Issue 4

 Sina Hariri
 Political Science Student at University of Toronto at Mississauga (UTM)

Copied directly from my black notebook that I took with me to Iran. The entries begin as I am on the plane to Iran, just above Turkish soil.

June 7, 2003 (3:40 PM Canadian Time June 8, 12:10 AM Iranian Time)

Somewhere over Turkish soil, 33,000 feet of air below me, is a sight unlike any. Small golden cobwebs of human civilization are below me in the endless blackish night. Tiny clutters of humans living together, sending out rays of light penetrating my eyes high above them.

A gradual ascending inky void can be seen in the horizon where the golden cobwebs of humanity reach out and touch the stars. The universe ahead of me, humanity just below me… so THIS is what it feels like to see through the eyes of God.

To any beings who cross through the fabric of the clouds, they see a sign… they see a greeting of yellow cobwebs begging for attention saying, “Look at us! We are humans! We made all this!”

The night makes all things equal. Humanity appears as humanity, and the golden rays of self-created light have spread nearly all over the globe. And where our lights end, stars continue the golden trail. The cities below, each with a different shape and size are almost a mirror image of the star constellations above…majestic… hopeful… twinkling with promise.

It pains me to look at this harmonious beauty. For behind the beauty and serenity and unity of the city lights just below the stars, lies a world in war, a world of turmoil…a world of pain. The bitter sweetness is unbelievable. Tonight (or day in whatever time zone you are in), I looked upon humanity as it SHOULD be, as it hopefully will be one day, peaceful, united, the only other beauty that can compare to everything ELSE out there in this mysterious universe…


June 8, 2003 (4:05AM)

Since I am now in Iran and will be here for some time, I have decided to adopt this time zone since all others have become somewhat irrelevant. From here on in, all times are IRAN TIME!

So the city of Tehran is huge from the golden threads that I saw above. We landed, went through immigration (which was rather quick) and out the exit where ghost-like apparitions from my past went all over me. The airport was filled with people and as I looked upon them, (all looking like strangers to my eyes), I felt right, as if everyone at the airport was family some how…That is the feeling one gets when returning to the soil they were born on. The family did rush forward and swarmed me with hugs, kisses and roses. I even nearly hugged a random beggar trying to sell me something, thinking he was family. Hey! He knew my name, so I thought he HAD to be family since EVERYONE was shouting, “AGHA SINA! HEY! SINA!”

But now I am tired and sleeping in Baba Shahrokh’s (my grandfather) house in the semi-warmth of Tehran, alive and well. I am very very very tired and thus I will go to sleep immediately. Someone please help me reset my body clock to that of Iran. GOODNIGHT EVERYONE!


June 8, 2003 (6:05 PM)

I am now at Madarjoon’s (my grandmother) house, another image from my past. But before I get to the horrific tale of how I arrived here in one piece, I will recall my first waking in Iran. I woke up today at 1:30ish (PM) and felt slightly confused. I had dreams last night but I recall none of them. I woke up, had breakfast and prepared to be driven to Madarjoon’s house.

The driving was…interesting! We got into the taxi (my six year old brother immediately noting that it had no seat belts). In the heat, we drove down the hill and entered the main street. There are lines and signs on the road. There are rules on the road…all APPEARS normal. Here is the interesting bit. These rules, signs and lines are non-existent in the eyes of the drivers here! I don’t know what material they are made of, but they are invisible to the locals.

People driving millimeters from each other, driving all over the place, including against traffic, backwards and to some degree, upside down! Motorists suddenly go by us as though we never existed. I was reminded of Trinity on the motorcycle going against traffic in THE MATRIX RELOADED. I was seeing the same thing in that small taxi, and this was going WITH traffic!

Eventually, we made it to Madarjoon’s house and I hardly recognized the outside of it! It was like being blind somehow. It didn’t feel new, and it didn’t feel old; I was recognizing and failing to recognize at the same time. Like touching something and not quite being able to grasp it or feel it on the fingertips.

The inside of the house I recognized immediately, but like Baba Shahrokh’s house, it seemed bigger than what I had imagined. THAT is strange since I have grown up and one would expect the houses to appear smaller as you grow up! Perhaps I was underestimating Iran too much? I replied to a few emails as well, explaining my journey thus far to friends back home in ol’Canada.

So far, I am enjoying my time here… one month remains and I will try to enjoy it as best that I can. Those crazy drivers… heheh…


June 9, 2003 (3:42 PM)

The sound of cars driving, the slow humming of the fridge, the loud click when it shuts off, the gentle drip of the tab, the high-pitched squealing of a mosquito and a drunk person singing outside. These are the sounds that kept me awake all night, not quite letting me fall asleep (especially that merciless mosquito!)

I am still shocked at the drivers in this city who think they are all Neo capable of breaking the laws of the Matrix and driving maniacally without so much as a scratch. The people here are VERY nice, overly kind people. They always say, “Ghabel nadareh” when you ask them how much it is for driving you to point B from point A. Now that translates to, “Its ok, don’t worry about it.” Being Iranian, we are compelled to say, “Tahrof nadareh!” Meaning, “I insist that I pay you for driving us here!” And the politeness continues back and forth. An American with no Iranian blood in him WILL walk out of the car when the guy says “Ghabel nadareh”. This being said, I find it odd that these same kind people go insane when they are on the roads, cursing at each other in car tongue (honking). I wonder why that is?

Also, today I discovered that the window in the bathroom of Baba Shahrokh’s house doesn’t quite go where I thought it did. It goes outside the actual house, but it faces the inside of the building. Who designed these Iranian apartments? Probably the same guys who decided to put random blocks of useless concrete in the middle of the streets causing the already insane drivers to go even further insane. I mean come on, A RANDOM BLOCK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET IS ENOUGH TO MAKE ANYONE NUTS! I still have to get used to Iranian architecture, and how virtually every house I have been too has a window that leads to no place in particular. I was under the impression that windows were built to view the OUTSIDE of the building, not a wall. But perhaps that is simply my overly ‘westernized’ view.


June 9, 2003 (6:11 PM)

The definition of civilization must be re-examined. I see around me the crazy yet VERY accurate drivers of Iran and I think that these people cannot be civilized with the viciousness they drive! Now, these people have AMAZING hand-eye coordination, something that the Jedi (the guardians of the galaxy in Star Wars) would KILL to have. Then again, these same people talk, drive cars and live in a society…so what does this mean? What is the definition of civilization? Is it carrying a briefcase? Is it being intelligent? For that matter, what is the definition of intelligent? Obviously, driving like this does not kick one out of being A MEMBER OF CIVILIZATION. I still need to get used to the vicious driving here. I think my heart is getting a lot of exercise by beating as fast as a heart being electrocuted. I did survive the car ride, so I will stop complaining now…


June 10, 2003 (3:13 AM)

In the late hour of the night, mankind has often asked itself the most interesting and fundamental questions about everything surrounding them.  “Who are we?” “Why are we here?” “What is the meaning of life?” “Why are things the way they are?” “Why is there a man operating a chainsaw on what appears to be my window ledge at 3:00 in the morning?” Such complex questions and their possible answers float through our essence as we try to use every fiber in our body to answer them.

The difficulty of these questions also varies from simple to difficult. For example, a simple question would be “What is the meaning of life?” In that case I would simply reply, “The answer is sooo damn simple that I will not open my mouth to say it!” Difficult questions such as, “Why is there a man operating a chainsaw on what appears to be my window ledge at 3:00 in the morning?” require a bit more pondering before an answer can be discovered.

In this unique situation, all forces operate to prevent me from answering this fundamental question. First of all, it is quite warm and I cannot stand the heat. Second, it is 3 in the morning, and I am quite mentally exhausted. Third, I am VERY tired (to further emphasize the second point). Fourth, the “opera of the chainsaw” appears to be at its climatic stage, thus preventing any REAL thinking. Also, the very fact that a man is operating a chainsaw just outside my window ledge at 3 in the morning boggles my already confused mind.

Perhaps it is customary in Iran to have men come out at 3:00 in the morning and play with chainsaws just outside my window…perhaps not. One thing is certain, the fact that I am writing this sentence proves that this is one question TOO important to ignore…Either that, or the chainsaw is too damned loud for me to get some sleep! These questions and more will plague my mind as I try to get some sleep, music in the background flowing into my ears from a talented group called, “Stupid fu**ing man with chainsaw out on my window ledge at 3 in the morning who simply will not shut up!”

Wait…he seems to have finally shut up…I say finally because it appears to be customary for people to come out with chainsaws and work on construction at 3 in the morning. But now the man has stopped which is good because I can now get back to the original background music entitled, “Many loud cars driving on Iranian streets honking and screeching endlessly throughout the night.” This will all go on a CD soundtrack that I will make when I return to Canada titled, “Why I didn’t sleep in Iran.” GOODNIGHT!!!!!!


June 10, 2003 (3:16 PM)

Nearly 12 hours have passed since the musical appearance of the man with a chainsaw out on my window ledge at 3 in the morning. I fell asleep at around 4:00 AM again, and slept until 12:30 PM! Today, I took a shower in the Iranian ‘hamoom’. It is a skill to be able to take a proper shower. There are many knobs. One for hot water, one for cold water, one knob going up and down to send water up or down, and another sending it out midway or out the very end (confused yet?). First of all, you need to have excellent control of the hot/cold water, which can be difficult. See, there is a furnace that uses fire to heat up the water and the higher the water pressure is IN the pipes, the colder the water becomes. So the more you turn up the hot water, the more likely it is to eventually go cold. The delicate balance between cold and hot water hangs in the air…

I (being slightly confused because of the man with chainsaw last night) failed to remember which way the knob must be turned to decrease the cold of the water. I turned the cold knob to turn it off a bit, and instead I turned it up to FULL BLAST causing much confusion, cold feelings, and anger. Cursing in Iranian was also involved (I love knowing two languages. It makes cursing in that particular country more meaningful). I managed to balance the hot/cold water after some time, eventually restoring my comfort. I then burnt, froze, burnt again and finally figured it out and quickly finished my business before the water had another seizure on me…

In the middle of all this Iranian culture, and feeling VERY cold because of the shower, and watching the lack of English speaking on Iranian channels, I find myself longing for one Canadian symbol that I used to hate…AVRIL LAVIGNE!


June 10, 2003 (11:34 PM)

Today we did a bit of ‘hanging out’ with Amoo Masoud (my uncle) who took me to see the ‘better’ parts of town. There was a fairly modern shopping mall with 10 out of 15 of its stores being suit shops. Who needs to shop for this many suits? It was convenient I suppose for ONLY those shopping for that many suits. The mall itself was quite classy, a contrast from everything else. We then drove around in the lawless streets of Iran, giving me near heart attacks each time we came within 1 millimeter of another car, and went to a ‘Boof’ fast food restaurant where I had a ‘boofet’ of delights. Bad joke, sorry, it’s late! Apparently my level of humor also declines with each passing moment on Iranian roads.

Boof was very future like by any standards. There were large metallic columns with advanced looking lights built into it. On the walls were very odd-looking paintings of random abstractness. I almost expect robotic waiters to serve us, or perhaps the food would serve itself somehow. We had Pizza, which was EXCELLENT. I made sure to note that most people in Iran DO put KETCHUP on their Pizzas. I made careful note of this because I thought I was the ONLY Iranian who put Ketchup on my Pizza in Canada. I now laugh at all those westerners who eat their Pizzas without the juicy taste of ketchup. Western Pizzas are very dry compared to the Pizzas in Iran. Also, there was a bathroom with large signs on it making one think it is a huge bathroom when in fact it was a tiny room with a hole in the ground. Today I really learnt the meaning of the phrase, “Don’t judge a book by its cover…” I would like to add to that: “And don’t judge a road by the signs on it, but rather the people driving on that road.”