Busted

Have you ever walked among an army of Wargs, Easterlings, Goblins, Trolls, Orcs and their kin, the Uruk-Hai? That is how the battle of 22 Bahman played out for us. We spent a short time walking quietly past legions of government goons as they growled, grunted and drooled, until they took one of us in and forced us to split. There was no battle, no demonstration, and no sign of celebration either; just a short walk in the field.

When we hit the streets early in the morning, they were eerily empty. You don’t see Tehran so empty even during Eid, the New Year holidays, which was a sign that deeply worried us. With expectations over 22 Bahman set so high, we knew if the anticipated number of people were to show during the demonstrations, the streets should be bustling. It wasn’t so.

What was really worrying was not just the absence of cars moving about, but it was the fact that the streets were devoid of them altogether, even parked ones. So it seemed the case wasn’t one of people deciding to sleep in and forget the protest, but that they appeared to have left town. Tehran was a ghost town, but no matter. Perhaps we were late and they had already begun.

We drove toward Enghelab Avneue, and as we got closer, the streets were still empty of people and their cars, but the density of security forces was increasing (I mean their numbers. Their other level of density is high and flat.) At first we saw them from square to square, then intersection to intersection, and finally street to street, in larger and larger numbers. No matter again. We’ll get to Enghelab and walk.

We parked on a street somewhere north of Enghelab and some distance east of Sharif University, and started walking south. When we got to the main street, we realized the day was lost. On the sidewalks – sometimes on both sides of the sidewalks – security men stood in a line that had no end on either direction. There were all kinds of them, IRGC anti-riot, Police, Basij, plainclothes, cameramen, clubbers, gassers, paintballers and nasty onlookers, and this wasn’t even Enghelab Avenue yet.

Under normal circumstances it is the people who stand on the sides and watch the armed men of their country parade before them. 22 Bahman was the other way around. We looked about and tried to spot greens in our little promenade, and although none dared display anything remotely green, they were there. In fact, with the exception of Sauron’s army, and the few flag-bearing, sleep-walking pro-government families, everyone else was green. We even met some friends and acquaintances along the way. Of course we didn’t dare stop and greet them with our emotions pouring out as we normally do in Iran, and were happy to just whisper as we walked along, asking what was going on.

The temptation to leave the area right after getting there was great, but we decided to walk a little more and maybe turn south and try to get to Enghelab. Besides, turning around was suspicious, scary and not an option. We had to continue at least to the next intersection and go around the block if we wanted to get back to the car.

We passed one intersection and decided to continue and see whether we can make our way through to Enghelab Avenue. As we walked we came to a spot where about twenty police officers were standing in a group with two vans parked next to them on the street. As we passed through them, we were stopped and one of them ordered another to search us.

A very close friend – a brother really – was first. As I stood behind him waiting my turn, the officer patted him down and then proceeded to empty his pockets. First came out a wallet, then his mobile phone and a set of keys, and finally from his jacket’s side pocket, a thin green wristband.

The officer immediately ordered another to take my friend in. I froze. As he was escorted inside the van, I could only watch from the side while a thousand thoughts turned in my head. Should I do something? Maybe beg them to leave him. Only this once, please. He will never do it again, I swear. Could I do something? If I were associated with him, they’d take me in without bothering with a search. Oh my, the search…

I looked around. The police were busy taking my friend in, or searching others, or searching for others to search, and they seemed to have forgotten me. I had to make a snap decision, so I walked. No one called, and I kept walking. Further down, I regrouped with the others. Another one was missing. “Did they take him in too?” I asked. “No they didn’t. They didn’t even search him, but he changed direction somewhere and disappeared.” When we found him, he told us that he had gone inside an alley and dumped his bag of medical masks and all his green gear.

It was now time to get out of the area and put our post-arrest plan into action, so we walked back to the car. Before a demonstration, we are supposed to have cleaned our lives of all the incriminating evidence that may lead us to the gallows in case we are arrested, namely any corrupting music and movies, computers, dangerous books, and any artwork deemed too complex for Neanderthals to understand. If we don’t have enough time to clean up before a demonstration, which was the case with our friend this time, we leave our keys with someone who does not attend.

It was like clockwork. We split into two teams, got our friend’s keys, cleaned his house, cleaned his office, stored away all his shameful belongings, called his father to let him know, and were done in three hours.

We had expected too much of 22 Bahman, and we had underestimated the number of security forces the government would place in Tehran. The regime’s strategy was to prevent any form of demonstration through a large show of force, and almost indiscriminate arrests. I can’t tell how many were taken in on 22 Bahman, but we witnessed more arrests compared to other demonstrations.

Thankfully, with the exception of Sadeghiyeh, violence did not break out on the streets of Tehran as some had expected, and the greens remained peaceful, but disappointed. The greens did show in large numbers. Perhaps not the expected three million, but there was a lot of them out there. Most came and left the scene when they saw the number of security forces, and others like us were forced to leave when members of their groups were apprehended.

The biggest surprise to me though, was the small number of government supporters that showed up. This could have been their day. They had the full support and protection of the security forces, and the government had brought in people from the provinces to add to its supporters in Tehran. That’s why we were picturing a face-off between vast armies of pro-government and opposition members on 22 Bahman. Instead, we only saw small and scattered groups of government supporters among the greens, trickling down toward Enghelab Avenue, carrying a picture of the supreme leader or Ahmadinejad. Their numbers didn’t even compare to Qods Day.

The next phase for us was to find out where our friend was, which I’ll have to put in another post to avoid making this one too long.