FOR's Peacemaking Delegation to Iran: March 2007
Report Two, Part 2: Connecting with the People and the Culture
Priscilla Zimmerman: "Two Mosques" (March 8)
Thursday, March 8, 2007, was our delegation’s final day in Shiraz, in southern Iran. The city of roses and poetry had treated us to balmy, sunny skies accentuated with calming breezes. Our first stop of the day was Imamzadeh-ye Ali Ibn-e Hamze, the shrine of a nephew of the 7th Imam. The domed exterior looked like a typical mosque from the outside; the interior was anything but. Entering the portal, we removed our shoes, as we had done in countless holy places earlier on the trip. But this time, we women wrapped a white sheet around ourselves as a chador. Then, walking through the doorway, our visual sense was bombarded with the incredible sight of high ceilings and walls covered with tiny-mirrored facets, all offset from the plane by small angles to create an explosion of light and brightness. Stunning in their simple yet dazzling execution, the mirrors of the shrine of Ali Ibn-e Hamze, called “Ayneh Kari” in Farsi, are one of the best examples of this distinctly Persian art form.
Settling down on the carpets, our guide explained that this shrine is known as a liberal place open for reflection and study, where one can even come with children; in fact, non-Muslims are welcome too, making it an anomaly among Shiite shrines. The courtyard outside the dome is unusual too: every square meter of space is filled with grave markers, flush with the surface stones; final resting places for the very rich who wish to bask in the Imam’s reflected glory.
We continued our mosque tour at the Nasir-ol-Molk Mosque, the“Pink Mosque,” named for the preponderance of pink flower patterns in the exterior tile work. Here, in observation of International Women’s Day, the women of our delegation took a group photograph against the rosy backdrop.
A holy man in gray robe and black turban marking him as a “Seyyed”, or descendant of the Prophet Muhammad, strolled by in the courtyard. I thought it odd that he stooped to adjust his turban in a large mirror leaning against the wall. My suspicions were not unfounded. As a few of us discussed possible interactions with him, our guide questioned him and soon informed us that our theological discussion would not have progressed very far; the man was an actor in a film being made here. Sure enough, as we entered the interior prayer hall, we noticed a track and camera dolly set up along one wall.
The room was lit through beautiful stained glass windows, streaming the morning sun in prism patterns on the floor and evoking Catholicism more than anything in the Shiite world we’ve been living in. And the intrusion of modern film equipment made the clash of cultures more pronounced.
After lunch, our final stop of the day was Bazaar-e Vakil, or the Regent’s Bazaar. Set in the center of Shiraz, this bazaar is built with architectural vision; the perfect brick arches providing both airflow and a spatial sense missing in other Persian bazaars. The man who built it seems to be unique as well. Karim Khan, ruler of Persia in the late 18th century, possessed humility to the degree that he did not use the traditional title of “Shah,” or king, preferring instead the word “Vakil,” or regent. Hence the name Bazaar of the Regent.
While Karin Khan was endowed with humility, his master builders must have possessed slightly less. Just outside the Bazaar-e Vakil stands the Arg-e Karim Khan, or Citadel. The 14-meter high walls and towers of Khan’s palace are impressive and imposing, yet one tower exhibits a pronounced tilt. Pronounced so much, in fact, that even engineers from Pisa, Italy, have given up trying to correct it!
As for our experience in the bazaar itself: many delegation members took it upon themselves to assist the Shirazi economy with purchases of traditional woven rugs, cloths, purses, dresses, and vests, among other things.
But the currency of human emotion is worth more than bank notes. This was borne out by our experience in the bazaar. The small buttons we all wore, with the words “Peace Advocate” written in Farsi, were a point of connection on numerous occasions. One young boy of eight or nine years old, from whose father I bought a matching embroidered vest and hat for my 15-month-old son, flashed a smile worth 9,200,000 Rials after I gave him and his father the buttons my husband and I were wearing. Stronger communication, indeed, than the 12 words of English and four Farsi phrases we had in common.
After dinner at our hotel in Shiraz, we boarded a 9 p.m. Iran Air flight to Esfahan, leaving the jewel of the Persian south behind us.
Ymani Simmons: "Blue Eyes Looking Into Dark Eyes" (March 9)
Walking through the excavated ruins of Persepolis is a continuous meandering through the ages. The ancestors of this ancient land arise to greet every step that is placed upon the soil. I was easily pulled into another time, another reality.
Then, out of nowhere, a familiar voice pulls me back into the present. A young boy of 13, with whom I had exchanged a few words when I first arrived at Persepolis, had reappeared. I can describe his vivacious smile, his warmth, his unbuttoned red plaid shirt over a black T-shirt and white baseball cap with “NY” in New York Yankees script highlighting his dark eyes and sepia skin. I cannot as easily describe the qualities of light and warmth that emanated from him to me.
He was asking in his broken English for permission for his friend to take a picture of him and me. We stood side by side and together faced his friend with the camera. He shyly indicated to me that he would like my permission to stand closer and to allow him to put his arm around me. I nodded and said, “Baleh” (pronounced BAH-lay), a casual but affirmative “Yes.” We stood arm-in-arm while his friend with the camera framed us, capturing a permanent image of a tender moment.
After posing, we strolled towards the museum, trying desperately to be understood by one another in the few brief moments that we knew were all we had.
Arriving at our destination, he asked for pen and paper and wrote something in my notebook that I read through tearing eyes while watching his brilliant smile disappear around the corner and from my sight forever.
“I am (he wrote his name), and I love you,” he wrote.
This brings to mind my experience of the voices and countenances of the Iranian people. I feel love, friendship, and unity as a world family. I have met my relatives as human beings and reached across borders and boundaries.
I will return home with the imprint of his sweet heart etched upon mine always.
[Ed.: The delegation elected not to provide names of any people we met in casual encounters so as to preserve their anonymity. Names of officials with whom we had formal meetings are included.]
Danny Postel: "Rock Star Status for Philosophers"
Crowds of several thousand Iranians crammed into a university auditorium to hear a German philosopher lecture on the history of religious pluralism and separation of church and state in Europe.
The name Jürgen Habermas may be scarcely recognizable in the United States. But when this German thinker lectured in Tehran in 2002, he not only packed the house but set Iranian intellectual circles abuzz. The leader of Iran’s largest student organization claims Habermas as his chief inspiration.
This is nothing new. It might come as a surprise to most Americans to learn that there is a vibrant and indeed longstanding engagement with western philosophy in Iran. Among the most widely read philosophers in Iran today (besides Habermas) are Hannah Arendt, Karl Popper, and Isaiah Berlin. In the last decade there have been more translations of the work of Immanuel Kant into Persian than into any other language in the world. The writings of Friedrich Nietzsche and Martin Heidegger were translated into Persian well before they were translated into several European languages.
The Iranian philosopher Ramin Jahanbegloo describes the intellectual ferment in Iran today as a “renaissance of liberalism.” There is a deep passion for ideas in Iran today, a palpable craving for intellectual dialogue and engagement with global cultural currents.
This was on full display at Book City, a large and teeming Tehran bookstore we visited. The ample philosophy section featured the latest works, in English, of the big names in European philosophy and political thought: books on democracy, liberalism, and modernity (tajadod in Persian) abounded.
But Iran’s love of philosophy can be found outside the corridors of academe as well. On our third day in the country we visited a long-term care facility for veterans of Iran’s eight-year war with Iraq (1980-1988) and talked with a wheelchair-bound patient who had taught himself philosophy. His favorite philosophers, he told us, are René Descartes and William James.
For further reading:
- Danny Postel, Reading Legitimation Crisis in Tehran: Iran and the Future of Liberalism.
- Farzin Vahdat, God and Juggernaut: Iran’s Intellectual Encounter with Modernity
- Afshin Molavi, The Soul of Iran: A Nation’s Journey to Freedom
[Ed.: Delegation member Danny Postel is senior editor of Open Democracy, an online magazine of global politics & culture, online at www.opendemocracy.net.]
Conclusion
This concludes our second report. The third report will cover our last days in Iran, our final impressions, and our preparations to disseminate our messages upon our return home.
