Iran – A Journey into Our Common Humanity
An unusual and timely travelogue
Dear Friends,
I didn’t feel like writing anything this past week. Living as we do at the easternmost part of the Mediterranean, here in Cyprus we are as much part of the Middle East as we are of Europe. The recent unprovoked war of aggression by the US and Israel against Iran is having a profound effect on us. Whatever I was planning to write felt out of place when missiles and drones started filling our nearby skies, and an Iranian drone even reached the sovereign British bases on our small island. I have already addressed my inability to write anything political in the Trump Era, because everything I write seems to be an understatement. With the cold-blooded murder of Iran’s supreme leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei together with his wife and four other members of his family, including his 14-month-old granddaughter, we are actually exiting the “normal-abnormal” Trump era and entering completely uncharted and dangerous waters. Irrespective of where each one of us stands politically, we cannot avoid confronting the simple fact that Ayatollah Khamenei also happened to be the spiritual leader of 200 million Shia Muslims scattered around the world – the aggressors’ act was the equivalent of killing the Pope and his close relatives in the Vatican! Not to mention that this is the first time in history that a country has targeted and killed the enemy’s leader in his own home without declaring war – something that followed another first, the abduction of a leader of a sovereign country, Nicolás Maduro.
While all this is happening, I have confirmed anew what I already knew: that most of the world knows almost nothing about modern Iran and is therefore susceptible to utterly false narratives about the country and its people. Just as I was thinking of somehow addressing this by simply sending Rick Steves’s excellent travel film about his visit in Iran, my partner Jane came to my rescue! “That’s a great idea!” she said, “but let me augment Rick’s video with a short essay sharing our own experiences in Iran.” And here you have it. Today I am giving my platform to Rick and Jane to allow them to de-demonize the 93 million Iranians and their 2,700-year-old civilization (one of only three continuous civilizations that have lasted for millennia in the same geographical location, together with India and China).
I suggest you read Jane’s piece before watching Rick’s video above.
Nicos
By Jane Kayantas
Beyond raging wars, political conflicts, and socioeconomic disparities lies a thread that connects us all: our common humanity. We are all humans, regardless of nationality, culture, religious beliefs, or economic status. Our differences are woven together to create a giant, elaborate, beautiful tapestry that is humanity – our common tribe. This simple truth has been on repeat in my mind for over a week since the American-Israeli strikes on Iran shocked the world. Avoiding the messy, complicated global political arena, today I choose to focus on our common humanity and the universals that bind us together through the lens of our travels in Iran.
In 2009, Nicos and I traveled around Iran for three weeks as part of our world travels. At the time, the State Department was warning US citizens against nonessential travel there. Our cultural travels and exploration were definitely “nonessential.” For this and more, I was apprehensive about traveling to Iran. What if something happened to me? Would I be singled out and targeted for my American accent and mannerisms? Would I be able to blend in? On the other hand, when would we have this opportunity again? I was anxious yet also drawn to the unknown. Nicos, already a seasoned world-traveler, emboldened me to give it a chance and not be afraid. In the worst-case scenario, we could always change our plans and leave early.
As soon as we arrived, however, I felt a shift: Reality was very different from what I had imagined. On the morning of my first day in Tehran, I went to a shop to buy a “manteau” or an overcoat because I didn’t want to wear a chador. All women must cover their bodies and hair, so this purchase was a requirement. Donning my new manteau, we walked about the city, not knowing what to expect. And suddenly, the ordinary smacked us in the face! A modern busy city with its normal life unfolded before us: the hustle and bustle of cars and motorbikes, people rushing about their business, sellers hawking their fresh fruit, older men having tea at the local cafes. With its many 1970s buildings, Tehran actually reminded me of Athens. Feeling I was in familiar territory, all my initial fears dissipated. Gradually, I started observing many details I had not expected: the colorful manteaus many women wore that contrasted with the long billowy black chadors the Western media tend to show; their perfectly made-up faces framed by stylish headscarves that were often pulled back so that passersby could just peek at their coiffed hair; the men who walked hand in hand – a sign of friendship, not romance.
Leaving Tehran, our preconceived notions of the country faded bit by bit. The Islamic Republic was surprisingly secular. Yes, the muezzin’s call to prayer was heard five times a day, but not everyone rushed to the mosques to pray. Many Iranians just went about their normal activities. We also noticed a lot of wealth, attested by many fancy European cars on the roads and well-heeled Iranians in urban centers. The Western sanctions had stung the economy, but they certainly hadn’t destroyed it. Iran was also much larger than we had imagined. Seven times the size of the UK, Iran’s rugged mountains and extensive deserts seemed endless.
Traveling by car through the monotonous, barren landscape, we were thrilled to arrive in Kashan, an ancient city along the Silk Road, with its contrasting oasis. There, we visited historic houses with lush gardens, pools, and pavilions adorned with gorgeous geometric tiles. Strolling through Kashan’s old bazaar, we were transported by its lively colors and spice-infused scents to Scheherazade, the mythic storyteller. A fabric seller encouraged us to visit the bazaar’s rooftop, pointing to a set of stairs that took us to the multi-domed top overlooking Kashan’s old town. What a delightful surprise! Even more impressive was the ethereal city of Esfahan with its amazing Safavid-style architecture, the expansive Naqsh-e Jahan Square, and the Bridge of 33 Arches spanning the Zayandeh River. This city is pure elegance, as showcased by the signature Isfahan silk-woven carpets with intricate designs. But my most beloved was the old town of Yazd: Its mud-brick architecture and towering badgirs (or windcatchers) – an ancient form of air-conditioning – the meandering narrow alleyways flanked by high walls to protect pedestrians from the fierce sun, and the car-free old town’s permeating silence punctuated by the giggles of elementary school girls returning home all transposed us to the Silk Road of centuries past.
When we finally reached the famous Persepolis and walked around its ancient ruins, we felt we were somehow returning to our historical home. As Greeks, Nicos and I grew up learning about the Greco-Persian wars of the fifth century BCE and Alexander’s subsequent expedition to the heart of the Persian Empire. With the impressive tombs of Darius the Great and his son Xerxes hewn in the stone cliffs near the ancient city, we reconnected with our own roots. Our magical experiences reached their peak that same evening when I read aloud excerpts from Aeschylus’s play The Persians, which depicts the grief of the Persians in the capital Susa after their defeat at the Battle of Salamis in Greece. Aeschylus chose to show the Greek victory through the emotional and psychological distress felt by the Persians, thereby arousing compassion for the defeated in his Athenian audience – a truly revolutionary undertaking at the time. Aeschylus also explored the concept of hubris – its overreach and presumption – that led to the Persians’ downfall at the hands of the Greeks. Ironically, today the roles are reversed: It is the United States that risks hubris through its aggressive stance toward Iran.
Yet still, the country’s cities and sites, however interesting and enchanting, paled in comparison to the experiences we had with the people of Iran. We have never before nor since met more hospitable, open-hearted, friendly, and helpful people than the Persians. Almost everyone we encountered and briefly conversed with, in the streets or in shops, invited us for tea or welcomed us into their home for dinner. These were spontaneous, heartfelt invitations from strangers who really wanted to host us – not just to create a stronger bond with us, but also to learn about both our culture and our travels. Their genuine inquisitiveness and eagerness to make us feel at home was extremely moving.
A few scenes that stand out: In Tehran, we spent an afternoon at a cafe with university students, trading stories about our own university days and our recent travels in the Far East. Our conversation touched upon countless subjects, including the sanctions against Iran and the sincere longing for change that these students shared. Our tour guide, Ehsan from Esfahan, introduced us to the centuries-old Zurkhane (“house of power”), a traditional gym where men perform ritual exercises to the rhythmic beat of a musician’s drum and chanted verses from Hafez, Rumi, and Ferdowsi. Beautiful Zahra and her lovely teenage daughter, Yasmin, whom we met on a long train ride to Yazd, invited us to their home for dinner. A day later, we found ourselves sitting on a beautiful Persian carpet in the middle of their living room, feasting on kebabs, laughing and chatting until midnight.
Religious and cultural differences fell away as we connected on a human level and experienced what Nicos calls, in his book Destination Earth, the feeling of Universal Belonging. The more locals we encountered in our day-to-day travels, the more Iran ceased to be an abstract mental concept. Gradually, it became identical with the beautiful heart and soul of its people – each with a name, a story, a cherished memory. This excerpt from Nicos’s book is most pertinent:
There is an invisible connecting thread that goes through each one of us like a string through beaded pearls. Behind the masks, titles, and clothes we all wear, there’s a naked human body with functions we all have in common. There’s a human mind, emotions, and a human will that moves us. There are our common daily concerns, dreams, loves, and fears. By removing every surface mask, I feel I can communicate in depth with every human being. The human stare, the smile, the gestures, in spite of their infinite variations and quirks, belong to the common library of our shared humanity – to which each and every one of us has access and can read and understand.
Over the past week, I’ve been reconnecting to these vivid memories from our travels in Iran and thinking about the concept of universal belonging. I now follow the media updates with the strikes in Iran and the counterstrikes in Israel, in Lebanon, in the Gulf countries, and I suffer. I suffer for everyone involved, feeling connected with them through our common humanity: I am the suffering parents of the 165 schoolgirls who were killed in Minab. I am my friend’s Faranak’s cousin, living in Tehran, scared to death about a strike hitting my house. I am the newly displaced refugee in Beirut, fighting traffic jams to reach a safe place. I am part of a family fleeing to safety to hide in the underground shelters in Tel Aviv. I am next to my friend Leila and her husband Abdullatif in Bahrain, anxiously worried with every wailing siren in Manama. I am the petrified tourist who finally made it to Dubai only to shelter in my hotel, frantically searching for a way back home. I am them. They are me. We are one.
I leave you with an excellent short travel film about Iran (under the title above) produced for public television by Rick Steves, the most influential American travel writer and tour guide. In 2008, a year before our own trip, he had visited Iran to learn about its people and culture. He wanted to discover and experience Iran, often demonized by Western media, on his own terms. His experiences paralleled ours. He too left feeling mesmerized by a society that is so far from its misaligned portrayals in the Western media. Hope this video awakens the feeling of Universal Brotherhood.
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