It Will

It has been a long time and I would like to ignore the reasons for it and go straight to a belated post on 16 Azar:

We started to roam around Tehran University at about 4 PM, looking for some action, but the protests were confined to university campuses. The atmosphere was tense, as if the dust had just settled after a fight and we knew there had been some skirmishes here and there in the area, but it seemed like we managed to miss them all. In the end, our role was reduced to jamming the traffic and sitting in the car motionless for long long stretches of time, smoking, honking and cussing, and occasionally blocking the movements of Basiji bikes. From time to time we’d see buses pass by on Enghelab Avenue loaded with people who were screaming slogans and disappearing into the darkness.

People did show, to a smaller extent compared to other protests, which was mainly because 16 Azar was viewed as “a student thing”, and just like us, most of those who showed stayed in their cars too. There was no other choice. There were countless security men standing next to their vans and buses, at every intersection around Tehran University.

But you already know all this. You also know that the 16 Azar protests were intense inside the campuses and the fact that it hasn’t really ended yet. So, instead, let me tell you about the piece of action that we finally got: a verbal fight in a bakery.

Sometime around 6 PM, we saw a Sangak bakery in one of the back alleys off Enghelab Avenue, and thought it would be nice to get some hot Sangak. As we stood in the queue, my friend who was more upset than I about the lack of a large protest, asked the baker:

“So how much does a Sangak cost these days?”
“Five Hundred Tomans. (About 50 cents).”
“Ahh…that’s it then. We need to wait a little longer.”
“For what?”
“For bread to hit two thousand Tomans. For the knife to reach the bone (meaning extreme hardship).  That’s when everyone will hit the streets again, not just students.”

A woman behind us turned red and started yelling:

“What do you mean? The knife has already hit the bone. Five hundred is a lot of money for bread! They’re already selling for a thousand at some places.”
“But not enough people are showing at the protests. There are only students today.”
“I showed. I’m here. I tried to protest. Did you see how many security men were out there?”

At this point a man in his early sixties with a trim goatee, who was further down the line said:

“You’re wasting your time. Nothing will change.”
“Why won’t it?”
“That’s how it is with this country. They’ll remain in power and there’s nothing people can do.”
“Exactly as you said. Look at this country. We’re having a major change every thirty or forty years. No?”
“Not until somebody out there wants change. That’s when change comes. So you can go home and save your energy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Until America and Britain want to change this place, nothing happens.”
“Aw…come on, that’s ridiculous.”
“No it’s not. Look at history.”
“Good then. Just stand on the sidelines as usual and forget about it. But don’t say it won’t change.”
“It won’t.”

After a few more similar declarations from the gentleman, the argument got heated and voices were raised. Someone shouted that the gentleman belonged to the generation that got us here, and that he was taking this line out of shame. After this I don’t know who said what to the man, but it went like this:

“You can’t even reason, you just keep saying if so and so want it.”
“You don’t need reason, that’s how it is. It won’t.”
“Yes, it will.”
“No, it won’t”
“It will.”
“It won’t.”
“It will.”
A voice from another side said:
“Maybe if you wait long enough, Emam Zaman (the twelfth Imam) will show up and fix it for you.”
Everyone laughed.
“Won’t.”
“Will.”
“Won’t”
“Will.”
The baker suddenly chipped in:
“Stop arguing. I had dinner with Emam Zaman last night and he told me it will. End of discussion.”

We then got some cheese from the store next door and were on our way to sit in the hellish traffic for another two hours.