Bitter goodbye party
Watching Khatami reacting to angry former supporters
December 7, 2004
iranian.com
History, never looks like history when you're living through it...
but it is, isn't it? Everything we go through and experience ...
all the pages of the BBC you open your eyes to in the morning...
that's what history books are made of.
I remember when a man by the name of Mohammad Khatami entered the scene almost
8 years ago. I was young - even younger than I am today - and in my mind's eye,
I didn't give a hoot. But I can still recall the daily debates out on the streets,
at family gatherings, amongst Iranians of all ranks, and sizes - even twirpy
8th graders my age.
And so a new era was born. I myself wrote 4 years ago halfway through it: "There
are those who call Khatami a faker, a fanatic who can only smile and mischievously
make promises he doesn't intend to keep. A person who bears no difference from
all the people in charge. Someone who by tomorrow will forget all the reasons
people voted for him. I will not argue their point. But ask a simple question:
what else was anyone to do?"
And although now, years later, we stand looking onwards, having not achieved
even half of what we were promised, I would repeat it all over again.
Today is 16th of Azar, "Rooz-e Danjeshoo" (Student Day) born because
of the three engineering students killed in demonstrations during President Nixon's
visit to Iran decades ago. President Khatami is coming
for
a talk right where it all took place: The faculty of engineering at the University
of Tehran's main campus.
This will be Khatami's last talk to the very students who
brought him to power 8 years ago; the last time he will face them during his
tumultuous political career as president of the Islamic Republic of Iran.
Eight years ago he entered this very hall to face nothing but complete and
total euphoria from the crowd.
Today, as the president was leaving the lecture hall amidst a thousand
angry, frustrated students chanting "Daaneshjoo bidaar ast, az Khatami
bizaar ast" (Students are alert and loath Khatami). It seems his era
has come to an end. What may be lurking ahead is not yet known.
As I run towards Tehran University's main entrance on Enghelab -- the
notorious doors on 500 Rial bills -- I come to face large crowds
of angry students
... and closed gates. They will not let anyone in. The guard standing outside
tells me to enter via another door - a half mile away.
Tehran University stands on a huge campus that runs all across Enghelab
Ave. And that does not include other campuses like engineering and
the humanities which are situated elsewhere. I
run, already
late for my class. But even from afar I can see a larger crowd at the other
gate. There are even more students there, shouting and yelling while a professor
from
the department of architecture is angrily arguing because they won't let him
inside the campus.
"The gates are closed for now. Go on. The lot of you," the guard
rudely yells. On "Student Day" students
are forced to stand outside long, iron gates and freeze.
I stand there, not knowing what to do. The students are getting angrier as
time passes. The guards pretend not to notice. Then, they slightly open
the doors
to let some people out and while everyone is shouting and yelling to be let
inside, I quietly manage to quiver in. And I run for it.
As I come closer to the huge glass doors of the engineering building, all
I can see is an ocean of dark heads and jackets. There goes my class.
The talk is being held in Chamran Lecture Hall on the second floor
and I can't make out why there would be so many people standing outside. There
is literally no room to throw a needle. The crowd is huge. As I squeeze my
way in, I see a large group of men standing on the main stairway to the second
floor.
Some have beards and have the typical Basiji look. A few I recognize:
guards from the engineering campus.
The students are angry. A student representative is yelling in
the microphone with frustration. He was scheduled to speak a quarter
of an hour ago but
even he was
not permitted to go in. He is shouting at "unidentified persnons on
the stairs" to
let the students come up. But alas, they indulge in
confrontation - and occasional fights - with the students trying to make
their
way in.
There are five stairways to the second floor, all blocked.
After a good half hour, I hear that one on the other end of the building, it's
easy to get through. I take my chances, and sure enough,
the
rumors were true. I freely walk to the second floor and head towards the hall.
From the top, I have a clear downward view of the crowd as well as those still
outside. The sight and size of them is enough to bring you to complete and
utter awe.
Young,
energetic, impatient faces ... and simply tired of waiting.
Outside the entrance to the main hallway, like cages at the zoo, they've set
up a huge metal fence with wires across it. Large groups of men are standing
behind the wires with torn clothes.
People are trying to get in through the space between the metal wires but
the men standing on the other side do not let them. They literally beat
the
crap out of anyone who tries to go through, thus the torn clothes.
One girl is beaten very badly. They kick her.
I manage to get out of the
crowd, although not unscathed: I feel a blow to my head from
somewhere. I guess now I can say that I too have been a victim in
the suppression of the student
movement.
The guards on the other side are not students. A student representative
tells me later that no one is sure who they are. Or what the barbaric
cage is supposed to mean.
I stand there for a good fifteen minutes, while one Basigi pretends to
keep making calls on his cell phone, without breathing a word. He constantly
turns the phone around, probably taking pictures with its camera.
Finally, I squeeze my way in without anyone
noticing.
The crowd inside is huge. Chamran Hall is unbelievably crowded. Some faint
under pressure and are carried away on the crowd's shoulders.
Now I see why more people should not be permitted inside.
But using
wires and violent men? Why not use a larger venue?
 Khatami is sitting amongst a large
bouquet of red roses, talking. But the crowd does not let him speak for
more than a few minutes at a time. They stop him
with cheers and applause, boos, chants or shouts -- depending on what he
is saying.
He tries to calm them. He tries to justify the things they are angry about:
the parliamentary elections, their unsatisfied wishes.
When they stop him
with
loud chants of "Referendum" Khatami says: "This is the first
time in recent history of this nation that you stand opposite a government
representative
and shout what you wish. If this government has not had any other success,
this one alone is on and by itself a huge accomplishment."
To which
chants turn into loud applause. They do the same when he tells them: "Those
who claim a foreign power can be our only savior are clearly wrong and
simply ignorant."
They boo when he mentions certain authoritative names in the establishment.
When he starts speaking of the last parliamentary elections they stop him
with loud chants of: "Jannati, to doshman-e mellati". (Jannati,
you are the enemy of the nation)
At this point, Khatami thinks they are
chanting
against him. He says: "You all stand as representatives of the
nation. If you think I am your enemy, then I have no choice but to agree."
Then somebody
goes to whisper something into his ear. Then he says: "I'm sorry.
I think there was a misunderstanding. I thought you were talking about
me." And
that's the last word he utters about the elections.
Khatami does not stay very long. He leaves after a short while.
Once outside, people start going up the metal fence, despite
shouts from the guards who tell them to wait for the fence to be brought
down. Loud thuds echo as fences drop down everywhere. There
is broken glass all over the place. I
hear one boy's face was badly injured by the glass earlier
in the day, when
the main
entrance
to the engineering building was also closed.
 Amidst thousands of hot, breathless students I
just stand watching. Some are laughing with their friends, some
are speaking on their phones. Eating
lunch, singing "Yaar-e
Dabetaani" - a song played on the speakers
after Khatami leaves. But most are trying to digest what they had
witnessed. They are not quite happy. But more than anything, they are
confused; unsure of what has happened and
completely uncertain of what tomorrow will bring.
.................... Say
goodbye to spam!
*
*
|
