Roughneck USA

New post at Mideast Youth. Read the whole thing there.

“All of the foreigners who ride in my taxi – French, German, Spanish – they all love Iran. I am curious, so I ask them.”

“They love Iran because they expect something much worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“They expect to be frightened and see people living in fear.” (Forgive me if I am not nuanced in my conversations… I am not a fluent Persian speaker. I do the best I can with my limited abilities.) “We are afraid of you.”

The driver laughs. He thinks I’m joking. I must be joking. Us afraid of them?

“Why is it that foreigners have such a bad impression of Iran?” the taxi driver asked me.

“The only images of Iran that we see in the west are of thousands of people shouting, Down with America, Down with Israel, and then burning flags. This scares us.”

“Yeah, but that does not mean that we dislike Americans. We like Americans. It’s the government we don’t like.”

“Americans do not understand that difference.”

“Don’t they ask why we burn their flag? Don’t they want to know?”

“We do not want to know why. It just makes us angry.” [Our 'friends' dislike us the most, it seems.]

Read the whole post at Mideast Youth

Naive, not stupid

From Keivan

I am not sure were I am going with this, but first let me thank you all for your interesting comments. I do feel that if you read all of the responses to my posting you guys all will get at least partial answers to your asked/non asked questions.

I am definitely not sorry for taking part in the revolution. A 16 year-old boy who was part of something so huge and amazing can’t take a lot to take a credit for anything.

I feel that I need to clarify a couple of things. A woman wrote: “ I am one of those Iranians who lost much because of the revolution. at times, I sit down and blame people like you (or my husband), who were young, and stupid, and didn't listen to your fathers”. Basically I am not sure how to answer this, but first let me tell you this I was definitely young, but not stupid. (I know that I wrote that I was young and stupid. Probably “naïve” is a better word than “stupid.” At the time I did feel that what I was part of was the right thing to do. I had a sense of social justice. I could not accept that 44,000 Americans were getting paid more than the rest of the country. It was obvious that there were people who were just stealing from the nation, just as there are now. We were also very concerned about human rights.

Almost the whole country was proud to be part of the 1979 revolution: whether they like to admit it now or not. Considering the situation now, you can say most of people were better off then than now. Looking at boys and girls who are the same age I was at the time of the revolution, I can easily say we had much better lives then than they have now.

I am not sorry to be part of the revolution at all. I would do it again under the same situation; you can call it stupid or what ever you want. My father was wrong to just use his personal (maybe historical) experiences to keep me from being part of a something that a lot of people in the world called it one of the most amazing events of the last century. I say that, but my father was also right. He was right for the wrong reasons.

I do think the direction of the revolution changed from the way we imagined it. That is why I would not forgive people for wasting our dreams building a society that is collapsing from corruption, drug abuse, and dishonesty. I see unjustness here everyday.

I am not going to get in to why the revolution changed, because there are 100’s of books that are still not able to describe all the factors. It is just unbelievable how people in power here can heep people is this miserable situation and still appear on TV/Radio as innocents to complain about the lack of this and the lack of that. Even the dumbest person/government should learn after 28 years how to govern.

Naj wrote: “But you see ... this time around, Iran wants peace, and America is sending more fighter carriers to the Persian gulf ... why IS America not leaving us to our own problems?” If Iran wants peace, then why are they playing a mouse and cat game with the international community? Iran should defend its rights, including the right to Nuclear Technology, but Iran should be more transparent, at least in its foreign affairs, because the International communities are not like you and me who can be shut-up by the Ahmadinejad government. There are many ways to get what you want. It looks like we Iranians use always the most difficult and least successful ways. This is how I feel about Iranians in Qom, Los Angeles, and Tehran. Sorry if I create more arguments for you guys. I am going away for a couple of weeks, so you’ll just have to argue by yourselves.

Open Letter on Iranian Holocaust Denial Conference

I would be remiss if I did not post a link to this letter from a handful of Iranian intellectuals over at Norm's Place.

(I know I wrote "handful," but I believe it is only a handful because more Iranians did not have an opportunity to sign the letter before it was sent.)

Norooz 2007

Continually updated post... Watch this space for more and more and more...

Pictures and posts:

From Kamangir: Let the Propoganda Begin

From Papillon: Noroze.

Fram Payvand: Iranians Celebrate Chahar-Shanbeh Soori, Festival of Fire

Norooz: An Eternal Iranian Tradition

From me: The Last Tuesday...

Norooz for Sale

From Flickr: Photos tagged with norooz

From Elizabeth: Haft Cinn

From Pars-Arts: Happy Norooz!

From Levantine Cultural Center: Happy Norouz



Goldfish have officially gone on sale in Iran. Goldfish are one of the items that most Norooz displays have.

You can email me (responses (AT) gmail (DOT) com) or link to this post when you have added a Norooz 2007 link. Or you can always add your link in the comments section.

Thanks

Iran's bazaar

Before I came to Iran, I thought a bazaar was a quaint relic that had more value as a tourism draw than as an actual economic powerhouse. Iran's bazaar, I learned, is more than that, and Angus McDowall has written a great article about Iran's bazaar. Here is an excerpt:

The bazaar, a city within a city sprawling across central Tehran, has been at the heart of the Islamic republic since it rose from the ashes of the Shah's monarchy in 1979. In so secretive a world, it is impossible to know the extent of the bazaar's control, but estimates range up to a third of the country's retail market. With its high political connections and long economic reach, some Iranians see the bazaar as the centre of a mafia that permeates the entire state.


But this thumping commercial heart, which has pumped Iran's lifeblood for hundreds of years, is in trouble. Its arteries already clogged by modernisation, it now suffers the effects of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's reckless foreign policy and the belligerent rhetoric of the United States: the threat of sanctions and war. The economy is in crisis, the bazaar feels its pain, and worse could be in store as a result of Iran's nuclear showdown with the West.


"The economy is very bad now - prices are high, sanctions are coming," says Yadollah Bakhtiari, a grey haired mercantile veteran whose business has survived revolution, war, international isolation and a fast-changing economy. "Enmity is bad for business."

See Iranians at play....

Guess what. There is a great opportunity for journalists, photographers, and Iranians to present a different picture of Iran than the flag burning and fist raising that is so emblematic of Iran. The Iranian New Year holidays are fast approaching. They start on the last Tuesday evening prior to March 20 and go until April 1.

What is great about these holidays is that there is no religious or political obligation to celebrate them. The celebration in Iran is the celebration of a culture—of a whole people. The New Year is when you see the people of Iran at their best and at their least politicized. It is also a holiday that belongs to everyone. It is not religious.

Thirteen days after the New Year, usually on April 1, the entire nation of Iran goes out on a picnic. This is a public gathering that is not coerced or orchestrated. It is a great opportunity to see huge numbers of Iranians publicly enjoying themselves.

If the media is not interested in presenting this image of Iran, there is no reason why those of us in Iran cannot. I would like to see as many people as possible go out during the Norooz holidays and take pictures. Upload your pictures and tag them "Norooz 2007". That's an order…;-)

Down with down withs

From Keivan...

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. ;-)

22 Bahman… and another day off…

Corrections to the text made thanks to comments from "M".

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the revolution: the day that the Shah's regime fell and several days after the Air France flight landed with Khomeini on board. Hundreds of thousands of Iranians (really millions: certainly all 10 million Basiji will be there) will turn out tomorrow to chant Nuclear energy is our inevitableinalienable right (inevitable? Why “inevitable” I wonder? Note to: M, I did see someone wearing a hand-painted sign that had "inevitable" written instead of "inalienable"), Down with America (of course), Down with Israel (double of course), Down with England (maybe they’re on to something ;-) ), and perhaps Down with France and Germany as well. For most it will mean nothing, but for some it will mean something. For a dangerous minority, the aggression is real.


I watched Khamenei speak to air force servicemenat the induction of new police officers (on television, not live). Thousands of blue-hatted men lifted their fists in the air and shouted “Down with America” like a bunch of automatons. Why do regimes always choose to portray themselves in the most despicable manner? Why do they goose step and raise their fists in the air? Why do they choose to set themselves against an enemy rather than for themselves?

It’s wasteful and despicable. And for all those Iranians asking me to tell the world “We are not terrorists,” I challenge you to present a different view. I know it is tough. I know, I know, I know. I am sympathetic. I know it’s fun to be out in a crowd. I know that it’s fun to let yourself get swept away in crowd behavior the way I might do when I go to a rock concert. I know. I know. What’s worse, is that I know how seductive the image of the demonstration is for the media (all-inclusive, because the Iranian media is just as responsible for the image of flag-burning, fist-waving fanaticism as the bugaboo Western media). I know that marchers ham it up for the camera. “I almost got my hair singed,” a photojournalist told me. “When the marchers saw me with my camera, they decided to burn one of their flags.” (For those of you who want to join the fun, burn your own virtual flag. Read what Scott Adams says about flag burning.)

This is the official picture of Iran and the unofficial picture of Iran. This image was created here, not in the west. It will have to be un-created here as well.

It doesn’t help for me to say that a black-tented woman shouting Down with America is much more likely to serve me dinner than to serve me up. It’s time for people here to start taking a bit of responsibility of the image being broadcast out.

And I know it’s hard. It may not even be possible.

Tips for web sites that are meant to be read behind the iron veil

I am amazed by the number of sites that I am *supposed* to read from here (Iran)that are filled with multi-media, links to Flik'r, Photobucket, and Youtube, and graphics heavy. Flik'r, Photobucket, and Youtube are all filtered folks. On top of that, the regime has put such a squeeze on our bandwidth that a dial-up modem is often faster than dsl. This makes using circumventors for blocked content a frigging headache.

So, if you want those of us behind the iron veil to read your site here are some tips:

1. Go easy on multi-media
2. Provide text feeds with complete posts or columns, not summaries
3. Don't depend on images or multi-media to tell your story (I am not saying don't use them, just provide the rest of us with some description so we can share in the joke)
4. Try not to make us move around the web too much to get the point of your story

That's it. Thanks for listening

Update of Life in Iran

Posted at Mideast Youth for those of you interested...

Happy Birthday

"You Shi'a certainly take a lot of holidays," a (rare) Sunni neighbor said to Keivan.

"Well, if you guys wouldn't kill us then we wouldn't have to have this holiday," Keivan answered. The neighbor was stunned at first but laughed with Keivan. He thinks the Shi'a are nuts.

Two days after Ashura, we found ourselves magically transported to a friend's birthday party. During a month when parties are infrequent or just simply quiet in order to avoid the prying of neighbors and potential visits from the police, this was a loud party with dancing and singing. Young and old were represented in healthy numbers as our friend was presented with cake and gifts.

"The sun should never set on Ashura," a woman told us as we discussed the best Ashura events in Iran. She had traveled the entire country observing them. Her favorite was in some out of the way corner of Iran and was, by her accounts, different from all others.

I imagined her standing by the procession in a black scarf and a black manteau crying as the battle of Karbala was recounted in chants. Now, here she was, vodka in hand, listening to music and watching the young people dance. This is what people mean when they tell you that you never know what to expect in Iran.

After a series of Iranian songs sung by a deep-voiced youth, the host's daughter attached her ipod to the stereo and acted as DJ: Bob Dylan, Queen, Cream, and R.E.M. Ahh… the tunes of my youth. What are they doing on the ipod of a 19-year old?

We all sang along to my favorite REM tune: Losing My Religion. It never sounded more like an anthem then when sung by these young Iranian party-goers.

Ashura: the pageant

"America is trying to take Ashura from us," the small, Ahmadinejad-like prayer leader called out to the crowd.

The crowd ignored him. Someone near me said, "He's trying to make this night political. It should not be political."

Still the man tried. It was like watching a rock and roll performer bomb while trying to get people to sing along with him.

Finally he gave up on politics and chanted the prayers for the sick. The crowd got excited then. That is what they came here for after all.

We were at the shrine in Tajrish in Northern Tehran. "Where are you from?" people asked me in broken English.

"America," I answered.

"Welcome to our country."

Inside the shrine, it smelled like feet, women with rainbow-colored feather dusters ushered the hordes of women to the grave. "We love Americans," a woman in a black chador whispered into my ear. "It's your government we don't like."

This was the night before Ashura. The next day we woke up to chants of "Hosseinjan, Hosseinjan." We went outside where a neighbor offered us a rice dessert with saffron. Ashura is a friendly holiday in Tehran. People are excited to be out together. It's an opportunity to express public emotion, to flirt, and to be part of a crowd. Iranians grab every one of these opportunities. Groups of young women looking their absolute best eye groups of young men with ridiculous hairdos while their parents and relatives look on.



The pageantry itself is amazing. Hazzans chant rhythmic mourning songs, men and women beat their chests. Men march, twirling chains and slapping them on their shoulders in time to the chanting. Giant mantles covered with bronze animals, shields, and feathers are carried through the streets.



And the food! Everywhere people were giving out food and drinks! We passed one group that was feeding 12,000 people. Mosques, private homes, private groups: everyone was handing out food. We ate ghemeh: a dish of split peas, potatoes, and mutton. Later we ate the heart, lung, and liver of one of the many sheep that gave its life that day.



Enough of that…

Ashura

Three years ago bombs went off in Karbala during Ashura: the holiday marking Mohammad’s grandson Hossein’s suicidal battle.

Iran is now immersed in Ashura mania, which is a bit like Halloween meets Death to America. It’s an opportunity to take to the streets and embrace the anonymity offered by huge crowds.

About a month ago neighborhoods started decorating for Ashura. Huge paintings of Hossein (or “Hossein’s friend” as one observant Muslim told me) went up alongside tents that are used for gathering to commemorate the death of Hossein. There seems to be more decoration than ever in Tehran. “The neighborhoods got more money for the decorations this year,” a man told us.

Iranians worship victim hood. They use graphic war footage of bombs falling on Iranian soldiers to recruit for the revolutionary guards. They embrace every opportunity for a good public cry. They portray themselves as victims rather than as aggressors.


Well, Inshallah, they don't want to repeat history with another suicidal battle.

Inshallah

Tehran is the quietest big city I have ever lived in. Very few sirens. Very few airplanes. Very few cars blasting music that makes your walls vibrate. And no discos. At least no discos that you can hear from the street.

Aahh peace. Yet when our dear friend witnessed a horrific traffic accident in north Tehran, it took two hours for a second ambulance to show up to treat the remaining wounded. There were hospitals within one mile of the accident scene and it was the middle of the night, so no traffic! The price of quiet…



(Business flash you rich Iranians: ambulance services for pay! For the pure of heart, use some of the profits from wealthy clients to subsidize ambulances for the poor and the struggling middle class. I offer this idea to you for free. I guarantee profit. I guarantee thousands of clients per day. Think of it.)

When an official of the government was in a fatal car accident, an ambulance never even arrived. He was carried out in a pickup truck.

This is the land of inshallah. God willing. Inshallah, our houses won’t collapse in an earthquake. Inshallah, America won’t attack. Inshallah, my child will get better. Inshallah, we'll get our delivery of milk by 10 am. Inshallah, we'll celebrate Hamid's birthday next Thursday.

The Leader and the Price of Tomatoes

“Khameini is dead,” my sister-in-law tells me. “They’ll announce his death during Ashura.”

“He’s just fine. I saw him on television.”

“They are showing old footage and writing “live” on it. But he is dead.”

“That’s just a rumor from abroad,” I add. “They say he’s sick. They say he’s dead. Is he even sick?”

“Yes,” one woman says.

“No,” another says.

One of our friends thinks he looks sickly; another that he looks healthy. There is nothing so subjective as the leader’s health.

“Tomatoes are 3,000 a kilo,” Keivan’s cousin says.

“The most I have paid is 1,700.”

“That’s what I paid last night,” I say.

“No one should buy them. They should be left to rot. Tomatoes are too expensive.”

“They are terrible now anyway. The taste is bad, and they are rotten.”

“Ahmadinejad says If tomatoes are expensive then come to my neighborhood to buy them.”

“Yeah, and spend two hours getting there and 6,000 tuman on the cab.”

“Why is everything suddenly so expensive?”

“There are American warships in the Persian Gulf,” I say.

“Eh,” says my sister-in-law who lives close to the Gulf. Her face screws up and she starts to panic.

“Nothing will happen,” I say. I don’t know what else to say. She has already lived through her share of bombing.

“You don’t know, Esther, when Iraq was bombing Tehran it was terrible. The house next to us was hit; our neighbor’s car… Every day we thought that we would be next. It’s so horrible. I cannot take it again,” my other sister-in-law says. “Remember when we were taking care of Nooshin’s dog and how scared he was? He just hid under the couch.”

“That wasn’t during the war,” her husband says.

“It must have been Chahr Shambeh Souri,” I say (Last Tuesday night of the year: lots of bonfires and fireworks…)

She laughs. “You’re right. It was Chahr Shambeh Souri.”

So, do you think there will be war?

“So, do you think there will be war?” This is the way Keivan starts every conversation these days.

There is a reason: for the third time since we came to Iran, people are seriously afraid of being attacked.

“Please, when you go back to America,” a spice salesman tells me, “tell them not to attack us.” He was probably doubly afraid because his shop is about a mile from a heavily guarded military-industrial site.

“Saffron was 335,000 tuman a kilo last week. Yesterday the price went up to over one million tuman.” Stocking up on saffron in case of war? I would have thought that tuna fish would be more appropriate.

“There are 18 million soldiers ready to go to war if we are attacked,” a taxi driver tells us.

“Where?” Keivan asks. “Where are they?”

Trust me, the West underestimates Iranian patriotism and overestimates the connection between the way Arab political leaders feel (fear of Iran) and the way Arab people feel (respect for Ahmadinejad and his stand against the West).

Israeli sources seem to overestimate the chances of an Iranian nuclear strike on Israel and underestimate the response to an attack on Iran. I think that despite the Shi’a- Sunni split, most Muslims would see an attack on Iran as further evidence of anti-Islamic furor. I am going on record as saying the attack will not make Israel or any of the Arab states or America any safer. I am willing to say right now that the opposite will be the case.

“I sure hope Iran doesn’t use any Shahab missiles. If they do it will be the start of WW 3,” a friend says.

“Why do you think that?”

“They’ll hit everything but their intended target. A missile aimed at Israel will hit Saudi Arabia or Russia or some other country.”

Everyone laughs. Everyone goes about their daily business: hoarding saffron and tunafish.

Tehran City Council Elections

Tehran is a big and sprawling city with intractable traffic and seemingly random road closures. The metro will take you from Mirdamad station, which was once in a far northern section of Tehran and is now close to its center, to the far southern reaches of the city where Tehran's huge graveyard is in just 30 minutes. Getting to Mirdamad station from northern Tehran can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour depending on traffic. Getting to Khomeini’s tomb from northern Tehran will take 45 minutes at 3 am and up to 2 hours on a day with normal traffic.

That’s just north south. East west is equally large. It’s like Los Angeles, Kansas City, or even Jacksonville: rambling on and on with about as much organization as a rash.

The smart thing to do would be to divide the city into precincts and elect city council members precinct by precinct. Instead, Tehran residents all over Tehran vote for the same pool of candidates. It’s all a bit overwhelming.

Candidates have to run a city-wide campaign to get elected. With limitations on television advertising, this means flyers, posters, sms messages, radio, and balloons. It’s expensive to run for Tehran’s city council. It takes a huge organization. Posters go up like wall paper. One candidate pasted right on top of another.

To make matters even more complicated, each candidate is assigned a code about two days before the election. Ballots are only valid when the candidate’s name and the candidate’s code are written correctly. The most successful campaigners produce cards with candidate’s names and their assigned codes printed on them. This, of course, favors conservatives who have strong organizations. Who else can safely meet and organize in Iran? Simply put, only the conservatives and the fundamentalists have been able to meet with impunity.

Voting for independents or reformers for city council meant scanning through hundreds of names at the polling station itself. Posters with names and codes covered every wall of most polling stations. You had to look carefully, find your candidates, write down their codes, and then vote. Most voters had scrap paper and pens that they carried with them from poster to poster.

It’s a wonder that so many people voted in the city’s elections and that so many ballots were cast correctly.

Surprise party

“Keivan is that you?” Our hostess calls. The road to her house is impassable, so we are making our way on foot through snow and dirt.

“I am so happy to see you,” she calls out. A young man appears at her side. “Be my guest for dinner.”

What’s going on? We thought we were having dinner in this remote mountain apartment with our eccentric intellectual friends. Now we are being herded five into a taxi and making our way through Tehran’s mountainous lanes. On the way, our host catches fire when his cigarette drops on his coat. Pulling up to our destination, the taxi falls into one of the open drainage ditches that can be found alongside most Iranian roads.


We arrive around 9:30, still waiting for dinner. Inside the modest apartment on the inaccessible lane is a lively group of young, budding intellectuals. There is no alcohol, but one of the guests managed to arrive drunk and remain drunk for several hours until he became equally sleepy. How much do you have to drink to remain drunk for three hours with no refills? It seems like a kind of miracle to me, but then again, I cannot drink enough to even get drunk, let alone stay drunk.

“A friend of ours has a cat that eats pistachios. It cracks them open and eats them,” I tell the assembled.

“If the cat eats pistachios, what does the owner eat?” A carpet seller jokes.

A jumbo man pulls out his tanbur – a two-stringed traditional instrument made from a gourd – and begins playing traditional tunes while the drunken man attempts to hush the party goers. “This is the real Iran,” our would-be hostess whispers in my ear. “This is why I don’t want to leave again.” She is incongruously dressed in a designer black party dress and a fur coat while the rest of us wear our ready-to-wear. This is not a party filled with prom dresses and posing.

“What do you think of your fellow classmates,” our hostess asks the assembled students.

“The women have beautiful faces and empty brains,” one young man volunteers. “They are in university just to be students. Our discipline is not taken seriously so you do not need very high marks to get in,” he explains. “The men are worse. They are just there to avoid military service. It’s annoying. There is no conversation, no probing.”

“I am afraid of the military service too,” I say.

“No, you are afraid of the military,” Keivan laughs. “You are not afraid of military service.”

Lest we forget

Whatever you think about the execution of Saddam Hussein, don't forget that his "stability" in Iraq was bought at a heavy price.

From Violence marked his rise, rule and fall
By Borzou Daragahi and David Lamb
Special to The Times

For his country, now convulsed in civil war, Hussein's most lasting and damaging legacy was the way his selective patronage and brutal violence divided Iraqis along lines that continue to split them.

Hussein moved rivers to reward Sunni Arab villagers loyal to his government and drained swamps to punish Shiite Muslims who rose up against him. He moved rebellious Kurds from the northern city of Kirkuk while selling cheap land in the city to Arabs to reward loyalists and upend the ethnic balance of the country's oil-rich north.

He imprisoned tens of thousands, ordered the killings of political enemies, real and imagined, including two of his sons-in-law, and used poison gas to wipe out whole villages in the Kurdish areas of northern Iraq. He granted construction contracts to favored Arab tribes, while depriving whole categories of people — such as Shiite Kurds — of their citizenship rights.

Such violence and manipulations may have established a semblance of stability. But they also built up a sense of entitlement by Sunnis and resentment on the part of Shiites and Kurds that fueled violence by death squads, militias and insurgents once the U.S. invasion of 2003 toppled his regime.

Snow blind

Since our epic battle with traffic on December 1, changes have been made: salt and dirt are in bins on the sides of Tehran's highways. Stuck? Sliding? Grab a handful of the mix for a little traction. It helps, and illustrates one of the reasons whyDavid Ignatius writes about Tehran's mayor in his article "Three Men on a Tightrope."

Keivan and I got stuck in our own self-made snow traffic when we decided to take our regular hike the day after a big snow. About half-way through, we found ourselves thigh-deep in fresh powder. It was just us, some dogs, birds, and foxes. We're nuts we know.

It was gorgeous, though.




Is that the sun setting?