Plane crashes, pollution, & other every day occurrences.

Iran daily life

Iran is deep into its second week of horrific pollution levels. Schools and offices closed last week in an effort to reduce Tehranian’s mobility needs and therefore reduce the pollution. No such luck. It just keeps getting worse. There is no rain, no wind, no nothing. I am starting to feel like someone has been standing on my chest, like I am caving in.

In the midst of all of this, a military plane crashed with 68 journalists on board. The pilot did not want to take off. He was ordered to do so. This is a scandal. (See idiotic graphic on IRNA’s site. Note that tulips are the symbol of the martyr. Martyr to what? Irrational decision-making?) Mr. Behi expresses the common outrage.lThe uncommon outrage is that it is America’s fault because of sanctions. Well, there are sanctions against obtaining nuclear capabilities and Iran seems clever enough to get around those. Also check out the BBC’s report via regimechangeiran.

Our friends have been attending a lot of funerals. Many of them knew people on board. I wish them well.

Ahh… but the pollution is the lasting disaster. When will it end?

Back in Town

Millions of Iranians have returned to Tehran which means the roads are packed and there is a disgusting orange cloud of smog covering the city.

School started a couple of days ago. Mornings are filled with the noises of children playing in the schoolyard before the first class starts. I like the sounds.

"Soon only the women will be educated," K tells me. "Guys just aren't making an effort. They don't see any benefit in pursuing an education."

Every year the percentage of young women attending university goes up. (I could add that critical thinking goes down, but that might be interpreted as an indictment of women rather than an indictment of the education system. The second is meant.)

"Young men have their daddies buy them stores and put them up in business. They think they can make more money that way than through an education."

We have friends in foreign-owned businesses in Iran that only have women working for them. "The men are just useless," they tell us. "We have almost no men working for us."
To be fair, the situation is more complicated than that. "Men in Iran believe that the women are making the regime work," K tells me. "After awhile, men here use inefficiency as a form of protest."

Yeah, yeah… maybe…

It's hard in Iran. People start out full of energy and ideas and slowly find themselves worn down and thwarted. It's enough to make anyone useless and inefficient.

For Whoman
(I am sorry that Whoman is feeling less opinionated now, but I, for one, do not see this as a barrier to blogging. Why should it be?)

What I really wanted to write for Whoman was that it has been a snowy winter here in Tehran. While the snow has yet to stick on the streets, it is sticking in the mountains which are this incredible white with black rock sticking out here and there. When the pollution clears, Tehran is stunning. The skies are a bright, bright blue. The mountains are etched into the sky with whiffs of snow blowing off the peaks. Wow.

Unfortunately the pollution is horrid this winter. Everyone prays for rain, snow, and wind so that they can have one or two clean days. When there is no “weather,” we have these incredibly yellow skies combined with the overpowering smell of ozone. The government actually closed down schools and auto repair facilities for one day in a mostly successful effort to bring the pollution down.

Smog

Have I just gotten used to it, or is there actually less pollution in Tehran this summer? I mean, I can actually see the mountains and black junk is not coming out my nose (yet). By no stretch of the imagination is the air clean, but it does seem to be better.

One reason might be that the stinky, diesel spewing, public buses are being replaced by new natural gas buses. You get behind one of those buses and you don't smell a thing. It's great.


Oh yeah… and one more thing about my Dad…
Last night before I went to bed, I was thinking about mushball when I remembered the Dear Abby part of the story… so here goes.

There were a few times when there were not enough men for both teams. On those days (which were rare), my father would play for both teams. He would stay in the outfield the whole game, taking just a couple of minutes each inning to bat. I did not understand how he could play for both teams. I remember asking him, "How can you play against yourself?" I don't remember his answer, but I do remember his laugh.

What I did learn is that it is possible to be both competitive and cooperative. And everyone has more fun when the two are combined.

Thanks.