the world will not look elsewhere anytime this current regime is shutting the voice of dissidents. Some say, even in Iran: foreign countries should not support the Iranian protests, because this will offer an excuse to the government for accusing opposition to make the interests of the enemies and also for being traitors. Eh? What is that? First of all, international solidarity doesn't mean foreign countries, but people of the world. Then, it's true, foreign countries should not interfere, but not before demanding to know wether from now onward they will deal with politicians in representation of a free people or members of a consolidate regime, which changes the type of relations, or might change. So, I don't understand this remark. But understand quite well what the Sakineh's case means to Europe: cleaning hands. And, let me say, the Iranian government is not that sad for the international case built up by "european intellectuals" for the poor woman of an Iranian village, it helps to distract international attention from more serious matters.
Anyway, Farhad is a gate to the underground hidden Tehran. Which is another city. In these days I learnt to think that there are 3 different Irans in the world: one in the streets, one in the houses and one abroad. This last one is scattered all over the world in small pieces, the other 2 are living side by side. In the streets women must wear headscarf, even if they are not Iranians. At home they don't have and most of them don't wear. In the streets people don't drink alcohol, even they don't speak about it. At home, many of them, if brave enough, they do drink. Yes, because drinking alcohol in Iran can bring to jail and sometimes police simply rushes in the houses during parties to check what drinks are on the table and what your breath is stinking. So tells me Mehran, he was dancing during a private party, then somebody knocked at the door and in a few seconds a gun was targeting on him. Everybody in the house tried to reach a piece of watermelon, which refreshes breath they say, but most of them ended up in prison anyway and stayed a few days. But this is just an old memory for Mehran, now he lives in Edinburgh, he just came back for holidays, but he always dreams to come back one day.
If then you produce wine or spirits and they discover you? What happens? I ask Amin and Sima while they are carrying up by the stairs of their building at night 10 demijohns of must.
This trip reminds me summer 2001 in Algeria, guest of an international student festival, talking about socialism, justice and equality, while the young Algerians in Kabylia were dying under the fire of the "Gendarmerie". This time, at least, I don't need to escape. Just leave the room in the hotel and wait for Farhad to come and pick me up. Farhad is a photographer, he worked for many independent newspapers and magazines, but since a few weeks before the last elections, his work is over, because from then the government closed all the independent press media in Iran. So he had to start working as industrial photographer, advertisements and weddings. But of course he was always in the streets during the demonstrations of the "green movement" and he took lots of pictures and videos. His work is all copyleft, hundreds of newspapers could use his work for free. He just stayed 2 months out of Tehran after the peak of fighting, as precaution: special police could be after him. Moreover, many of his friends ended up in prison, many more had to leave Iran. Nobody knows exactly, because the government never has given numbers about those in jail and refuses to see a case behind what it is happening, but they esteem that around 800 people are in this moment in jail in Iran as members of the "green movement", that means: they are in jail just because they organized and took part in the demonstrations. Among them, many are lawyers who were working on the case of these imprisoned young activists, so that now it's really hard to understand how many are in jail, what can be the sentence, in which prison they are and how long they will stay in.
So, let me say one thing. The world collected signatures to save the life of Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtiani, a 43 Iranian years old woman supposedly sentenced to death because of adultery first, but then they said for the killing of her husband. Anyway, her death had to come by stoning. Still now nothing is clear about what will happen, but any of the possibilities are human crimes, since death penalty is a human crime however and even when US are doing it. The world is on the move to save her life. That's right. But no one is collecting signatures for the political prisoners in Iran (because that's how we should call all these guys ended in jail after demonstrating). So, what is the message that the islamophobic Europe wants to spread? I guess this is the hidden message: we must save Iranians from themselves, we must stop the barbarism of these countries, we enlightened people can't accept these things, we must demand that our higher principles prevail over an undeveloped society. What a shame! I do believe that Iranians are good enough to develop their governmental structures, given that the rest of the world will not look elsewhere anytime this current regime is shutting the voice of dissidents. Some say, even in Iran: foreign countries should not support the Iranian protests, because this will offer an excuse to the government for accusing opposition to make the interests of the enemies and also for being traitors. Eh? What is that? First of all, international solidarity doesn't mean foreign countries, but people of the world. Then, it's true, foreign countries should not interfere, but not before demanding to know wether from now onward they will deal with politicians in representation of a free people or members of a consolidate regime, which changes the type of relations, or might change. So, I don't understand this remark. But understand quite well what the Sakineh's case means to Europe: cleaning hands. And, let me say, the Iranian government is not that sad for the international case built up by "european intellectuals" for the poor woman of an Iranian village, it helps to distract international attention from more serious matters.
Anyway, Farhad is a gate to the underground hidden Tehran. Which is another city. In these days I learnt to think that there are 3 different Irans in the world: one in the streets, one in the houses and one abroad. This last one is scattered all over the world in small pieces, the other 2 are living side by side. In the streets women must wear headscarf, even if they are not Iranians. At home they don't have and most of them don't wear. In the streets people don't drink alcohol, even they don't speak about it. At home, many of them, if brave enough, they do drink. Yes, because drinking alcohol in Iran can bring to jail and sometimes police simply rushes in the houses during parties to check what drinks are on the table and what your breath is stinking. So tells me Mehran, he was dancing during a private party, then somebody knocked at the door and in a few seconds a gun was targeting on him. Everybody in the house tried to reach a piece of watermelon, which refreshes breath they say, but most of them ended up in prison anyway and stayed a few days. But this is just an old memory for Mehran, now he lives in Edinburgh, he just came back for holidays, but he always dreams to come back one day.
If then you produce wine or spirits and they discover you? What happens? I ask Amin and Sima while they are carrying up by the stairs of their building at night 10 demijohns of must.
<<You will be lashed>>.
<<Ah, and you are not scared?>>, I ask again while helping them.
<<Possible, but this is our resistance>>.
In Iran women can not sing alone. If you happen to listen to any Iranian singer woman singing alone, it means she is not living in Iran. Why women can not sing alone?
In Iran women can not sing alone. If you happen to listen to any Iranian singer woman singing alone, it means she is not living in Iran. Why women can not sing alone?
<<Because it's too much sensual and provocative>>, answers to me Soosan.
<<Too much?>>, I say. And again: <<So, you want to tell me that if I hear a voice of a woman singing, this is too much provocative for me and then, what should I do? Lose my control for it and become a kind of lycanthrope? Leave to stop me and assault a woman? Really am I such a dangerous man? Are Iranians such dangerous men?>>.
<<Well, that's the point>>, answers Soosan: <<I believe this law is more demeaning for men than for women, by this law men are treated as animals not as human beings>>.
One night a theater director, Aidin, told me:
One night a theater director, Aidin, told me:
<<Look, I lived abroad for a long time. Then I came back. Look at me, I am almost 60 years old. I learnt my art abroad and I lived my life. But then I came back here, this is my country. But it's not the seventies now. It's no more time to fight and go to jail for me. There's no need. And let me say: we are more important out of jail but still in Iran. Everybody must give his little help to save this country from a medieval regression, from an absolutist regime. But we must be an example for those young who never had seen nothing but this. That's why I prefer fight my way with the censorship, like in the ancient times. I work like the men from the establishment can not censor my works, I speak about epical themes, I try to teach good principles>>.
This is not the case of Shahab, he is a scriptwriter. He wrote a story imagining that the minister of internal affairs is kidnapped after the last elections and people ask him to say where their votes ended. His work was censored and never will be performed until this regime will last, no way:
This is not the case of Shahab, he is a scriptwriter. He wrote a story imagining that the minister of internal affairs is kidnapped after the last elections and people ask him to say where their votes ended. His work was censored and never will be performed until this regime will last, no way:
<<You are right, it was obvious that my work had to be censored. But I don't care, I am young, I think somebody should write this kind of stories now, we are witnesses of our time, we must not have fear all the times. One day maybe my works will be performed openly in Iran, when everything will change>>.
There's a place in Tehran where all the free artists use to gather, it's a small cafe in a park. Another artist I met told me:
There's a place in Tehran where all the free artists use to gather, it's a small cafe in a park. Another artist I met told me:
<<You can't even perform texts of the past talking about regimes, for examples the russian theater productions of the '800. Yeah, they don't like when you try to speak about them>>. And I:
<<What? But this way it's like they admit to be a regime..>>.
<<Of course, what do you think? They know it very well>>.
But don't ask one of these people to release any interview. It's too dangerous.
But don't ask one of these people to release any interview. It's too dangerous.
<<To give my name in an interview with a foreign journalist means to go to prison for me>>, everybody says.
<<But I am not a journalist, I am blogger and a free citizen, I just want to write about Tehran stories>>.
<<This is your problem, not mine>>, they say. <<In this case, you will also go to prison, you are just a tourist, you can not make questions to locals and above all tell others abroad what the locals told you. Want to be a spy?>>. And I again:
<<A spy? Come on!>>.
It seems it's not a good moment to make interviews in Tehran, now. What had to be said is already said and those who had to pay for saying this are already paying or have payed. And nobody wants to pay more for saying what was already said. If the world could hear enough, it's hard to say, anyway.
Farhad still shows us the pictures he took during the demonstrations. In one of these I can recognize 2 activists:
It seems it's not a good moment to make interviews in Tehran, now. What had to be said is already said and those who had to pay for saying this are already paying or have payed. And nobody wants to pay more for saying what was already said. If the world could hear enough, it's hard to say, anyway.
Farhad still shows us the pictures he took during the demonstrations. In one of these I can recognize 2 activists:
<<Hey, but these are your mother and father!>>. He smiles, his mother is here with us, she also smiles.
<<We all stood up to ask where are our votes. The Iranian people were in the streets>>.
He invites us for a ride on his car. He is impatient.
He invites us for a ride on his car. He is impatient.
<<Tonight a great thing will happen in Tehran, we must run>>.
<<Really? What happens?>>.
<<Come you will see>>.
Ilaria and I get in the car, she is not used yet with the headscarf and she is still adjusting it on her head. But she learnt to accept it as a battle tool. Yes, the head of women is a battle ground, here in Iran. You must learn how to put it, leaving it on the head but showing more centimeters of hair anytime. It's an art. Every centimeter of hair is a step toward freedom.
<<Where are we going, Farhad?>>. He drives fast but doesn't answer. Now he turns in a street, slows down, turns the engine off, the rear is neutral, the car goes slowly, he says:
Ilaria and I get in the car, she is not used yet with the headscarf and she is still adjusting it on her head. But she learnt to accept it as a battle tool. Yes, the head of women is a battle ground, here in Iran. You must learn how to put it, leaving it on the head but showing more centimeters of hair anytime. It's an art. Every centimeter of hair is a step toward freedom.
<<Where are we going, Farhad?>>. He drives fast but doesn't answer. Now he turns in a street, slows down, turns the engine off, the rear is neutral, the car goes slowly, he says:
<<Listen, can you hear it?>>. It's like an echo.
<<What is that?>>, I ask.
<<It's a wave of voices. These are the voices of Tehran>>.
<<It seems shoutings>>.
<<Yes, they are shouting from the roof of their buildings>>.
<<But what are they saying?>>, asks Ilaria astonished like me.
<<Marg bar, diktator!>>. Which means: "Down the dictator!". How it is possible?
<<It was common in the period after elections to gather at night on the roofs and start shouting. Now it was a long time since we it didn't happen. But tonight I received a message through which we decided tonight to do it again, protesting for the home detention of Mousavi. He can not leave his house, nobody can go and visit him. What is his fault? He tried to run against Ahmadinejad, against the establishment and he could take the majority of the votes. This was unacceptable for the regime. He is not my favorite politician, but when all the others were banned by the Supreme Council of Revolution, I voted for him. Now, more than 1 year later, I still don't know where is my vote>>.
Regimes often fall just because the rope which holds them breaks. And sometimes it's only a tiny wire of rope that still holds them. Everything seems like always, but you can be just a second before the rope breaks. I wish you this, dear Farhad. He still drives with the head out of his car window to hear Tehran night voices. His heart is full of joy. The city is murmuring, the green wave is still rolling, the satraps tonight will hear these thousands Iranians in the shadow demanding their vote, their right to change. A hidden country will shout its strangled cry. The satraps will not sleep tonight.
Regimes often fall just because the rope which holds them breaks. And sometimes it's only a tiny wire of rope that still holds them. Everything seems like always, but you can be just a second before the rope breaks. I wish you this, dear Farhad. He still drives with the head out of his car window to hear Tehran night voices. His heart is full of joy. The city is murmuring, the green wave is still rolling, the satraps tonight will hear these thousands Iranians in the shadow demanding their vote, their right to change. A hidden country will shout its strangled cry. The satraps will not sleep tonight.
Leaving Istanbul, crossing the bridge on the Bosphorus.
Our bus: "My god, help me". Is it clear?
Dear Ilaria, the first headscarf you'll never forget. Just before the border.
Crossing the border by foot with our travelmates.
Arrival in Tehran.
So, why the most beautiful Iranian movies are banned and directors in jail or forced to leave the country?
Here above the festival.
In the national museum in Tehran, a warm welcome for the foreigners.
A funny taxi-driver..
At theater.
Ilaria supporting the Iranian volleyball team against the Italian one. Hard match..
Here above, Azadi square.
Here above heroes and propaganda. This last praises the young martyrs. Terrible!
Here above Tehran headscarves. In the last picture a kind of black butterfly.
Leaving Tehran.
North of Iran.
Back in Turkey. The poster says: "Motherland is thankful to you. A great army, a great Turkey". Kind of border propaganda. Men!
A check-point of "Jandarma" near the border looking for Kurdish "terrorists".
The dawn, back on the Bosphorus.
A hostile welcome from this cat. Sure?
No, he's not aggressive, come on..
..probably he was just yawning. Look at him, he is so sweet, sleeping in my bag..
