june 26th 2009

it is so beautiful to see Iranians all around the world uniting with protests and vigils in support of the protesters of Iran and in remembrance of those who died. I just got back from one in portland. there was a funeral procession with coffins for those who have died followed by 15 minutes of silence where 100’s of portland Iranians were sitting with their hands holding the peace sign. it was so beautiful. then they played Joan Baez’s song for the Iranian people, “We Shall Overcome” with words in Farsi. it made me cry. this was followed by old nationalistic Iranian songs. at that point my tears were like rivers. these songs are so touching because they are about the country of iran minus politics and religion. in our hearts iran is not about these things. it might be hard to convey this idea to americans because the US is such a young country whose history and image has in a way been defined by its politics. but for Iranians, the name of our home country, ‘vatan’, conjures up a rich history and civilization. It brings the beautiful poetry of Rumi, Hafez, Sadi, it brings the scent of tea, roses, and jasmine flowers, it brings memories of sitting by the caspian sea with your family, it brings the songs of the famous singers–Heideh, Vigen, Dariush, it brings the sound of the tombak and setar. every single iranian at these protests has so much love for iran. i have said before how Iran gets likened to a beautiful woman, so endearing and easily able to sit in your heart. she is the loving mother that is always so respected. but in the last 30 years, another metaphor is used more frequently–that of a caged bird that tries to sing but only cries.

things have changed these past 2 weeks in iran but they have also changed outside of iran. because of the courage of the protesters in Iran, we Iranians on the outside are once again proud to call ourselves Iranian. we have come together, united with one cause. yes, now there is a lot of debate about whether this is about a re-election or about regime change. but we all want a change in iran. we want to love all the aspects of our country and love it in the present. we don’t want to only love and talk about iran in the past tense.

ps-no news about anything since june 24th

June 25th 2009

There seems to have been some protests today in Tehran and other cities namely Kermanshah, Shiraz, Esfahan. But with extremely heavy riot police and basij presence, gathering was almost non-existent. also, anyone seen filming is arrested immediately. i saw one video where the young man was pretending to talk on his cell phone while he was using it to film the rows of police lining the streets. So basically the situation is like this– all foreign media have been expelled, avenues of communication for Iranian citizens have been diminished, their cameras and phones have been confiscated,the outbreak has been blamed on foreign influences, violence has been denied by the government, protests have been completely squashed, and fear has been instilled into the hearts of all the people. All the while, Iranian TV shows blockbuster movies including the entire Lord of the Rings Trilogy. There must be some authoritarian manifesto that outlines the steps to suppress opposition from your own people. And I am sure that all world leaders have read it.

I am trying hard to not give up hope but it really looks like the government is wining. They are forcing silence and its heaviness is too difficult for the people to lift off. It is starting to suffocate them. But I am still praying. Just as the events of the past 2 weeks have been a result of 30 years of repressed anger and disgruntlement, this energy will keep building and keep exploding.  I know that the people will not give up. It is not in our blood to give up. But sometimes people get tired.

I would like to share a statement from Tehranbureau.com

Tehran June 24th

“Last week, a group of friends and I organized a medical team to help the wounded and injured in the streets. As we sewed up gashes and patched up wounds on the beautiful battered faces of our dear Iranians, we kept asking ourselves, ‘What have they become? Have they no regard for the life for a fellow human being? For the life of a fellow countryman? For the life of a neighbor? For the life of a cousin? For the life of a brother? For the life of a sister?’

It wasn’t long before Basij militiamen took away our identity cards. After reporting us to the university, I was called in by a disciplinary committee and reprimanded. I was told I had put my future career and even my life in jeopardy. I was told to think about the consequences of my actions.

As I left the committee members, the events of the past two weeks fell into place:

The government had a plan. They thought their plan was perfect. They had devised a perfect fraud in which regardless of how people voted, only one name would emerge as the winner: Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

It was to be the start of an era of unopposed rule.

By creating the appearance of a free and open atmosphere, by creating hope of change, people would turnout in high numbers. A high turnout at the ballot boxes would give them an aura of legitimacy in the eyes of the world. It would give Ahmadinejad a mandate.

But they made a fatal miscalculation; they underestimated the people.

When the results were announced, nobody in their right mind believed them. Even the most optimistic of Ahmadinejad supporters didn’t believe he could win by such a margin.

This prompted widespread unrest. For the first time in the history of the Islamic Republic the ruling establishment had to contend with masses in the streets. These masses had not been dragged there by intimidation or by promise of a reward. For the first time the masses were not chanting pro-government slogans.

This was something entirely new; it was a nation rising up in defiance of all the tricks the government has been pulling over the years.

Despite their miscalculation, the supreme leader and the revolutionary guard elites were not ready to make any concessions; they knew too well. Even a single step back would have been a starting point from where things would cascade down to the eventual breakdown of their perfect autocracy.

So they took a firm stand against the very people who had brought them to power 30 years ago. History will be the judge but I believe that this was their second and most fatal miscalculation. You can never put out a fire by beating it, the flames may wane but underneath the ashes will go on burning. Wheels have been set in motion. A vast movement has started to take place. In time, the tide will turn.

In February 1979, during the time of the revolution, the army chiefs decided to prevent bloodshed and a civil war, so they refused to crack down on the demonstrators. They were thanked for this by swift executions that took place as soon as the revolutionaries came to power.

Sepah, or the Revolutionary Guard, is apparently determined not to go down the same path.

The decision of the current government to brutally crack down on the protesters and demonstrators led to the massacre of June 20, 2009, a day that will go down in history as the Black Saturday of the Islamic Republic. Thirty years ago, 17 Shahrivar 1357 [September 8, 1978], the Pahlavi Regime made the same fatal mistake. That Black Friday was the turning point from which the Pahlavi Regime never recovered.

We had hoped for a swift and decisive victory, first in the election and then through our defiance, but our high hopes were crushed with bullets, batons and tear gas. Now the mood is that of defeat, anguish and despair.

Fear has crept in and taken hold. Everybody now speaks in whispers. We are depressed and hopeless. Perhaps the main reason everyone feels so down is that before the election we had such high hopes. We flew too high and then fell down or rather were brought down by Basij and anti-riot police.

This struggle has had its toll on us all. I have never seen so many people grieving. This is a social malaise. At the personal level, each of us still feels robbed of our vote, our freedom, our friends, our brothers and our sisters.

We are disillusioned, battered and betrayed. Many are talking about leaving the country. Many young souls are looking for the first exit. Emigration perhaps. A mass exodus may be under way.

In the past few days, I have been feeling down and depressed. I had a sense that all was lost, and the frequent rains, which are extremely unusual for this time of year, added to the sense of melancholy overcoming me. My uncle, who experienced the revolution, told me however, “Evolution takes time. This was just a start; in time things will change.”

I hope so.

Politics and power are dirty things, much more so than depicted by Romain Gary in ‘L’Homme a la colombe.’ Even so, the protagonist, also a young soul, emerges victorious. We are sacrificing ourselves to make a statement, which the corrupt politicians ignore and the mass media manipulates. But people, generation after generation, pass this on from heart to heart as a slogan for integrity, bravery and freedom.

Maybe this will be our legacy. Maybe years from now, we will recount the stories of these days to the generation after us as the turning point that made all the difference, if not in our lives, perhaps at least in theirs.”

June 24th in Tehran

foreign involvement in Iran does not sit well with the Iranian people. The first half of the 1900’s saw a lot of resentment against British control of Iran’s oil production. Britian formed the Anglo-Persian Oil Company (APOC) where Iran was only entitled to 16% of the profits.Not only was Britian controlling Iranian oil, but they were strongly influential in the politics and internal affairs. They were responsible for taking the king, Reza Shah, out of power and replacing him with his more agreeable and less nationalistically minded son, Reza Pahlavi. Then came the British and American involvement of the overthrow of the icon of Iranian nationalism, Mossadegh. This overthrow is widely recognized as the CIA’s first attempt to overthrow a foreign leader. The reason for Mossadegh’s overthrow? When the APOC (which had then changed to the AIOC Aglo-Iranian Oil Company) refused Mossadegh’s negotiation of dividing the profits 50/50, he became the leader in forming the National Iranian Oil Company (NIOC). This would have made the oil company strictly run and owned by Iranians. The meddling of Britian and America continued through the decades that followed, where the Shah (Reza Pahlavi) followed in his father’s footsteps by modernizing Iran through opening it up to the west. Events surrounding the revolution of 1978 are still unclear but it is well known in Iranian circles that foreign forces were involved, whether American or Soviet. Something that IS clear is that the Shah refused Carter’s 50 year contract of selling Iranian oil at $8 a barrel and Carter had a idea in place called the “Green Belt” which called for a line of religious governments in the Middle East to ward off Soviet communism. Whatever the case, most of the 1900’s saw a lot of foreign involvement because of Iran’s hot commodity, oil, and it has been well noticed by the Iranian people. So what happens now? Many are disheartened with Obama’s speech yesterday, wanting him to take real action. But this is a delicate situation. On one hand you have a population that is tired of foreign meddling but wants to see real change and on the other hand you have a country, America, that is dependent on Iranian support to bring stability to the region and does not want to rock the boat any further. Of course there is so much more happening behind the scenes with the split between Obama and the right’s adamant push for tough action. Will this just die down or will something really change? As much as i wish i could say it is up to the people, i have to admit that even now it is still in the hands of foreign powers.

here is something from a resident in Tehran from june 24th

Were there strikes in Tehran yesterday?

“People are going to work. No one has asked the people to stay at home. No one has called for a strike. Mousavi has not asked people to do this. In fact, I was at Tehran’s Grand Bazaar yesterday. I spoke to many of the merchants. I told them I heard there was a strike today but you’ve all showed up to work. As one of them said, “Lady, I voted for Mousavi. If Mousavi asks us to go on strike, I will. But who will pay my bills?”

I also spoke to a restaurant worker yesterday. He said he also voted for Mousavi. He said if I don’t work for a week, I have nothing to live on the week after. I have no way to feed my wife and kids.

But strikes could happen. The mood is tense and the environment for strikes is actually there. There is a lot of talk about it. Everyone is discussing the possibility of strikes. But so far no one has gone on strike. The banks are open for business. All the stores in the Bazaar were open.

I’m looking over Modares Avenue. Traffic is as normal as ever.

One thing Mousavi has asked people to do however is to turn up on their rooftops at 10 pm and shout “Allah o Akbar” [God is Great]. And this does take place. It takes place in full force from about 10 to 10:30 or 10:45 every night. No matter what neighborhood you’re in Tehran, you will hear this.

People have started to scribble slogans on money that is passed around. On one bill I got yesterday someone had written “Where is my vote?”

If people are not turning up in the streets to protest, they are finding other ways to engage in civil disobedience. On Monday, for example, Mousavi had asked people to turn on their headlights in the street from 5 to 6 pm.

But this demonstration that was supposed to take place in Baherestaan was not called for by Mousavi. I don’t know if people turned out, or how many; I wasn’t there. But those things generally tend to have a life of their own. Those demonstrators are not waiting to hear from Mousavi.

Those who are middle aged are taking this a lot better than we are. They have been through something like this before (1978-79) and have a lot of patience. They are hopeful about all this. My generation is glum. They’re depressed. There is so much crying.

I wish there was a way the world could do more. Even embassies like the Italian one, which tried to open its doors and take in those who were injured, was stopped from doing so by the police here.

I can’t talk anymore. Bye.”

_________________________________________________________

UPDATE FROM RESIDENTS WHO LIVE NEAR PARLIAMENT/MAJLIS BUILDING IN BAHARESTAN

“I just talked to [X, Y, Z].  They told me about the demonstrations in front of the Majles. They are right behind Majles on Iran street. They said that a huge crowd is there.”

From Tehran, 24 June 2009

“Just to let you all know, R. was arrested last night in Tehran; I’m not sure where and why. I got a call from his phone by the police who wanted me to confirm details. I had to tell them how long we’d lived in [here], how we met, what he and I do for work, where I work, my nationality, about his family and also where I live. He was carrying his laptop, external HD and camera so I’m guessing he’s having that looked though. They told me he’d be released any minute now last night. I doubt that.”

june 22nd protest videos

here are 2 videos from the protest in Tehran at 7-tir square

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7BG4Fkm6Vk

and from protests from two other cities:

Babol june 22nd:

http://www.youtube.com/watch? v=AnxFiUlF9d8&NR=1

Kermanshah june 22nd:

http://www.bbc. co.uk/persian/ iran/2009/ 06/090623_ ir88_ugc_ vd_kermanshah. shtml

this is mostly for friends in iran to see that there are still protests happening in other cities. people in iran are so cut off from each other that it is interesting that we outside the country have a better idea of the big picture.

but i must sadly say that those in iran probably won’t be able to access these videos through these links. but i will try to figure out how i can put these videos in this post.

june 23rd

protests were non-existent, i believe. there has been very little word about anything going on today. it might be because a silent drape has been cast over tehran. phones, cameras, and the internet have lost their ammunition. it is getting more and more difficult to get word out of tehran. so it is hard to know or get images of what happened today, if anything at all. the government is getting really good at monitoring, blocking, and censoring. tomorrow begins the first of three days of mourning for the protesters that have died. that is such a beautiful part of persian culture-remembrance for the dead. but i wish that we had just as good of a memory for history. there are many facets to this comment but one of them is that what the people of iran are fighting for is not new. democracy would be a new occurrence but most of the freedoms that the people want are not new. they had them pre-1978. people could wear what they wanted, go to bars, dance and sing, hold hands, and most importantly be whatever religion they wanted. what was suppressed was political dissidence. that was one of the reasons for the Shah’s downfall. but thank goodness, the current regime does not remember that lesson. they are following the same path and hopefully it will lead to the same end-regime change. but as one of my friends from iran keeps saying is that things need to go slow so that the same mistakes are not repeated. yes, that will lead to more stability and less death, but the momentum for regime change is strong right now. instead of “allahu akbar” (god is great), “marg bar khamenei” (death to khamenei) can be heard from the rooftops at night. if things went slowly, then we all settle for reform within the current system. it is hard to say what the people really want. after 30 years of constriction, censorship, and religious and political propaganda, a lot of people have forgotten that they used to have different lives, that this way of government has not always been the way of governing iran, that this flag has not always been the iranian flag, that what they are fighting for is what they used to have.

but i pray the momentum stays strong. as my friend told me, “something changed last week.” that no matter what happens next, the people are different. what that really means we will have to see, but it is definitely a good thing.

here is an article written by an Israeli entitled “I never thought i’d be rooting for Iran”

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1093996.html

and here is something written from today:

Tehran resident, 23 June 2009

“[Translated] I access Facebook through Yahoo! Mexico. But everyone says that’s a trap set by authorities to identify us!!!!!

[X] quarrels with me all the time. He keeps imploring me not to go on the internet. They even say the phones are monitored!!!

I’m so frightened I changed my [online] name today.

I don’t know why. Other than vote for Mousavi I’ve never engaged in a political activity in my entire life. But this is no comfort because [X]’s poor colleague was shot in the eye with a rubber bullet while driving through Vanak Square. After two operations, he’s blind in one eye!!!!!!!!

They picked up someone else too. Two days after his disappearance they released him near Shahreh Rey with his eyes blindfolded and his mouth gagged.

Neither guy attended demonstrations! Plus, they say those who come to these protests are MKO [mujahedin] members [terrorists]!!!!! Not to mention 100 other insults!

What had this poor woman Neda done that they wouldn’t allow any mosque to hold ceremonies for her — come on, wasn’t she Muslim?

Anyway, things here are REALLY bad here. We’re all scared to death.

Something has to change. We can’t go living like this.”

:( more from June 22nd

Update: Monday 8 pm Tehran time

Tehran resident: I am just back from 7 tir square where there was supposed to be a memorial for the 7th day of the martyrs.

Drove down there at 4 ish. there were a lot of people in the square, but no one allowed to gather, so people were just walking up and down the meydoon [square]. there was a HEAVY military presence — all kinds, basij, riot police, khahki [camouflage] uniformed ones — all on motorbikes, or in pick up trucks or standing — they ALL had those batons and weren’t allowing people to stand still [ie. gather]. we walked around and tried to have a look from those walkways that cover the meydoon [square] but the police were also on them so wouldn’t let u stand still for a second.

people were also gathering in the koocheh’s [alleyways] off the side of the square too see what was going to happen and if we could gather in one place. there was not just young people, but all kinds of age groups and people from all walks of life. then the police would start coming to an alley where a lot of people were and shout at them to move along/disperse. they would then get aggro and start chasing people down the alleyways, hitting with batons. people would run but then gather in another alleyway… very resilient.

we moved through the various  alleyways too until shouted at to leave. these police are very intimidating. like animals really as u just dont know if they are gonna wack you (which they would). i wanted to take photos of the military presence, but it was way too scary. honestly people who manage to record or take photos are incredibly shoja (brave). then we saw that they had blockaded one alleyway (koocheh mina) and people were getting trapped and beaten up with the batons. there were people on roofs/windows looking so i hope they managed to record some stuff. we moved around the meydoon and streets. after hearing/seeing that they were blockading people in alleys.

we decided it was safer to stay in the main square and move around. over the few hours it was getting busier with protesters, but i think they needed someone like mousavi or another figure so as to gather around him. it was v v difficult to gather.

then we moved to another side of the square and the police started chasing and tear gassing people — it really spreads… and though i wasn’t too close it went up my nose and had a strong burning/stinging sensation. people were now wearing those surgical masks but there eyes were all red. people were lighting cigarettes and blowing the smoke into peoples eyes as it helps get rid of the stinging. i gave several people cigarettes to help and blew smoke into a strangers faces to help them (something i would of course never do!!). then the police started chasing people down a street and smashing windows and following protesters into bldngs which was quite scary (no where is safe then).

we kept moving around the meydoon and streets, as were other people, which were definately in their thousands. people were breaking into sporadic chants of ‘allah akbars’ on the meydoon — which i managed to record.

then around 6 ish we were standing near an alley entrance and the police on motorbikes with batons started chasing us badly. we could only run up the street and they are chasing u on these bikes about 5/6 mtrs away shouting at u to disperse — it is absolutely petrifying. we were running on the sidewalk. they also had whips with them. there were so many of them just riding and shouting at you. then we heard shots and u just don’t know whether they are going to even shoot (as we know they have done before). i am not sure whether it was guns or firecrackers or what but at the time u all think is that it is guns, and that u are about to feel a bullet hit u in the back or something as u run. all i did was run with my hands clasped (like i was praying) and just trying to make eye contact with them so that they could see the sheer fear in my face! then a door opened in the street and some people were ushering us into their garden to hide in there in case the motor police guys came back (honestly there must have been like 50-70 of them chasing us).

we then hid in this grdn for a bit with like 20 or so other people but it really wasn’t the best idea. i thought as i had seen them go into people’s houses and smash doors etc minutes before and then there is no escape for u. so we waited like 10 mins and crept out. it was really quite scary. anyways. let us see what else comes out of the news this evening. i hope no one was killed but i do know pple were beaten up for sure.

also, on another note, i heard (god knows if it was true) that hashemi-rafsanjani has just come from qom with 40 signatures.

more from June 22nd Tehran

Dispatch from Tehran (22 June 2009) 2:45 pm:

“no protests [today] … streets dead … no one dares mess with sepah [IRGC] …

mobilization is the problem.  i’m sure if MILLIONS came out like they did last week, we would outnumber the forces and stand our ground… but with people retreating indoors, parents begging children not to go out, and no center-of-command to rally around, mobilization is virtually impossible…

moussavi had declared three days of public mourning for Saturday’s victims, so perhaps things will pick up after… they can’t keep up martial law indefinitely….

anyway, a lot of older people who lived thru 57 [1978-79 revolution] say this is not over.  they say the protests against the shah started in 42 and it took that many years for the people to topple him, and that today’s version will be quicker… back then there was only bbc radio; now there’s TV and internet and mobiles, so ultimately all this will come to fruition more rapidly …

the important thing is this election fiasco de-masked the IRI for what it truly is. it exposed the internal fissures as deep rifts. showed khameni is willing to kill rather than concede, or even to reform from within the system. flexed the sepah muscle, known to the outside world as a terrorist group, in turning against its own people. ahamdinejad’s reputation is shot to hell. so this was an earthquake really, after 30 long years of stagnation. and the effects won’t fade with a few thousand troops terrorizing the citizenry.”

____________________________________________________________

WATCH OUT!

police/basij are pulling cars over to inspect at checkpoints …
they will seize any cameras along with the owner’s ID card

pls be careful and keep your cameras at home — or well-hidden … !

Note from Tehran, 22 June 2009 (2 pm Eastern): They have cordened off about 20 metres of road in Vanak Square, I was there at 7pm tonight.  They are stopping and searching cars and peoples bags. They are taking peoples ID cards and cameras.

Note from Tehran, 22 June 2009 (8:00 am Eastern):

you cannot believe it. they have turned this place into a killing field. people are frightened to death here. they have gone quiet. the stores are closed.

there were plans to go and gather at 7 Tir [earlier today Tehran time] for that poor young woman Neda.

I’m going, but I’m scared. I may go quietly.

Sepah [IRGC] has announced it will crush us. they’re murderers.

But at night from 10 to 11 pm we all come out and say Allah o Akbar [God is Great] and Death to the Dictator [on the rooftops].

Please tell the world that we protesters are not terrorists [as reported by iranian state tv]. it’s the other way around: they’re terrorizing us!

A friend of mine in Iran said that the Iranian people stand alone. That is one of the saddest things I have heard. It is true. The whole world watches as they go into the streets with their flesh and bones as their weapons. The foreign governments keep a safe distance. This sounds like a familiar scenario-there have already been chants on the streets saying “Iran looks like Palestine.” But there is much much more news coverage of the streets of Iran than there ever have been of Palestine. Though the action is still the same, watching and waiting.

As we have seen, the Middle East is a very delicate and turbulent place with so many behind-the-scenes negotiations and relationships that it is very difficult to have a clear picture of the true intentions of any government. The people of Iran know that foreign governments only act according to their best intersts, but that is why there was the creation of the United Nations. It’s role is so uphold international dignity and enforce international law like the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, one of which is the freedom of assembly. As far as I know, they have not even made a statment about the use of violence on the protesters. How ironic is that this following poem by a famous Persian poet is written on entrance to the UN building

بنی آدم اعضای یک پیکرند
که در آفرينش ز یک گوهرند

چو عضوى به درد آورد روزگار
دگر عضوها را نماند قرار

تو کز محنت دیگران بی غمی
نشاید که نامت نهند آدمی

Human beings are members of a whole,

In creation of one essence and soul.

If one member is afflicted with pain,

Other members uneasy will remain.                                                                  If you have no sympathy for human pain,                                                     The name of human you cannot retain.

6/22/09

the protests usually start at four everyday usually in a certain square, but with communication heavily impeded, it is getting harder for people to gather. In Iran, text messages spread like rapid fire and people have the ability to send to large groups at once, like an email list. but this has been down for the last 10 days. it didn’t stop the movement in the beginning but now with so many leaders jailed and morale down, it is beginning to show its impact. so far, there is little about the events of today. it is still early, 8pm in tehran. but even if there are little people in streets, the masses of people chanting “Allahu Akbar (God is great)” from their rooftops into the middle of the night certainly makes the presence of the resistance known.

here are some updates from today:

Note from Tehran, 22 June 2009 (7:35 am Eastern):

today is quiet, there are police everywhere and basij patrolling the streets with batons. ‘Ma hamamoon boghz too galoomoon moonde’ (we all have lumps in our throats)

Note from Tehran, 22 June 2009 (7:30 am Eastern):

well today is confusing … some say the protest is in ferdowsi sq, some haft-e-tir, some abbas abad (a huge mosque) … it seems central org. is waning, maybe cz camp leaders are in jail? …….  anyway, [X] & i (along w my dad & [Y] & his friends) will go around 4 pm to check it out, see if theres any action … will report back to u ….. the rumor [about Rafsanjani] is he’s still in qom rallying support to “azl” khamenei (ask to step down) and do away with velayat-e-faqih as one person, instead make it a council, so to steer away from dictatorship potential by any one all-powerful figure …  i hope he’s making headway with the qom top brass! [please note: this has not been independently confirmed]

dige [what else] … dishab [last night] was a candlelight vigil in front of UN in pasdaran for Neda, the girl who got killed, … and some clashes in valiasr sq, reportedly non-violent …

the sms is still down cz they know the MOMENT its back on, ppl will organize HUGE protests again … tehran is so quiet, no traffic, ordinary life is at standstill, or barely crawling …

i hope protests dont die out … we’ve come too far to back down …. the only problem is mobilization is so weak …

6/21/09

Like most Iranians living outside of Iran, I am so moved by the events in Iran from the last week. I am completely glued to the internet, constantly searching for updates that are sent out sometimes hourly. I have been following the protests day by day, my heart completely in the streets with the people. One of the most beautiful things that i have seen come out of this is the unity among Iranians. When I read personal accounts of the protesters on the streets, one of the sentences that gets repeated over and over again is that “they are killing our children” or “our sisters and brothers.” People cry for the dying as if it was their own child. A very popular protest chant is “don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, we are all together.” When i first heard that, it brought tears to my eyes. Amidst all the horrors that the people are experiencing on the streets, they are keeping their trust in each other. People are saying how you can ask anyone for a ride anywhere, that people are all willing to take others to the protests even if they themselves don’t want to go. They are saying how people will leave the doors of their houses open so that protesters can seek refuge running from the police. there is a strong feeling of camaraderie. I would like to share a first hand account from a professor who was in the June 20th protest in Tehran

Tehran, Saturday june 20 2009 – 4.30 local time, Enghelab Street:

I meet with my students on Saturdays for a private class. We cook and eat together, then talk of philosophy. This time there is no class. We only try to keep up our morale. We are very determined but scared. That is how I can describe most of the people who came out to attend the demonstration today. After the Supreme Leader’s fierce speech at the Friday prayers, we knew that today we would be different. We feel so vulnerable, more than ever, but at the same time are aware of our power. No matter how strong it is collectively, it will do little to protect us today. We could only take our bones and flesh to the streets and expose them to batons and bullets. Two different feelings fight inside me without mixing with one another. To live or to just be alive, that’s the question.

There is another student who would have her lunch with us, but is not coming to the demonstration. She’s too scared and while pretending to be in control bursts into tears. She says she hates to see people suffer. We tell here we have suffered for years. She says she doesn’t want people to die. I tell her tens of thousands die each year on the roads in Iran, at least this time it would be for a good cause. She says we are elites and can save ourselves for better times when we can be more useful. We reply there is no difference between people when we are all in such a condition.

We finish the lunch and sit to read poems of Mirzadeh Eshgi. That’s what I suggest. He was a revolutionary anarchist at the time of Constitutional Revolution 1906-11, killed for speaking out. It fits our situation. Poems play an important role here. Nothing influences Iranians like poetry. And these days, everything is about influence and fear.

The poems we read are bitter, ironical and they make us laugh. When sorrow is more than you can tolerate, you burst into laughter. Then we get going. It’s a quarter to four. But the following hour proves funnier than we expected.

In the bus everybody is going to the same place. All the streets to Enghlab Square are blocked. Guards tell you where to go and where not to go. They show us a small street that leads to Enghlab. I panic: Why have they left it open? Do they want us to go in and surround us? Two demonstrations were taking place, one in Enghelab and the other in Azadi, respectively meaning, ‘revolution’ and ‘freedom’. I tell my students, ‘We’re recycling the names.’

Enghlab is busy, very busy, but there is no demonstration. People show the V sign with their fingers but walk in silence. In front of Tehran University, I see the students inside, clutching the rails of the gates, as if behind bars. They shout. But I can’t hear them. In front of the students on the sidewalk, on the other side of the bars, there are two rows of anti-riot police and a row of Basij militia holding posters insulting the demonstrators of the previous days. One says, ‘The trouble-makers pertain to MI6’. An hour later, when the street is no longer so crowded, I go to the guy holding the poster and ask him, ‘What is MI6?’ ‘Britain’s intelligent service’, he replies. ‘Is it different from Scotland Yard?’ I ask. ‘No, they’re the same thing.’ ‘Oh, I see.’

We walk up and down. We’re a group of four. We find friends, but don’t join them. We don’t want to change the mood by changing our companionship. We’re enjoying ourselves.

Then comes the attraction of the day. Two water-spraying machines. They’re huge, the size of a bus but taller, with fenced windows and two water-guns on top of each. We burst into laughter. They don’t know how to use them. They shoot second floor windows, anti-riot police and the people, including girls in tight manteaus. It’s more Zurich than Tehran. One machine is stuck. They don’t know how to drive it. It’s a hot day, the sun is intolerably shiny and it feels good to become wet. Much of the time, the sprays are not powerful. It’s as if they’re watering grass. And it just does not fit the horror that’s in the air, the aggression with which the people are hit with batons. A beautiful day. It has been beautiful throughout the past week. You wonder whether nature is ironical.

They push the crowd back and forth, from here to there but soon realize people are on all sides. We hear bullets, but people don’t rush away. They’re fake. Nobody’s shot.

Then in a couple of minutes, the street is not crowded as before, the anti-riot police leave, and the students are gone. We don’t understand why. Deprived of communication, you never get the big picture. Maybe they have attacked the university from the back.

We hear in Azadi Square there’s a huge crowd. So we get going. As we pass the fences, a student, his face covered, smiles bitterly, ‘They’ll storm the dormitory tonight.’

We have to walk. We feel awful. There’s a demonstration somewhere and we can’t get there. We wish we were in a crowd. That’s the only way we feel better. We have joked for hours now, but we need to shout. Something is pressing from within.

Then at Towhid Square the scene changes drastically. The streets to Azadi are blocked. But this time, people don’t change their path. They fight for it. There’s a shower of stones. Tear gas. Fire. People jam the sidewalks. The battle scene is huge. We cannot see the limits but it extends to nearby street. My student is keener to go forward than I am. Her mother could persuade her to stay home for two days, but now allows her to go out on the most dangerous day. The people shout, ‘Down with the dictator’. The anti-riot police are also throwing stones. People don’t run back anymore. I grab a broken brick and throw. I’m amazed. I never thought I’d do it. I should practice. It was a very bad shot. I grab another one, the size of a pomegranate and keep it with me, hiding it behind my back. My feeling is a mixture of a university teacher and a hooligan.

If we want to go forward we need to pass through tear gas. So we ask a car to give us a lift. Then there is an attack. They cannot tell enemy from other people although they want to show everything is fine and they’re only after trouble-makers. There is a woman who is being beaten. She’s horrified and hysterical but not as much as the anti-riot police officer facing her. She shrieks, ‘Where can I go? You tell me go down the street and you beat me. Then you come up from the other side and beat me again. Where can I go?’ In sheer desperation, the officer hits his helmet several times hard with his baton. ‘Damn me! Damn me! What the hell do I know!’

I ask myself, ‘how much longer can these officers tolerate stress? How many among them would be willing to give their lives for somebody like Ahmadinejhad?’

The driver tells us that he did not vote but he has come out to the streets to beat the Basijis. At each intersection he is guided by officers in a different direction and after a while we realize we are back where we started. We see officers load people in a van used for carrying frozen meat. Then a couple of minutes later, a new scene unfolds. We get out. Here’s a true battleground. And this time it’s huge. Columns of smoke rise to the sky. You can hardly see the asphalt. Only bricks and stones. Here people have the upper hand. Three lanes, the middle one separated by opaque fences, under construction for the metro. The workers have climbed up the fences and show the V sign. They start throwing stone and timber to the street to supply the armament. I tell myself, ‘Look at the poor, the ones Ahmadinejhad always speaks of.’ But the president’s name is no longer in fashion. This time the slogans address the leader, something unheard of in the past three decades. It’s a beautiful sunset, with rays of light penetrating evening clouds. We feel safe among people moving back forth with the anti-riot police attacks.

Two Basiji motorcyles are burning. People have learnt how to do it fast. They lay the motorcycle on its side, spilling the gasoline and lighting it on fire. We climb up a pedestrian bridge and watch. People shout from the bridge, ‘Down with Khamenei’ and ‘your aura is gone for good’. A Basiji is caught: He soon disappears under the crowd beating him. As if in a roman coliseum those on the bridge shout, ‘Beat him up!’ I shout with them before coming to my senses. What is with me? He staggers away as a group of ten people kick and punch him.

At Gisha, there’s a similar scene. Again the people have the whole crossing in their control and you can hear the uproar and horns. Motorcycles are burning in smoke. But I’m suddenly stunned. I see a red object, which later proves to be a man, about 50, his head covered with blood, crouching, people passing him by as if he was a garbage can. Then comes a guy with a long stick who wants to beat up the already beaten Basiji. People gather and stop him. He’s furious, ‘Why should I not? They beat tiny girls! They beat everyone! Bastard!’

I shout at him, ‘But we’re not beasts! We’re not like them!’ Somebody takes the Basiji away as people curse him. I think, ‘But the bastard deserves it. To come out of your house in the morning, just to beat up people you don’t even know.’ I don’t recognize myself and my feelings anymore.

You can get in any car to go back home. People trust one another now. The woman in the back seat sitting next to me says, ‘It’s no longer about Mousavi or election results. We have suffered for thirty years. We didn’t live a life.’ An old man next to her offers me fresh bread. They tell jokes about the political figures and laugh out loud. They feel victorious. ‘I had waited thirty years for this. Now I feel relieved.’ She writes down my phone number to send me news. ‘Send it to The Guardian!’, she says.

I will. I promise.