During my stay in Tehran in 83 I very quickly saw the big divide between the various factions in the city. The more affluent and rich in the north the poorer and less well educated in the south. That perhaps is over simplifying the situation but thats just how it appeared to me. I saw the ‘Clerics’ ably assisted by their supporters, mainly the poor and the ‘Revolutionary Guards’. I saw the ‘Rich’, most of these were by then living in London or wherever, but some were beginning to return and the centre ‘Liberal Classes’. These middle class liberals weren’t a large group consisting of mainly professional people such as teachers, writers or they worked in the media. A couple of years after the revolution they began to voice there disapproval of the hardline government and finally a large rally was organised in the city but very quickly the demonstrators were attacked and some ruthlessly beaten. The liberal classes never raised there voices again, at least not in public.
There was a very oppressive atmosphere to be seen as well as felt. When you entered the ‘Esteghlal Hotel’, the old Hilton, graffiti was daubed on the doors. ‘Down with USA’ and ‘USA can do nothing’ were prominent but it wasn’t only the US that the graffiti was aimed at. Also women had to know there place under this regime and if they stepped out of line the black penguins or ‘morals patrols’ soon had them in the local nick for corrective training. That isn’t to say that they couldn’t obtain high positions in commerce or public bodies. There was lady in charge of the Tehran Fair. We always presented ourselves at her office when we first arrived but as we approached her desk and went to shake her hand she would gracefully smile and keep her hands by her side. We soon learnt that women weren’t allowed any physical contact with men in public and had to wear, at the very least, the drab beige or dark coloured tunics and scarves so hated by many of them. I did manage to put myself about a bit whilst in Tehran though and one evening I was asked if I would like to go to a funfair by a young lady and her brother and a few friends. At the funfair there was a ‘wall of death’ and we all wanted to watch. Good idea I thought. Will give me a chance in the dark to get up close to the sister. No way!!! Inside the stands were segregated. Women one side and men on the other. ■■■■. At least here though you did see many beautiful women unlike Saudi.
I found most of the Iranians I met and worked with to be very gentle people. Many of them were either those middle class liberals I spoke of earlier or sons or daughters of them. I have a very distressing tale of my involvement with one such family including the brother and sister I went to the funfair with. I met them both at the Trade Fair, I can’t identify them even after all these years have passed. I got on very well with the sister and one day she gave me a photo of herself and friends she worked with in her office. I commented on one of the ladies in the photo who had a sorrowful look on her face. I was told her husband, who worked in the media and had strong pro Shah views had been arrested a couple of years earlier and thrown in the notorious Evin jail. She visited him there and on the last occasion he told her he had been given an ultimation. Either renounce his views publicly or face execution. He told her he couldn’t do that and a week later they carried out their threat.
I was invited back to the siblings home to meet the rest of their family before I left Tehran. We had a great time all behind locked doors of course. The family would have had some explaining to do if I had been found there. However, later it became clear what the objective of my visit was. It seems the brother had had a run in with the authorities and the family thought he was in danger of being arrested. I was asked if I could smuggle him out of the country in my lorry. Of course there was no way I could or would and I had to tell them that. They understood and said they knew it was only a slim chance that I would agree. When I returned to Tehran ten months later I telephoned the family home hoping to rekindle my relationship with them. I spoke to the mother. She was in tears and in a terrible state and asked me never to contact them again incase the authorities were listening in. She told me that anti government literature had been found in the area where they lived. Many young people had been arrested and put in Evin jail including her children. She hadn’t been able to find them and didn’t even know if they were still alive.
I still have the photos taken in the family garden and a small simple present the sister gave me.
