My two Irans
Home » Blog » Ali Shariat » My two IransAfter arriving back in Iran, Ali is reminded of the dichotomy that continues to characterise the country.
Photos by Ali Shariat
This week I saw the two Irans in their contrasting colours.
My week started off with a text message from an old friend, Sahand, who had moved back to Iran from New Zealand a couple years ago. We agreed to meet up during the week after work. We would have a look around the city, an exhibition presenting some handmade leather goods and then maybe later retreat to café.
And so, as planned, on Tuesday evening I made my way to Tajrish, a trending part of north Tehran known for its relative liberalism, shopping and as a youth hangouts. In usual Iranian fashion I was 30 minutes late, but Sahand had been expecting this. After the initial exchange of hellos, mutual acknowledgement of differences in appearance and enquiry into the progress of Outrageous Fortune we made our way to the leather goods expo.
Once we got there, what took my attention was not so much the products, but the people who were there. These were, without a doubt the most 'alternative' Iranians I have ever seen. The only way I can describe them is perhaps hippies in vaguely 'Islamic' clothing. Sahand was totally accustomed to this of course, and pointed out that there is a 'Persian version' of all the styles we were used to in the West. “We even had our own type of emo!” (I have since made it a point to find one of these Iranian emos and take a photo for you.)
Not wanting to seem too fresh, I humbly took this, but I really was surprised because in Iran, homogeny is very much the only accepted standard and the most 'alternative' Iranians I had ever seen had random spiky hairstyles or my good friend in New Zealand, Bahram, who has long hair and is in a rock band.
Nevertheless, after Sahand finished looking around and I had finished staring like a stunned mullet at the Iranian hippies, we went for a drive through the city and ended up at one of Sahand’s favourite cafés near the city centre. An inconspicuous place at first. Simple signage and with a rustic Spanish theme. A plain white sliding door with a large window in the middle that revealed about 12 empty tables inside. We walked inside and headed to the back, through an open doorway that revealed another room, which never really was hidden. The room was full with mostly young people, about university age. The kind of people you would see sitting around in the cafés of Ponsonby, Grey Lynn and Kingsland. Most were dressed in a trendy way or wore Chucks, tight jeans and had chappiye (the scarfs Palestinians wear) wrapped around their necks. Overhead, easy jazz, soft rock or Texan country/western music played and added to the gentle atmosphere created by the yellow ambient lights. And just like their New Zealand counterparts, these guys smoked like there was no tomorrow.
This was the Iran that would easily fit into the West and in fact, other than the constant indoor smoking, this could easily have been any café in an Auckland backstreet. It was interesting chatting to these guys. I noted some of them were in mixed gender groups (something not always looked upon too favourably in Iran). There were also people there who had come for the isolation, for a chance to escape the rush of the city. They sat there silently sipping tea or coffee as they read or scribbled into their notepads. This was the first Iran, the liberal Iran, the one that constantly pushed the boundaries.
As I headed home, I saw the second Iran. This week commemorated the passing of a religious figure in Shii’a Islam. Accordingly, many of the city flags were changed to black and the commemorative shows were run on TV. As my taxi headed through the dark streets of Tehran, we came to an unexpected halt. A huge number of buses lined the streets and large groups of people wearing black were moving between them. The buses had large banners tied to them saying “Pilgrims of Zahra” and the name of the city they had come from. I asked the driver what was going on.
“The Supreme Leader has hosted a dinner for the public in honour of the holy day. These people have come from around the country to attend.” I looked more closely and saw that many were holding boxes of food, and all the women, without exception, were wearing black chadour (a cloth that women wrap around themselves to disguise their figure). Every now and then I would see an Akhoond (Shii’a clergy) walking amongst the crowd.
This was the second Iran. The religiously conservative Iran, the one that zealously supports the regime and is often seen on Western TV at mass rallies.
This is the constant dichotomy of my Iran. There are the liberals on one side, who listen to foreign music and socialise freely. And there is the conservative religious side, who on Saturday held a public demonstration in support of people wearing chadour. It's in the midst of these two opposing ideologies that I find myself, trying to make sense of everything and wondering what the future will bring.
Tue June 01, 2010 @ 05:48 PM
