I am not Iranian.
In my 30 short years I have met many people from many places but I cannot claim to have many Iranian friends.
I have never been to the Islamic Republic of Iran, partook in a meal of Tabrizi bread, or heard a recital of the Sufi poet Rumi.
I am not a Muslim.
I have never heard the adhan on the streets of Tehran, or made pilgrimage to the holy city of Qom.
I am not a historian.
I have not walked among the ruins of Persepolis, or stood in the iwan of the Blue Mosque in Tabriz.
I am hardly a political activist.
Until a few days ago I knew very little of the state of democracy in Iran, or the convoluted political apparatus of the Islamic Republic.
But on June 13th I watched in awe.
In response to election results, so implausible, so ridiculous, so blatantly fabricated the people of Iran took to the streets. In silence they marched, hands raised in the air, flashing victory signs. Their wordless protest a physical manifestation of a single question:
"Why bother to have us vote, if you have already decided who will win?"
On June 14th I saw the Iranian government's reply to it's citizens.
With truncheon and stick, with knife and gun, they beat, stabbed and shot. With threats and acts of violence, with press restrictions, phone and internet disruption, they attempted to stifle this impudence.
And the next day? Still they marched! With every new day the crowds were bigger, in a sea of green measured in miles, these brave people, these men and women, students and shopkeepers, conservatives and liberals, defied their government.
The first two words in Iran's national motto are "independence", and "freedom". How unfortunate then that in the sermon given this Friday by the Supreme Ayatollah Khameni, he threatened to take both away from citizens who march tomorrow. This man of God, the appointed leader of his people, has publicly given the green light to let slip the restraint the government has shown so far.
And still they will march.
Tomorrow, many will die. I cannot imagine the terror in the hearts of the protesters. The knowledge that a government that has no legitimate leg to stand on has now dropped all pretense. There will be no negotiations, no bargains will be struck. Hearts have been hardened, lines have been drawn.
I think many of you have probably read the following translated post from
http://balatarin.com/... but I include it below:
"I will participate in the demonstrations tomorrow. Maybe they will turn violent. Maybe I will be one of the people who is going to get killed. I’m listening to all my favorite music. I even want to dance to a few songs. I always wanted to have very narrow eyebrows. Yes, maybe I will go to the salon before I go tomorrow! There are a few great movie scenes that I also have to see. I should drop by the library, too. It’s worth to read the poems of Forough and Shamloo again. All family pictures have to be reviewed, too. I have to call my friends as well to say goodbye. All I have are two bookshelves which I told my family who should receive them. I’m two units away from getting my bachelors degree but who cares about that. My mind is very chaotic. I wrote these random sentences for the next generation so they know we were not just emotional and under peer pressure. So they know that we did everything we could to create a better future for them. So they know that our ancestors surrendered to Arabs and Mongols but did not surrender to despotism. This note is dedicated to tomorrow’s children..."
So tonight I weep.
I weep for the children of Iran.