Down with America
We got up at 4 in the morning; it was a dark and cold winter day. My older brother, who was most of the time sick of having me around, agreed to go together to Qom. It was one of the coldest winter mornings that I had ever felt. The winter of 1979 was one I would never forget.
The night before we had convinced our mother and older brother that we would be okay and that they should not worry. We were going to witness the arrival of Ayatollah Khomeini in Qom, right after he got back from France.
My lovely dying father, who was in bed with lung cancer at the time, tried everything to stop us from going. In a very powerless voice tried to convince us not to go. He was telling us non-stop that this revolution would bring the country backwards and that we should never trust the Mullahs. He was definitely not a Shah lover, but he had this bad feeling about everything was happening. We did not listen. We left for Qom.
It was not far from my hometown to Qom. We got there around 6 in the morning. We knew that Khomeini would arrive much later. On the ugly streets of Qom, my brother and I yelled -- not for first time -- thousand of times ”Allah-o akbar, Khomeini rahbar, marg bar Amrika.” (God is Great, Khomeini is the leader, down with America)
I will never forget that day. I did see Khomeini, and I was really happy to take this big action to witness an historical day in Iran.
I was happy about the revolution. Now I am like millions of my fellow countrymen who, like me, as young men and women went to the streets to cheer on the revolution and to shout down with America, and who now feel betrayed and devastated. Will the young people yelling the same thing today learn from me? Will they be like me? Regretful? Homeless?
My father was right about all of this. We were young and we were stupid. Maybe we were right about the revolution, but we were wrong about its direction. We did not know what we were talking about, just as my father said. Things took a turn for the worst. Me being only almost 16, I was really excited for the first time. Like people today on the streets of Iran, I did said many times Down with America. And I am really sorry about that. Not because America has been such nice friend for Iran, not because I say down with America and I don’t mean the American people, but because it is just so wrong to call for the death of a nation, and I don’t care which nation it is. This is especially true if you want to improve your image or you are internationally isolated.
I totally agree with Esther about this horrible flag burring sh*t.
Iranians should feel very sad and ashamed. I cannot imagine waking up in an apartment in New York city or any other city and looking out of the window and hearing people singing Down with Iran. It would be really painful. I know that I could not take it, and I know for a fact that it would make me sick. Hearing Down with America here is making me sick and that is not just to support Esther because she is living here with me, but because she is right. I am really sick and tired to hear how Iranians always blame others for every misfortune.
Even so I blame the British. ;-)