nodoctors.com kevekev.com no politics no religion tour summers 07-08 |
pt.1 - Tehran, Iran 6/4/08 Welcome all, abandon hope, etc etc. I’m back in Tehran this summer, and won’t you join me for another summer of sun-tastic, beach-errific, hula-tional travel throughout West Asia and North Africa. Like a Virgil, you will see all and feel all through my carefully prepared e-guides, formulated for the sensitive readers of our contemporary time. Ladies: unlike most web letters, you need not turn away in disgust from my handsome visage as it stares defiantly into the sun or haggles with the poorest of bazaar merchants. Gentlemen: still awaiting that “Oriental” experience? The sensual hypertext of my tales will be at your service. I think lesson number one this year is: when you stop drinking, you start dreaming. One night it was my mother laying metal eggs, another had me meeting a bearded Brian Wilson playing a floor tom, and in the last eight hours I attended a graduation ceremony where the band played … The Band. They’re horribly vivid and I wouldn’t wish them upon my enemies. No wonder The Electric Prunes broke up.
To bring the general population up to speed: Two summers ago I came to Tehran to see how bad everything was. Last summer I returned to find out how great everything was. This will be summer of averages, as I am wizened enough to give more directions than receive, and my Farsi returned quite fast. To wit, I am enrolled in a 5 week intensive Farsi course at the very distinguished Dekhoda institute, 5 mornings every week. Mr. Dehkoda was one of those well known cultural nationalists - the kind that all countries have - who labored in the postwar era to restore Persian to its non-Arabicized roots, and pioneered the largest Persian dictionary ever made (14 volumes). My class has East Asians, a Latvian, some Brits, two Americans, and, naturally, people like myself, verily sired by an Iranian father but never learning the sweet mother tongue of his homeland while growing up in the US. Instead I got Midwestern American English, which is, to put it mildly, not very erotic. I am still debating internally how much time I want to spend in these foreigners’ midst. The Ugly American Syndrome has already been observed, including such gems as “if they could only speak English” and “I want an American pizza.” The last straw was when the Brits were complaining about the stranger side of Persian cuisine. I held my tongue except to point out that they are the ones who eat marmite. For breakfast. I had quite the Proustian moment my second day here, as I found a small kebab-house in the middle of the Tajrish bazaar, near my classes. I ordered the stew of the day, my and most Iranians’ favorite, ghormeh sabzi. It’s hard to make in the US unless you have the right kind of greens, so the first taste of it brought back many feelings, most of them pleasant, about my past experiences here. Traveling abroad generally wrenches me out of whichever shallow personal and emotional funk I had previously been wallowing in, and this meal served as a proper catalyst for this annual rite. Note the picture, on the upper right, of famous Iranian wrestler Gholamreza Takhti, the Michael Jordan of Iran, who was found “suicided” after speaking out against the Shah in 1968.
As usual, I arrived right around the anniversary of Ayatollah Khomeini’s death, which begins a long string of holidays. Seriously, I went to class for two days and then there was a five-day holiday. The Roman calendar used to be at least one-third holidays, which the Catholic Church kept going for centuries until the Protestants thought it was too sinful. The designation of Khomeini as “Imam,” which occurred in Iran shortly after the Revolution, is still pretty contentious as far as Shi’a Islam goes. You see, in Shi’ism, there were twelve Imams, and the last one disappeared, only to return in the endtimes and reward the true followers (it’s a long story, look it up). In this regard, Shi’ism is much more millenarian than Sunni Islam, which has no such predictions, and is therefore also like Christianity’s second coming. Khomeini already was a Grand Ayatollah, the highest level of clerical rank, in 1979 at the time of the Revolution. I think a little “grade inflation” occurred to distinguish him from the other Grand Ayatollahs, but at the same time he’s not considered the 12th Imam, who is called, as many soldiers in Iraq know by now, the Mahdi. Instead the term Imam remains one of endearment and the religious contradiction has not really been worked out (are they ever?). In the picture below, one sees the phrase, “The Prophets came to invite people into the light from darkness.” There is a crowd laying hands on a picture of Khomeini, though, which is glowing effervescently. I think you can tell what that implies, and I’m less interested in how “correct” it is than how Iran’s particular fusion of politics and religion had this interesting consequence that other Shi’a would find highly dubious (the designation of Imam upon Khomeini has been criticized by Islamic scholars inside and outside Iran).
I rode in a shared taxi a few mornings ago and had a brilliant experience. This quite old guy was driving, I think his eyesight wasn’t too keen either, and he kept it at around 100 km/h on the highway when possible. On the front passenger side was some teenager checking out the football news in the latest sports rag, and I could tell he was getting worried about the wild ride when, after watching the driver lay on the horn and maintain a distance of three feet from the car in front of us, and trying to intimidate everyone out of the way, the kid put on his seat belt! That’s a desperate move here. Then, to top it off, the driver started reading the sports page the kid was holding, while still driving. I have to take taxis much more this summer since my classes are unavailable to reach on the subway. This is bad news, since, as readers of last summer’s tales may remember, my frame and comportment do not fit well within these metal beasts. Plus it’s hot. On the other hand, last night a guy had “Eye of the Tiger” as his ringtone, and I think it was not for ironic purposes. Stay tuned for more, with the help of the keen invisible editorial hand of Elvis deMorrow making sure that supply meets demand. I leave you with this wonderful chicken store, which I think should replace those kitty “Hang in There!” posters that most secretaries love.
posted by kevekev.com pt.2 - Tehran, Iran 6/10/08 The Yankee dollar is a pittance here. Whatever money I’m saving with street smarts and pluckiness has been eaten up by forces - probably with tentacles and beaks - beyond my control. Just in the last week the exchange rate went down 8%. That’s probably as low as it will go (note to future self: stop saying things like that), but I feel the sting, readers. It resembles the dull ache experienced after a taxi runs over your foot. Hmm, maybe I’m getting the mental effects of the end of global dollar hegemony confused with the actual pain of vehicular paw trauma, which did occur to me yesterday evening. Ahh, life! Everyone wants to know if Iran’s got the nuke. Well, their money’s got it at least. Behold the newest Iranian bill:
Note the nuclear symbol’s subtle outline in the center of the country. Yes, we can have both the beauty of Persian script and the brandishing of the powers of (peaceful!) fusion. The text points out that nuclear technology is Iran’s sovereign right, natch. This bill is now worth $4.60, down from $4.65 a week ago. Oh, re-aligning structural tendencies of the global balance of power and the end of fortress America - thy sting! Ever since I came to Iran the first time two years ago, I’ve amassed a large collection of martyr murals – you know, the type that journalists always describe as “fading.” Well, walking by the (former) American Embassy this week I noticed a string of excellent new wall murals that I will share in this space once I get a chance to go back and take a few pictures. In the meantime, I passed by this guy and felt impelled to grab it:
From what I can make of it, his name was Khaleed Eslambuli, and the text at the top says, “I killed the insistent unbelievers.” I’m not exactly sure about that translation – it could also mean “tyrants.” The fact that he’s behind bars and waving a Qur’an tells me that he was probably taken prisoner in the Iran-Iraq war (1980-88) and he said something to this effect before he was killed. Iran never received a full account of its POWs from Saddam’s Iraq, and I doubt that the Ministry of Records in Baghdad now will be able to help, even though we’re all good friends again. Say what you want about Iran, but they refused to use chemical weapons in retaliation when their soldiers were gassed by Iraq (and Saddam Hussein was aided by US satellite intelligence as to the whereabouts of Iranian positions). You can chalk it up to Islam, which is the official reason, or you can say that it is because if Iran had used chemical weapons, it would have given Iraq carte blanche to gas Tehran and all major cities. Either way the record stands. Per my research mandate I'm here peering into the Iranian welfare state. You might not have heard about it. Supposedly everything here is in the dumps. The president is constantly under attack for the “disastrous economy” which defies the orthodoxy at all turns. Well, it’s certainly not in peak form, but I’ll wager that the bottom 50% in India, Pakistan, Egypt, Mexico, Brazil, etc. wouldn’t mind living here. One reason is the abundance of subsidized basic necessities. My local friendly neighborhood
I admit, I am guessing that anyone is allowed. Why this hasty deduction? Permit me. This particular photo was taken in Tajrish, one of the wealthier neighborhoods in Tehran. These are middle-class people in line. The richest 5% of Iranians wouldn’t be caught dead waiting in line, but they are also generally extremely prejudiced towards anyone who doesn’t look like Bianca Jagger. So, if in every neighborhood I go to I see one of these, I’m pretty sure that these co-ops are universally accessible, and not discriminatory; admittedly, this is not true of all aspects of the Iranian welfare state. On the other hand, another word for “discriminatory” welfare is “progressive” welfare – since that’s the idea behind most modern countries’ income taxes. This co-op network is the kind of thing that op-ed pundits in the Western press write off as antiquated and inefficient. Thomas Friedman, who seems to have an endless supply of turtlenecks, recently wrote that given a choice between Israel and Iran’s economies, he would bet on Israel’s. Why? Because Warren Buffet just invested a heap of money in Israel’s tech sector. Friedman then pontificates, “I’d short Ahmadinejad and go long Warren Buffet.” Iran is supposedly wasting its petroleum resources, an asset composed of “dead dinosaurs” rather than brilliant new-economy flat-world minds, on things such as maintaining welfare – he actually mentions welfare. That kind of idiotic comparison is the exact type of shit that keeps Thomas Friedman and his perpetually sheathed neck employed. It’s a false comparison (welfare vs. investment), and what’s more, if you did the correct comparison (investment vs. investment), you would not see two polar opposites. Iran recently signed investment deals with Malaysia, India, China, Turkey, Russia, and Japan (plus their old friends Italy and France are still around). Fine, Israel makes cool weapons and techie stuff. They’re also probably going to be besieged for the rest of my adult life. Which city lives a more relaxed life in its future, Tehran or Tel Aviv? I’ll admit the latter has those discotheques which are indeed a selling point, but I would not “long” them. I'll conclude this installment with a modest contrarian talking point: who says the strongman is a thing of the past? I say a healthy society needs its strongmen, and I came across this guy in a square near my house. He even is wearing the essential strongman fashion statement: the black and white horizontal striped shirt. Why horizontal stripes? Because he’s a fucking strongman!
At the end of each feat, he would give it up for Ali (the son-in-law of the Prophet), and once in a while for the Prophet himself. I left right before he asked for two children participants. He also had a megaphone with a tape recorder jacked into it – the whole thing had a very “one man band” feel to it. Still, given the state of the US economy these days a few strongmen in each city to cheer up the masses would probably do us some good. Nothing better transforms an early morning eviction into a party than a striped-shirted guy lifting your soon-to-be junked sofabed over his head. We could even turn it into a "D" celebrity reality show: “Smash with the stars!” posted by kevekev.com pt.3 - Tehran, Iran 6/18/08 I don’t want to give people the impression that everything here is hunky dory. I only state the positives because everyone else almost always focuses on the negatives. That being said, this summer it seems that the toll of inflation on the average Iranian’s standard of living is quite painful. The price of fruit has gone up about 50% since last summer, meat 75%, cab rides 30%, and generally everything that is not an essential good is costlier. Bread, bus and subway fares, milk, etc., all seems to still be cheap. But the worst, of course, is rent. There is a class of Iranians who bought housing in the 1990s and early 2000s and saw their property values shoot through the stratosphere. Those folks still live like it's 1978. But for the rest, buying a house in Tehran is just not an option for the middle class anymore. So a larger portion of everyone’s income, unless you take the still common route of living with your parents, is going towards rent. Given that the average age of the country is about 23 now, I would imagine this to be the main grievance of many. And, unlike the rising prices of transport fuel and other imported goods, which the government can do little about aside from subsidize, the rising property values are a result of the fact that Iran is neither a privatized market economy nor a fully state-directed command economy. I guess no economy really is 100% one or the other, so that’s not a good answer. I’d rather not bore you, but here I go: Around 60-70% of the Iranian economy is controlled by or through the government. That doesn’t necessarily mean it is inefficient, but it does mean that there is very little room left for private investment that actually gives decent returns for your work-a-day Iranian capitalist. Lots of money does flow into the economy, though, either through government expenditures on infrastructure, services, and consumer goods, or through the “bringing home” of Iranian exile capital, which has been occurring since the late 1980s. Money by itself doesn’t make money, and so it usually goes where other money is going (that’s what you get taught in business school so you can skip it now). When capital markets (such as stocks, bonds, etc.) are widely available to pools of money, and they deliver consistently higher rates than other assets (like government bonds or land), then you see lots of investment there. That’s not the case inside Iran, both for internal and external reasons, so the money goes elsewhere. It is estimated that $200 billion of Iranians’ money is invested in Dubai’s economy. It mostly, however, went into property development, apartment complexes, fancy bathrooms, etc. The state barely taxes the rich, and nothing was gaining value faster than property prices, so basically the richest class of Iranians sunk their money into land and is now super-rich. The rest of the people can eat cake. Is it a bubble? Hell yes. But it is not so deeply interconnected with the global rise in property values that occurred in the 2000s to burst along with the others. The major complaint against the current administration of Mr. Ahmadinejad, from all political factions, is that he flooded the economy with money, ostensibly to create jobs and raise incomes, but instead the money found its way into property and consumer prices. I am no inflation hawk so I think that, in theory, his plan might have worked, and I think that in some areas outside Tehran there actually might be some increases in standards of living. But in practice this country was not really ready for the gold rush in oil revenues to be loosed upon the economy without any sort of direction. I must mention that the current state of the Iranian wealthy continues a long post-revolutionary phenomenon in Iran wherein the rich have actually been allowed lots of space for consuming their rich person stuff. The government often looks the other way when it comes to the black markets in this country, probably because it knows that you don’t mess with a man’s whiskey connection. That is why a bottle of decent whiskey in this country is only about $10 above market price in Western countries. Now, that’s the bad news. The good news is that Iran can afford to subsidize the staple goods until the Mahdi comes back, so you probably will not see bread or rice riots like the ones that are occurring in a long list of other countries. The squeeze, as I mentioned above, is on the middle classes, who have expectations that exceed their incomes. But then that’s probably the definition of middle class anyway. It’s what they do about it that matters for the future of Iran, which means that the next 30 years of Iranian politics will be as interesting as the last 30 years, and there’s an even likelihood that things will turn out OK, if a certain lingering issue could just resolve itself. What is that? Hmm, it’s hard to remember sometimes. Oh yeah:
This mural, outside the old US Embassy, definitely was painted after I left last summer. Notice (how can you not?) the black Americo-Zionist fist holding the world in its LEFT hand. So, there are still some things to work on, I admit it. It’s a fixer-upper! Look, this picture is just bad ass so deal with it.
Did I mention I am trying to go to Sudan in one month? Well, I was just informed that a tourist visa to the Islamic Republic of Sudan “does not exist.” In fact, I think they laughed when I asked. Instead, I was told that I needed a letter of invitation from the government of Sudan itself. I was planning on getting in as an Iranian citizen (which I am), you know, Islamic bosom buddy pariah countries and all that. No dice on the Islamic front. I’m not giving up since I really am desperate to experience the 130 degree weather of a Khartoum morning sitting on the back of a real camel (not a Sears camel!). Strings shall be pulled. Corrections and Amendments Section: I earlier asserted that the designation of Ayatollah Khomeini as “Imam” was unprecedented in Shi’a political history. A small child informed me that I was incorrect. The term “Imam” can refer to both the usurped line of rightful progeny of Mohammad, or to the concept of a learned Islamic jurisprudent who rules in the present (in place of the rightful heir who disappeared into the well – look it up!). This has in fact occurred many times in Shi’a history, especially when the Shi’a clergy did not possess as rigid a hierarchy as it does now (the rankings of Ayatollah, Grand Ayatollah, etc., all originated in the 19th century). I regret the error. posted by kevekev.com pt.4 - Tehran, Iran 6/26/08 First, I’d like to amend a serious error made in an earlier letter (6/16/08). As Professor Patrick O’Neil pointed out to me via email, Sepah is the Iranian Army, not the Iranian Revolutionary Guards Corps. Therefore the co-op shown in the picture, similar to the many branches of Sepah Bank, is under the umbrella of the Army, not the Pasdaran (Revolutionary Guards). I confess to knowing this beforehand but writing about the Guards for purely exaggerative effects. But, the difference is important, since the co-op system has its roots in the pre-revolutionary era, which I neglected to point out. Certainly the Shah’s regime did subsidize, in some form or another, a variety of staple goods. The 1979 Revolution began a process of creating a host of parallel institutions for each part of the government – there’s the national army and the Revolutionary Guards; the civil courts and the revolutionary courts; the republican institutions of Parliament and the theocratic institutions of the Supreme Leader and the Guardian’s Council; and, thus, a martyrs’ welfare system and a universal welfare system. Thanks to Patrick - who had just visited Iran as an American and seemingly had no trouble getting a tourist visa - for keeping me honest. Do you just say magic? Oh yes you did. Mere parlor tricks, or mind-bending feats that only the Shi’a Imams could bestow upon our mortal sphere? Behold:
A simple man, adorned with just a single megaphone and a desire to share his gift with the people. That gift being the ability to make the dude on the right lay some eggs. I came across this scene near my metro stop, and though I was pretty caked in Tehran city-dirt, I stayed to see the egg gag. The guy had to squat down and cluck a bit, on top of a seemingly empty velvet bag. Then:
This reminds me of a story when Chuck Mertz and I and some other This is Hell folks were eating brunch at a Swedish joint in Chicago. There were signs posted advertising a black magician. By that I do not mean that he dealt in the black arts, though of course all magicians do, but that he was African-American. You don’t see lots of black magicians in the states, so I bet it’s a good niche if he can get work. After we sat down, the guy actually shows up in the flesh and asks if we want to see some magic while we wait for our waffles. A vote was taken at the table. The majority voted “Nay” so he went away. As soon as he left, Mertz said “I absolutely hate magic,” which is not surprising because he also hates freedom. But I said I only voted no since I thought we had to pay to see it. I will gladly accept free magic. Then the waitress informed me that the magic was indeed free, and I demanded a re-vote at the table but was shouted down. During breakfast the magician just sulked by the entrance. We could have been basking in the illusory nexus of mental whim and pagan delights, but instead we just kept getting coffee refills. A shame. I ended up at the Swiss Embassy a few days ago for a philosophy conference on “Europe and Fundamentalism.” The upside: I got some actual espresso. The downside: I had to listen to Europeans talk about Europe and how great it was. The organizer was this fellow in the middle, Simon Oliai. On the left is the famous Iranian philosopher Dariush Shayegan, and on the right is the soon to be departing Italian Ambassador to Iran, Roberto Toscano:
Shayegan gave a talk (in French) on the links between Sheikh Ruzbehan’s medieval Sufi mystical poetry and the modern world. Toscano spoke on the problems and promises of cultural exchange and “dialogue among civilizations.” Oliai, though, presented his paper on the “essence” of modern fundamentalism, which he posited as a reactionary inability to accept the world as a place without absolute meaning. Who has that ability? Why, Europe, of course – more specifically, 20th century European philosophical thought. I had all kinds of problems with this: its lack of historical grounding, its assumption that Europeans themselves actually believe this (most of them don’t), and its implicit argument that “fundamentalists” of any stripe are deviant psychological outcasts that can dupe the masses and rout the intellectuals. This is tandem with the usual claptrap that some nebulous thing like “globalization” causes fundamentalism, since some people are just not ready for the flat world. I pointed out how cultural exchanges in the pre-modern era occurred over a relatively equal balance of power between different world regions and empires. I also pointed out that Europe developed the Enlightenment and all the achievements Oliai was mentioning during an lengthy era of nearly constant war between states and princedoms. He retorted that Kant conceived of “perpetual peace.”(but only in one of his final texts, I believe -ed., B.A.) I threw back that philosophers had to dream about perpetual peace as an ideal because it never existed in reality for most of Europe’s entire history. I then said that the difference between other eras of “globalization” and our current one is the massive gap of power and wealth between Northern and Southern countries, and any analysis of “fundamentalism” as an ideology has to take into account the failure of earlier ideologies to decrease this gap of power and wealth. Furthermore, the “fundamentalism of the market” that people like Joseph Stiglitz single out as the ideology behind the disastrous economic policies forced upon poorer countries undoubtedly has something to do with the rise of political-religious revivalist movements in various parts of the world (not just the Middle East). If we don’t consider the glaring discrepancies of the global balance of power and wealth, and the historical processes that produced this reality of our contemporary era, then any analysis of “fundamentalism” is less than useful. Unless, of course, you just want to toot the European horn. Anyway, I said something along those lines, at which point Oliai interrupted me and stated that these were all “leftist slogans” from the 1960s, Third-Worldism, etc. He was rude when he said it, and the room went kind of quiet. Luckily, Ambassador Toscano came to my defense and said that being called a leftist is OK in his book. I was a little taken aback. After all, I had just sat through a whole day of rumination on how European philosophy can teach us all to be pragmatic postmodernists, respecting difference and allowing for democratic debate in a secular public sphere, etc, etc. The Europeans throw around a lot of “globo-talk” these days and see themselves as the rightful tutors of the world. Just because the US is now down in the dumps, though, does not mean that it will be replaced by the Derrida and Lacan book club. If philosophers think that the world can function with everyone pondering the “deconstruction of meaning” and the end of “meta-narratives,” then good luck to them. As a sociologist, I have my doubts. People need custom and habit, tradition and ritual (invented ones, of course, but that makes them no less important), and communal ties. The existential man who can stare into the void and come back as a secular humanist is a luxury of our present world, not a bulk good. posted by kevekev.com pt.5 - Tehran, Iran 7/1/08 So the news comes out from Sy Hersh that the US has secretly upped its black ops inside Iran with the knowledge of leading congressional Democrats. Sy Hersh has been the great prevention agent of a US attack on Iran – by continually saying that one will happen. I guess the US gov’t just likes seeing Hersh with egg on his face. Seriously, though, I feel a little sorry for the US spies inside Iran. Do you know how many crackpot theories about the Iranian government I hear every day, without even soliciting them? If you took a poll here a majority of Iranians would say that their government, for instance, actively pushes drugs on the population and takes a cut of the profits. How else could so many Iranians be addicted to opium and heroin when they’re such decent people? Well, maybe there’s some looking the other way, a la Serpico, but Nazila Fathi reported in the old grey lady last week that, and it is worth quoting at length here:
So, good luck to all new spooks. Maybe they’ll read the paper too. This is the third time I’ve been back to Iran, and by now it has lost whatever exoticism it held for me. I will have to get my oriental kicks somewhere else from now on. In one way, that’s quite a good thing. A less naïve view of things here from all concerned parties would do a world of good. An important skill for the anti-tourist is to be able to look at the present and see possible futures that can emerge. That means that you must look for trends, changes, signals – all things that go against a static, unchanging picture of society. With that in mind I, contrary to almost everyone who calls themselves sane, think that there is a large possibility that Iran will turn out OK. The next election is important, but more important is that Iran has “re-emerged” in world politics and economics at a time when the old rules are useless. There is more 'space' (for lack of a better word) wherein countries can work out their own problems than, say, 15 years ago. The article cited above is just one example – I bet we’ll see many reported cases of sound political pragmatism that continually surprise onlookers. Given its present circumstances, Iran is on the extremely thin end of the 'space' spectrum. That said, the government does face a public with very low morale. Or, to put it more philosophically, as my Chicago mate Danny Postel did, Iran has a “legitimation crisis.” When your 20% wage increase from your government job gets eaten up by your rent hike, you are not a happy camper (since you can’t eat the Qu’ran). This is not limited to Iran, but is part and parcel of a more general crisis of government effectiveness in the current era. The best the World Bank can give these days is paeans to lowering “corruption” and practicing “good governance.” These are platitudes – the whimper of an institution itself plagued by legitimation crises - which do not give us new hope for a rebirth of state-building. How Iran deals with this, we shall see, but I am not entirely pessimistic that they will utterly fail. In a few months time, assuming entirely foreseen catastrophes do not occur, the discussion can begin again. Those that support liberalism and democratic/civil rights here were entirely unable to link their platforms with the bread and butter social issues that the 1979 Revolution still represents for many. Most of them have realized this – you have to decide whether you want to be an intellectual or a politician. They still have no political strategy now, as far as I can see, and are hiding behind the conservative right, who were shaken by Ahmadinejad’s attempts to usurp their old bureaucratic haunting grounds. The coming “fight within the right” – that’s my loose translation of what the newspapers here are calling it - is proving to be the important one as the elections next year loom. Yet, Iranian politics is famous for dark horses so I will wager nothing and therefore cannot be proved wrong. My picture of the day is this contemplative mural:
Isn’t it interesting that the mural mentions the “anonymous” or “nameless” nature of the war dead? Coupled with the decidedly non-belligerent look on the lad’s face, daydreaming of better pastures both sacred and profane, I am quite struck by its different possible meanings. Clearly the mural is part of the general mantra of “remember the troops” that Iran, like many countries, possesses in its national discourse. However, the kid – beardless, strikingly – seems downright weary. I leave it for a better critic to decide its true message.
He is not. F.M. was born to Parsi parents in Zanzibar. The Parsis lived in Persia over a millennium ago, were Zoroastrian, and moved to South Asia after the Arab invasions. Again, thanks to mitochondria, we know that the male lineages are perhaps more Iranian than most Indians, but the female lineages are more Gujarati than Iranian. Today there is quite a large community of them in Bombay, among other places, which then explains how many of them eventually made their way to the U.K. Calling Freddy Mercury an Iranian singer is like calling Gallagher a British comedian. posted by kevekev.com pt.6 - Tehran, Iran 7/5/08 I got some decent fan mail from my take on “Old Europe,” so another round is in order. Returning to my bout with the European globo-heads, I cannot help but notice that the project of supra-nationalism that they effervescently cheer on – the EU – is on quite an anti-democratic bent. The populations of France, Belgium, and now Ireland have voted against various forms of the extremely unwieldy EU constitution. The response to all this from EU heads of state and Brussels is to scorn the masses for ignorance, and then march confidently onwards towards “integration.” But as Le Monde Diplomatique superbly notes, integration EU-style is much more a technocratic and elite-driven process than a negotiated popular consensus. As Christopher Bickerton puts it in LMD,
The continual rejection of “Europe” by Europeans has been disregarded (even by very famous European philosophers) as the crude “fundamentalist” cry of those unwilling to face the future. They just need to be educated correctly and they will see the light. This is very similar to the only concrete proposal to emerge from the Tehran Swiss Embassy conference, one that everyone was quite proud of: the way to combat fundamentalism was through … literature. I am undoubtedly in favor of supplying literature to the world, and perhaps even more radically, I am in favor of enabling literacy in order to help the philosopher’s quest even further along. But I fail to see the winning strategy here. Unsaid, of course, is that only a certain type of literature would be allowed – the cosmopolitan stuff like Pamuk, Rushdie, Zadie Smith, [Doonesbury -ed.], etc. But this smacks of the same tone that the folks in Brussels pour forth after the rare occasions when EU countries are allowed to actually have popular referendums on their own confederation and reject the terms presented. Lastly, on this point, sources close to the author report that the Swiss blowhard who raged against my points at the previously mentioned conference turned out to be a big jerk on all fronts. more tomorrow... posted by kevekev.com pt.7 - Tehran, Iran 7/11/08 The last week in Tehran has been filled with the nostalgia that can only come shortly before a departure. In a taxi last night at 3 in the morning I translated (badly) the lyrics to “Hotel California” for my driver as it played in the car. He liked the guitar. I told him that it was a statement on the vapid transformation by the mid 1970s of the summer of love generation – a theme that Don Henley milked for about 30 more years (he’s dead, right?). I also told him the original version was better than the Hell Freezes Over “barstool” version that he had, but then he said he had that one too. I took a short trip up to Mazandaran province with my aunt and cousin – heading north over the Alborz mountains and to the Caspian Sea. Mountain roads are a good test of a country’s infrastructure, and Iran had some impressive tunnels and turnpikes compared to a similar “over the top” trip I took in Venezuela two years ago.
Mazandaran and its neighboring province, Gilan, are held in high esteem by most Iranians. It is supposedly where Persian-style rice originated, and its climate resembles panhandle Florida. It also looks like panhandle Florida:
The first evening we arrived we convinced a sandwich shop owner to open up even though it was late. As he heated up some high grade bologna, I glanced at the floor. It was crawling with thousands of flies. I told my cousin to look down, and he told me to look up. There was one eco-friendly bulb suspended from the ceiling, and around it swarmed thousands more flies. Take your pick, I guess. See what I mean about Florida now? Shopping is an important pastime of most Iranians. In a way, the window gazing that occupies people’s time in the early evening after work is just an extension of the bazaar culture that pervades Iran. It brings people of different classes onto the street, and offers opportunities for public discussion and romance. Below is an old shopping street that dates from the Pahlavi era, in fact its old name (all the streets have old names – that’s what happens after revolutions) is Pahlavi Street:
Mall culture is certainly here, but it is only fully pervasive in the upper class in Tehran, where in the Northern neighborhoods extreme opulence and conspicuous consumption are important symbols that help placate the wealthy’s interminable crisis of not looking rich enough. The rest of the country makes do with more rational shopping patterns. In a world where Wal-Mart supermercados have littered the Mexican countryside, Iran is pleasantly 'behind' on the box store phenomenon. The Shah, in his last book, Answer to History, said that he wanted to bring supermarkets to Iran and replace the bazaars. Bazaari merchants overcharge and are inefficient middle men, he wrote. Worst of all, he said, they weren’t modern. One of the more famous grievances of the Revolution was that the Shah planned to run a highway right through the old and large downtown bazaar, tearing it down and replacing it with whatever was modern in 1975, which I believe was The Pinto if I am not mistaken. There are Persian versions of most famous people. I often see someone who is a spitting Iranian image of one of my friends (the Iranian Elvis deMorrow also smokes, by the way). So I wasn’t too surprised when I saw the Iranian Frank Zappa:
Naturally, he was into prog rock, and we had a discussion about which King Crimson album was the darkest. He had a great love for early Genesis as well as the more obscure German bands Jane and Eloy (second time I’ve found a Jane and Eloy fan in Iran now). We both agreed that Pink Floyd, while famous all around the world, was inferior in most capacities – a pseudo-intellectual band for people not disciplined enough to take on the really heavy stuff. Iran’s birth rate is down to below replacement rate (1.9 kids per household), an amazing accomplishment that the rest of the Middle East is ten years away from. There are a bunch of reasons for this, partly due to state policy (which was natalist in the 1980s war but then swiftly turned anti-natalist once they perceived the oncoming baby boom), partly due to economic reasons good and bad, but also definitely tied to the expansion of health and education into rural areas after the Revolution. The downside of this, as we know from China, is that fat kids become prevalent because they’re the only child. Most Iranian men and teenagers are quite svelte. But look at this kid:
Two things immediately come to mind. This is a sign for a portrait studio, meaning that: 1. Either this plump lad is somehow a poster child for the next generation of Iranians and everyone is OK with that, or 2. The proprietor of this studio is not-so-slyly courting the richest families to bring their ball-child to his shop in order to preserve the new corpulent youth in vivid color. I have sat in taxis with these specimens watching them berate their mothers when they get low on hydrogenated oils. One of them got his "Cheetos"-hands near me and I almost flipped out [more photos of kevekev berating fat kids, please -ed.]. No trip to Tehran would be complete with another dire warning from the Islamic Republic: Don’t Smoke!
The translation is loosely as follows: “By lighting up a cigarette you are extinguishing the light of your life.” [cry me a river! -ed.] Iranian smoking rates are much lower than other countries at its income level, and now that taxi drivers are occasionally wearing their seatbelts (the fine is 300 dollars if you get caught without one), I have come to believe that Iran’s public health campaigns are quite impressive and eventually effective. The national cigarette, Bahman, even has its own line of “natural” cigarettes, called “57.” Maybe that is a reference to the Persian year 1357, which in annum dominis is 1978/9, the year of the Iranian revolution. Note to self: start cigarette brand “1776” upon return to Baltimore. I’m leaving for Istanbul tomorrow – and not going to Sudan. Given that the president of Sudan has just been issued a warrant for war crimes by an international body, I can see why “tourist visas” are not high on their priority list. I believe my application for a visa is sitting in a cabinet somewhere in Khartoum, perhaps to be one day “liberated” by some US Blackwater types. Last summer, Turkey saw the re-election of the mild Islamist party AKP to parliament in historically high numbers. Now the constitutional court in Ankara is deciding whether to ban the party and its top leaders from politics for 5 years on the charge of anti-secularism. So, though I think it’s unlikely, I have a slight chance of witnessing a coup. posted by kevekev.com pt.8 - Istanbul, Turkey 7/17/08 Not only did I not make it to Khartoum, but my host was forced to evacuate. This is so typical of my post-Iran travels. They usually overlap with an international crisis of some sort. This time it was, as I predicted, the International Criminal Court's indictment of the current President of Sudan, Omar Al-Bashir, for crimes against humanity and genocide. Nick Kristof in the NYT subsequently had some finger wagging piece blaming China, yet again, for the intractable situation in the Sudan. Kristof, I believe, is the guy who "bought" two Cambodian prostitutes to save them from their line of work, only to return to Cambodia to find one of them gainfully employed at her old trade. Schindler he ain't - I wouldn't take lessons on realpolitik, much less cooking lessons, from a NYT columnist (I hear they don't like spicy). The fact that China sells guns to Sudan is probably not the reason that Sudan has had a 20+ year civil war which then spilled into the Darfur region, and China is probably not the reason that Omar Al-Bashir finally agreed to a peace deal a few years ago - a deal yet to be fully implemented. Perhaps what makes the situation intractable is that, as Alex de Waal has pointed out, a peace deal is unlikely to actually take hold if the leader of one of the parties feels like it is a trap. So in prosecuting the president for the past crimes of Darfur, one is increasing the likelihood of a breakdown in the political process which might cause another humanitarian catastrophe in Sudan's future. Not that Sudan isn't a nasty regime - it's nasty and we can agree on that. But if we're indicting sitting presidents for war crimes and a certain someone isn't on the short list then the whole process may not be seen as a level playing field by everyone else. Capiche?? Istanbul is a veritable "Islam lite" for most visitors - I encourage all to visit because there are no repercussions for your blasphemous and ignorant ways. My only problem with Istanbul, which proceeds from the former sentence, is that there are crushing throngs of tourists in the main neighborhoods of town that operate similar to herds of elephants I once observed in a South African game reserve. Perhaps this sounds like the expected "wizened" diatribe from the "experienced traveler" who considers himself to be "roughing it." Well, I am most definitely not roughing it - look at this view:
But, the press of the tourist masses brings forth both the over-exoticism of the local tourist industry as well as the embarrassing displays of Ugly American. But ugly american-ness is not only a national trait. It is an much needed export for our troubled election-year economy. I heard a story whereby a packed tram near an old Istanbul market stopped and a large red suitcase near the front was unattended. The driver asked to whom it belonged, with no answer. The police came - Turkish police pack some heavy heat - and started dragging the heavy bag off the tram after 30 minutes of vexed discussion. Just then, a Chinese woman began screaming and emerged from the back of the tram. She had left her bag in the front, like in an airport van, and sat in the back relaxing. Given what I know about the Turkish defence forces, I was surprised she wasn't gunned down during her charge like it was a London tube stop. Or at least sufficiently tased so that the incident served to educate us all. No - it is probably something Istanbul deals with all the time.
Let me relate a personal story. I was walking in one of the bazaars here in Istanbul, famous for their aggressive hawkers and fanny-packed tourists. I was passing the time talking with some merchants, since most speak enough of any major language, to see if any knew Farsi (some did and to others I taught a few dirty words). I got near an American teenage couple who were eyeing some rather tawdry jewelry and the girl turned back at me and grabbed her bag like I was some swarthy thief. Five minutes later I saw an older American man, hunched down, pushing his wife through the crowd while guarding her purse with his arms - the histrionics of that guy looked like a fullback blocking in the red zone. Fine - protect your "fanny" and your declining American dollars. But don't insult a nation in the process. I spent an afternoon on the largest of the Princes' Islands, Büyükada. Islands now famous for their beaches and quaint culture often had horrible pasts, usually serving as prison camps or more generally places of exile and banishment. Büyükada once held many royals who found themselves out of favor with the Ottoman sultan of the day, and also served as Leon Trotsky's residence in exile in the late 1920s, where he wrote his History of the Russian Revolution. Their beach was kelp and jellyfish-ridden. I avoided the translucent blobs until I saw a child on
If you have a list of things that you want to see before you die, and professional arm wrestling is not on that list, I advise you to amend your list. Beforehand, I didn't know I had always wanted to see arm wrestling. Only later did my desire, though finally quenched, appear to me as an eternal one. Or perhaps it was just because I saw Over The Top on WGN so many times as a kid.
Two 100 kilo dudes, two refs, cameras all around, "Eye of the Tiger" on repeat, and if you both let go the first time, they tie your hands together to ensure a winner. There was lady arm wrestling, major face-in-face screaming, a fog machine, bags of talc, columns of fire and sparks, Rocky-style entrances, and one of the matches had to be interrupted because ... fireworks were going off directly above us ("Eye of the Tiger" remained on during the fireworks). And if you got mad, say, because your arm didn't touch the mat but the ref said it did, don't even think about it. Do not go there. Why not? Because this guy stood on the stage the whole time:
Turkish politics are getting hot, and the American conservatives who were holding up the ruling AKP party in Turkey as an example of "moderate Islamic democracy" are leaving the building. Why? The answer in my exciting conclusion (coup pending), coming soon. Meanwhile, I think that a sufficient metaphor for Turkish politics is this old Ottoman painting of a man and his demon riding a psychedelic rooster ark. posted by kevekev.com Once again I am pleased to present the roving predoctoral missives of kevekev.com as he spends another totally peaceful and not at all tense summer in the West Asian lands. What really happens! -ed. pt.9 - Boston, MA 8/1/08 The good news was that the Turkish constitutional court ruled not to ban the AKP. A close call, since the court's vote was 6-5 against a ban. Still, I portended a possible spiral of violence if the AKP would have been forced out. The US had tired of backing the party as Bush's plans of being the midwife to a democratic spring in the region have, um, faltered. Turkey is the last great borrower from the IMF, as most of its clients are scheduled to pay back their debts soon enough. Turkey's great efforts to be a showcase for West- and capitalist-friendly "Islamic" governance is losing steam, and an attack on the ruling party could have ended it right there. Most distressing for me were the conversations with self-proclaimed Turkish leftists who bemoaned the "theocratic" direction their country was taking and would look me in the eye and say that Turkey is in danger of becoming like Iran. I replied back that, at the current rate of extremely mild Islamic socio-political reshaping underway in Turkey, they'll all be dead when that happens. Part (or all?) of democracy is not liking the party that is in power but still ceding it legitimacy. The Ottomans, multicultural pioneers, held a large array of musical styles in its heyday. Upon its post WWI demise, with the expulsion and transfer of peoples (Greeks, Slavs, Turks, etc) throughout the Balkans, what was "Ottoman" music became national musics with different names. Thus today we have the interesting phenomenon of different folk songs existing in Greece and Turkey with the exact same music in it. A Greek variant is called rembetika, and I caught some in Istanbul during my last evening.
My return layover in Amsterdam taught me a few things, thanks to its in-airport art museum with B-celebrity Dutch masters. In 16th century Amsterdam, doctors diagnosed a patient by looking at the color of one's swirled urine held up against a candle. In the early 20th century, doctors still tasted a patient's urine (quickly) to test for the presence of sugar - a sign of diabetes. In a devotional sacrifice to the dominant euro, I ate a $18 California roll and a $12 power smoothie. Since this is a post-American world, with post-American girls, a final thought is in order. The danger of reckless tourism lies within the attempt to "collect" countries like Garbage Pail Kids cards - it seems controversial at the time but later on it is pretty gimmicky. I am probably guilty of that with this trip - if I had made it to Khartoum, I doubt much interaction with the locals would have occurred. A dollop of humility is the minimum requirement for traveling. I am always impressed by the joviality of Iranians, for instance, even as they turn complaining into an art form (I met an auto mechanic who could swear beautifully in English - how did he learn that?). Or the camaraderie of Turkish citizens, where the cafe culture puts any American city to shame. What can we take away from this? The era of high-horse American posturing is drawing nigh, for reasons not well understood in our domestic sphere just yet. It is likely my generation will be disappointed for their entire lives, though, and the prospects for post-Empire nostalgia seem high. However, when you're royally fucked and finally know it - now that is a sublime state of mind. If you can smile as it happens all the better. A more feasible scenario, though, is that Americans will live the rest of their lives like the end of the movie Brazil, flying around on our chariot in a form of mental tourism. I assure you that we will be guarding that fanny pack all the way to the promised land. Corrections and Errors: Big one here - the bearded and jailed Khaleed Eslambuli that is pictured in my second missive was the assassin of Egyptian President Anwar Sadat, not an Iranian P.O.W. I translated the passage as "I killed the insistent unbeliever," when I should have more logically translated mesr as "Egyptian," as in "I killed the Egyptian unbeliever." That's what happens when your dictionary is too complete. Egypt is reportedly still a little touchy about the subject. It's like traveling to Moscow and seeing a mural of old Lee Harvey. Postscript and Apologies: Simon Oliai sent me an email, which, although written to someone else, pointed out that I had been a cad in my earlier description of his temperament and sentiments. Simon is undoubtedly 100% correct here, and to rectify my past errata, both on behalf of myself and my continent, I am closing with his email (edited to protect the innocent):
posted by kevekev.com
##
Pt. 1 - Tehran, Iran I'll say it again: it's nice to be back in stable Iran. Low crime, clean metro, dark lustful eyes everywhere. The fashion crackdown which made such huge news in the West (the "one article on Iranian society" quota filled for 2007, I guess) wound down before I got here. It was overblown in the first place, more of a show, though some of the women here are taking more precautions than last summer. Still, the allure of couture abounds - I saw a new Benetton shop yesterday in north Tehran. In Iran, people know how to pronounce "Iran." That's one thing they'll always have over Americans. Caught the death anniversary of Ayatollah Khomeini down at his shrine on Monday; it's like a Woodstock where everyone is fully clothed and crying a lot. I think Dennis Hopper still would have enjoyed himself. The erstwhile expat line here is that everyone who shows up at this annual event (at least 250,000+) gets a free ride and free food, thus people show up who don't "believe." I say "so what?" I went to Oktoberfest in Lincoln Square in Chicago and paid. What many Iranian liberals don't like to understand is that some section of Iran, numbering in the millions, is very religious, and they also understand that their ticket, meager as it is, lies with the government. Those who wish for a return to a monarchy should be careful who they call irrational, is all I'm saying. Did you know that Iran has allowed more refugees within its borders than any other country in the world, and has done so since the late 1980s? I did. Yet the US calls the movement of 70,000 Afghans back into Afghanistan an attempt to "destabilize the country." Last time I checked the US let in somewhere between 60 and 70 Iraqis into their borders in 2006, and told the rest "T.S." On the other hand, there's some serious brinkmanship going on here which is bad for anyone at all interested in rapprochement. But as I told a concerned citizen today, it's primary season in the US. That means lot of hot talk, no rocky the boat. Last word for now - a nota bene for international travelers: Passport holders, there are two kinds of stool softeners, one with laxative, one without. I think you know what's best. posted by kevekev.com Pt. 2 - Tehran, Iran
First, let me make a correction: Iran no longer has the most refugees within its borders, as it did after the first Gulf War. It is third in the world. Obviously their moral fiber is slipping. Second, my presumptive gastrointestinal mastery was pure hubris. A few days later I got a mild case of food poisoning with symptoms including pale face, ring tone, and lip grip. I was the Oedipus of cuisine for a while there. The gods have humbled me once again. I am still debating whether to continue drinking tap water. Last time I was here I went bottled all the way, but I have been assured that the Awb-e shirin (sweet water) from the tap is the mother of all waters. Frankly, it tastes much better. And I do not blame my bowelry woes on it - I was drinking it from the beginning. Iran has begun to raise the price of gasoline. It went from a subsidized price of 80 toman a liter (about 40c/gallon) to 100 toman (oh, say, 42c/gallon). There is now a limit or ration of gas for everyone each month, with an accompanying smart card to be read at the gas station and deduct accordingly. According to liberal types, this is not enough to make a dent in gasoline consumption, and thus driving, in Iran. But, you may say, Iran makes shitbunches of oil, why not subsidize it? Well, it doesn't make all the gasoline. A significant portion of Iran's oil revenues thus travel outside the country to import (about half) of its refined gasoline. Either it should build new refineries or reduce its consumption of gas. With a high estimate of 1000 new cars appearing in Tehran's streets each day, and a low estimate of ZERO cars becoming defunct (its so cheap you lose money by NOT driving), some type of change is needed. But, I am not - an neither should you be - against subsidies as a tool for public planning. They are great. And when power/gas is a main element of consumption by the poor, it should be subsidized for their benefit. On the other hand, driving like Mad Max is not the best goal for public policy. Iran's public transportation is good (better than Baltimore (high standards! -ed.)), but could get much better. I would be in favor of removing subsidies for gasoline only if it could be proven that one could get around as easily via public transportation. In many cases in Iran, this is not the case. And it's a credit to Iran that, unlike many Latin American countries who removed these types of subsidies under pressure from international financial bodies, Iran never got the neoliberal memo. It's pure statism here, baby.
posted by kevekev.com Pt. 3 - Tehran, Iran My body's sense memory is definitely short-term only. You know the solar sneeze, right? I get those occasionally, where for some reason you just sneeze when the sun's bearing down on you. But I forgot about the solar shit. When you step outside in 100 degree weather from a cooler 80 degree room, your stomach starts to play Merzbowel. God that's a bad joke. I could have gone with Fushitusha as well, for those keeping score.
That picture is of a traditional restaurant's amazing house band and their fabulous Cansafis-esque singer. Unfortunately pictures were not allowed so this is the best you get. There is a technique known colloquially (i.e. by me) as "cha-cha" where, after a good solid building of rocking the v-chords, the singer breaks the notes with his throat as he's running up and down some scale. Hard to explain, the closest I can get is Demetrios Stratos from Area. He did it occasionally.
posted by kevekev.com Pt. 4 - Tehran, Iran I was taking my afternoon nap today, staring at the ceiling, when a small earthquake hit. The ceiling sort of twisted before my eyes. It felt more like a wave going through me than the Star Trek 'shake the camera' effect. Powerful mojo. Then I heard screams and people running outside the apartment building. But women here scream a lot so it wasn't that big a deal. Are you supposed to run outside? (only if you're a girl! -ed., SF CA)
My Bahrain connection flaked, readers. Don't tell anyone but I'm going to chance it in Beirut - at least that's my feeling for now. One car bomb a week for the past 5 weeks is still not so bad if you do the math. I could get hit by a car in Tehran at probably greater odds. Plus, isn't it easier to get laid in those situations? You know, treat every day like it's your last day and all that? Yeah, that's my problem with women. Stability.
Went by the former American Embassy - notice the extremely damaged diplomatic seal. Yeah folks, it all happened here: Ted Koppel got famous and Reagan won in '80. The CIA documents inside that had been shredded before the takeover were meticulously put together by hand by revolutionaries in 1980, and then published in several volumes. As a result, the US had to change many of its codenames for famous celebrities such as Bob Hope, Liberace, and Tom Selleck.
posted by kevekev.com Pt. 5 - Tehran, Iran
My stomach is killing me this morning - shouldn't of ate that road sandwich yesterday. The floor toilet does little for these cases - better just sticking your ass out a window.
Before I head to hopefully cooler climates in northern Iran, let me take a few moments to puncture some bubbles of misinformation. Take a gander at the chart below:
Too often people compare poor countries with rich countries, and, seeing that poor countries do not measure up, deem them to be "in crisis" or "failed," or some other portentous word is thrown around by the NGO set. This is not the correct way to compare countries. Instead, look at a comparison of some indicators of Iran with both its neighbors and with other oil producing states. Take a look at Iran's poverty level in comparison to Turkey, Egypt, and, more importantly, oil-producers like Mexico and Venezuela. Only Malaysia, also an oil and gas exporter (though not in Iran's league), has comparable poverty alleviation. Iran's poverty levels began dropping after the Iran-Iraq war ended, thus the majority of Iranian poor saw their incomes rise after 1990. If you also consider that this occurred pretty steadily over the last 20 years, even as oil prices jumped up and down quite dramatically (10 bucks a gallon in the late 1990s (never forget! -ed.)), then it is even more impressive - this isn't shown in the chart but you can take my word. Iran therefore moved from a monarchy in the 1970s with Egypt-level poverty to a post-revolutionary semi-welfare state that at least lends enough support so that the majority of its citizens aren't dirt poor. There are still lots of lower class people and pockets of rich playboys, but that is not an Iranian problem, that's a global problem.
posted by kevekev.com I am pleased to present the latest in an irregular series of reports from abroad c/o kevekev.com as he once again spends his summer traversing the West Asian lands. What really happens! -ed. Pt. 6 - Mashad, Iran I have one remaining appendage without an injury. My right elbow got bloodied while hiking up a mountain. My left forearm got a bit shaved off when a rogue motorcycle started up under the amateur hand of its owner inside a bazaar here in Mashad. Luckily all those matador video games I played as a kid paid off and I emerged only slightly harangued and bruised. The best one, though, was when my right leg fell through a grate over a roadside gutter in Tehran; one of the bars was missing just enough space for my leg to fall through and get stuck at the knee. The topper was that a guard was standing about 20 feet away doing some schmuck job. I was literally stuck in a hole and he just stared at me. After thirty seconds of making a lot of noise I was free, no thanks to him. I "walked it off" for 15 minutes but then returned and gave this young man the biggest stink-eye ever thrown in Central Asian lands. With the mojo I laid on him, his loins are at least barren for life, and he may be shitting blood at this very minute. I still have a lump under my knee that is not going away, though. Who wins?
Mashad (NW Iran: pop. 3 million) is a holy city housing the shrine of Reza (Rida in Arabic), the 6th Shi'a imam, and is nicknamed "Mecca for the poor" (Shi'as only). I am here smack in the middle of pilgrim season - supposedly 20 million (a high estimate, I wager) make a trip here every year from inside Iran as well as other countries where large Shi'a populations exist. One may ask the question: why Mashad as the major pilgrimage site and not Najaf or Karbala where the 1st (Ali) and 2nd (Huseyn) Imams are buried? No, it's not because of Iraq or Saddam Hussein or islamofascism - it goes back further. My favorite explanation is this one: a ritual developed centuries ago involved the transport of corpses to be buried near the shrines of the Imams. Najaf and Karbala, under control of the Ottomans by the 17th century, were the choice sites. Naturally, such a ritual garnered along with it the economic realities of taxes, burial licenses, import duties, and the like. The Sunni Ottomans were the archenemies of the Safavid dynasty, who were situated in the territory of modern Iran and also were responsible for successfully promoting Shi'a Islam as a state religion in Persian lands. Not wanting to see their coffers sucked dry due to unnecessary corpse-trading, the Safavids began to promote Mashad as THE pilgrimage site to die in. 'Nuff said. Anyway, the Imam Reza Shrine Complex - and it is a complex - is more like a mini-state than a measly shrine. Basically it is the schmanciest mosque I have ever seen, and now the fanciest you have seen as well:
The only problem I had was that much of it was being restored, and I am more into old mosques that are not restored to the shiniest degrees. But the place is impressively run like a Mussolini train schedule. Even though pictures were forbidden, the attendants had a fluffy stick that they would tap you with if they caught you. A fluffy stick! Mashad is slightly cooler than Tehran, with the result that many of the tourists who come here in the summer are rich. I can prove this since I have seen more fat Iranian kids in the last 5 days than my 3 previous weeks in Tehran. It is hard to get fat here - you really have to work at it. Some of these kids definitely get capital As - as in "Ass" - for effort. They go to places like this new mall I wound up at on a sightseeing tour. Note the scary sun seven stories up:
The mall had its own Chinatown, twenty ice cream parlors, and not one bookstore (who says they hate our way of life? --ed.). I also went to a zoo. If you travel and have been to zoos in poorer countries, you know how depressing they are. Let's just say I was not amused at the Great Dane dog cage, or the ample number of cigarette butts seen in the chimp cage (note to Elvis: dogs are in cages because they're dirty like dogs). For those keeping score on my gastro-intestinal fantasy league, the last four days have been a continuous period of mild to intense stomach pains. Since these meal-time maelstroms have not subsided, I presume the culprit to be some sort of parasite in my guts. I have named him Wormer Herzog. He is currently in production on his new film, "Shitzcarraldo."
Let me close this missive with a rumination on the topic of the Mashad cherry - the most famous cherry in perhaps the entire world (unbeknownst to pesticide-addled American palates). This plump and robustly dark fruit, currently in season here (I know what you're asking: what's a season?) looks nothing like your mortal cherries of the West. It contains a novel ingredient: taste. Just look at it and sample the flavor:
posted by kevekev.com Pt. 7 - Tabriz, Iran Welcome, dear readers, back to Iran, where every corner is a Konspiracy Korner. So far I have heard some juicy ones, such as: Dick Cheney runs the world, the UK controls the US since they're smarter, and of course there's always room for the Jews to make trouble since they really run everything. Many reporters are quick to point to Iran and the Middle East's conspiracy mongering, and attribute this to cultural traits or historical bygones. I completely disagree. People here are certainly conspiratorial, but no more than the average joe in the US (here they just know more history). Just ask the guy next to you at the bar who he thinks is running the world.
Tabriz was an "identity" city for me - my father's family originated there. Located in the historical region of East Azerbaijan, Tabriz is full of Turks, speaking Turkish. Or more accurately, Azeri Turkish, which has a good mix of Persian words in it, but not enough to make sense to me (I hear the equivalent of the Muppets' Swedish Chef). When Mustafa Kemal Ataturk founded modern Turkey, to the west, he removed many of the Persian words as well as converted the Turkish alphabet to Latin letters from Arabic ones. As a result, Turks in Iran, who still speak Azeri Turkish (as well as those in Azerbaijan to the north) say that Istanbul Turkish has lost its ability to speak poetically. I'm not sure about that; Turks in Istanbul are not just grunting and mewing, so we might chalk that one up to Iranian nationalism.
Most Tabrizis spoke a fair degree of Farsi and I got around easily enough. The food there is the best in Iran, and I shoved it into my ailing stomach for four straight days. That's right, my guts were still churning after Mashad, and finally it stopped yesterday after I bought the generic anti-acid Aluminum MG. Ahh yass, when I think of soothing my stomach, I picture pouring cold aluminum down my gullet. Anyway, that little box on your Travel Yatzee scorecard for "ingestion of aluminum" can now be checked. Tabriz was the center of the 1906 Iranian constitutional revolution. Since it failed, I like to call it 'the revolution that got away.' Still, it was the first modern revolution in the Middle East and played an important educational role in shaping later Iranian history, specifically: don't let the Shah invite the Russian Cossack Brigade into your country and expect to win. I just love Russian Cossack Brigade jokes.
I also met some Aussie tourists who run their own natural cosmetic and body product company in Australia. They disliked Fosters and were not raving mad in that anti-Semitic way like Mel Gibson. Go figure. The couple embodied the kind of almost too nice, "I'm OK, you're OK" traveler that is necessary if you plan on spending more than a month going around Iran without knowing Farsi. I had an interesting run-in with a mullah who, impressed with my Farsi, assumed that I was not Australian. I told him I lived in America to which he asked, "Are you a Christian?!" I said hell no and that my father was from Tabriz (that implies that both he and I are muslims). Then he patted my bearded face and smiled his toothy grin and was happy. I let him be so. Not that I'm saying he would have speared me if I said I was Christian - I do not want to give that impression. Seeing as I met him in a museum and again at a poet's shrine, I'm guessing he's not one of the uber-mullahs. And he treated the Aussies with much respect. It's just that I get weird around clergy, no matter what religion. Unless it's at a bar and then they're on my turf.
One more important bit before I go - an anti-paean to the vocoder: Dear vocoder, There are no more microtones; just harsh robotic moves through the scales of cheesy pop atop incredibly dated techno beats. Vocoders do not make a person's voice more "romantic," "groovy," or "talented." To the contrary, the voice sounds shitty and I know that you know but you are not letting on because you hate all things beautiful. I was going to insert a Troutman joke here but the matter is simply too serious. Seriously,
My next entry (and last from Iran): why reporters can't find a good story to write on Iran even if it is vocoded for them. posted by kevekev.com Pt. 8 - Tehran, Iran
Back to smelly Tehran. Things got heady while I was away. Remember all that jazz about gasoline rationing I mentioned earlier? Well, the government put it into effect. The ration: 300 liters a month (less than a gallon a day), but you can buy up to six months of gasoline at once if you need to travel - but that 1,800 liter maximum is non-negotiable. As soon as this was announced, in a horribly mismanaged and unprepared way, Iranians everywhere rushed to the gas stations to stock up, assuming the worst. For some, it was an affront to their "way of life" and about 10-20 gas stations were torched. By the time I got back to Tehran every gas station had an armed soldier on duty and even longer lines than I had seen during my previous stay. Some youths told me that this might lead to another "18th of Tir," the massive student protests in 1999 that rocked Tehran. Perhaps a better analogy would be the 1989 Caracazo in Venezuela which was sparked by increased bus fares. Others in Tehran remarked how traffic was getting better in the last week due to the rationing. As for myself, I spent my last days in Iran choking on fumes; it seems that either the pollution has gotten worse or my lungs exfoliated during my vacation to the north.
Since I got out shit has gotten worse: former student activists planning a protest were arrested on the 18th Tir anniversary, a labor leader disappeared, and the government feels it has the upper hand after the gas mini-riots did not lead to much disruption. On the other side of the pond, half of the US gov't wants to attack Iran before the year is out, while the other half seems content to just not talk to them. Perceptions of Iran are perhaps more important than reality for the near future. Which leads me to the last problem on this list: the sorry state of Western journalism on Iran these days. Journalists spend two weeks in Iran, usually with Western-oriented liberals and in the wealthier regions, and then go back and write the exact same story every goddamn time. Iran is modern - amazing! Iran has a vibrant society - how about that! Dissidents and social activism occurs - go figure! Journalists spend paragraphs marveling at the availability of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Yet it is all set in a dark monotonous cast of an unchanging Iran. Frankly, I have a recommendation to editors who want to sent their ace reporters to Iran: just pick up a year old story and change the dateline. I assure you, nobody will notice. As a Brazilian journalist said to me in Tehran: editors think they know which stories are best, journalists think they know how to track down the story, and readers think they are getting the best news around. All the while everyone really knows that the whole thing is a superficial charade. I wouldn't even go that far - damn! posted by kevekev.com Islam in Yo Face! pt. 9 - Beirut to Cairo and Back
Beirut has at least two kinds of ruins: those from the 1975-1990 civil war, and those from last summer's war with Israel. The former can be found in almost all neighborhoods, with famous hotels still standing with chunks missing or bullet holes glaringly unpatched. The latter are confined mostly to South Beirut, in the heavily Shi'a neighborhoods where I recognized the presence of my Iranian 'roots.'
On the bright side, the cuisine here is amazing and a refreshing vegetarian retreat from my meat-ridden nightmares of a few weeks ago. Best fruit juices I've ever had - and note the variety of menu options:
I barely had enough time to get frisked in Beirut before I headed to Cairo for a wedding and some self-organized touring. No time to get into the details here, readers, but I managed to take this picture for my Pink Floyd fan fiction novel, Return of the Tin Ego:
You can't really get under a town's skin - especially one as big as Cairo - with two days of air conditioned 'point As to point Bs'. I prefer a good map, a list of places (but no snarky commentary a la Lonely Planet), and a pair of rested hoofs. Plus, I didn't know the prices of anything so I constantly thought I was getting screwed. It's like having a suburban dad in the back of your head all the time clenching his asshole.
Back in Beirut I spent most of my time watching a sixteen year old play God of War and Guitar Hero. Oh yeah, and I had a shot of absinthe. I rank the physical effects somewhere between bag huffing and staring at the sun. Tomorrow [note this missive rec'd 7/21/07 --ed.] I head to Turkey, where a delightful election on Sunday may result in a coup, an invasion of Kurdish Iraq, or the most stable democracy in the Middle East. What's the emoticon for 'holding one's breath?' posted by kevekev.com Pt. 10 - Baltimore, MD For those interested, the Turkish elections went boringly smooth. I managed to get some paranoid - though highly intelligent - rants on the elections out of some hippies who ran the hostel I was guesting at. They said that the party in power, the AKP is a dangerous group who are slyly in favor of "creeping Islam," which has been infiltrating Turkish society since the 1950s (after the Islam colonic that Mustafa Kemal Ataturk administered in the 1920s). Frankly, I don't buy it. I had a long time to think about my trip on the way back to the states (30 fucking hours from hippie door to my door), and I will leave you with my two big discoveries of summer 07 journeys: 1. If the place is not literally on fire, you can go there. When I told people in the US I was returning to Iran, everyone said "don't go, it's too dangerous." I went anyway. When I told people in Iran I was going to Lebanon, everyone said, "don't go, it's too dangerous." I almost listened to them, but still went. I can honestly say I was never in danger during my entire two months of travel. Moral of the story: if you want to go somewhere, do it. Don't listen to the news, the State Department, your parents, your barber, or even your bartender. 2. Islam is an interesting religion, but "Islam" cannot explain the Middle East. As a sociologist, I like to constantly point out how places and people have more things in common than differences, and that variation within a place is always greater than variation between places. That being said, variation exists - lots of it - and so if one is interested in understanding different ways of life, economies, and politics, one needs to explain social variation. However, going back over my musings this summer, I fully believe that "Islam" cannot perform this task. How to explain, for example, all the faction-based strife in Lebanon, or the success of the center-right AKP in Turkey, or the subsidizing of staple goods in Iran, or the shitty air in Egypt? If you answered "Islam" to any of those questions, you'd be an idiot. Rather, Islam - or, more accurately, the Islam of that place and that time - colors and contours the happenings of the Middle East. It's an old saw that everything in politics is local, but there's enough truth in that to tell Sean Hannity (or some cantankerous mullah) that Islam is not the answer to any serious question about this area. This is no different from any religion, of course. If I asked you why the US is in Iraq right now, would "Christianity" be a valid answer? Of course not, we can see right through that. But when it comes to Islam, most people in the States have a big black box in their brain and thus are vulnerable to the bullshit out there in the media. Islam is as stupid, interesting, and mysterious as any other world religion. Why should someone like me, who spent a good portion of my youth laughing at born-again Christians (and their rock bands in high school), be overwhelmingly deferent towards Islam? I read up on it, know the basics and can converse with the devout, but let's not get all weepy here. It's used and abused just like any other big set of beliefs. So, next time you catch yourself giving "Islam" as an answer to a question, check yourself. I want to personally thank to all the readers who sent me emails during my trip, which is incredibly easy since nobody sent any. Also thanks to Elvis who both convinced me to write, giving me an excuse to opine and work on my poo jokes, as well as edited my missives. I like a band who puts their friend's self-interested overseas jaunt over their own album release (still new! still un-sold out! --ed.). Joltin' Joe Biden (D-Delaware) tells a story like this: back in 2001, George W. Bush calls him up and asks Biden to "brief me on Europe." Biden asks why and Bush says he's going to Europe for the first time. Biden asks, "first time as President?" Bush replies, "no, first time ever." When you travel around the world (remember: Mexico, Puerto Rico, and Iraq do not count) you drop any and all bullshit about American exceptionalism real fast. It should be required before you get your driver's license or office in congress. Kudos to those with the ballz to do it. Now, I'm off to a shooting range in Maryland to take out some Osama-shaped targets. posted by kevekev.com
|
