WG: Glimpses of Tehran - Part 2 - Ken Gibbs

The background is not
an assassins' castle

This part reflects some of our activities as we were winding down when it was clear that there would be no refugees coming to Iran following the start of the Second Gulf War in 2003. We were a small group, led by a woman who was the best coordinator by far that I met during my post UNICEF staff days. We were looking to make arrangements to allow for pre-positioning for emergency supplies and for possible suppliers for emergency (NFI) items for possible disaster situations. It was clear that Iran has a wide industrial base and would benefit from being listed as a preferred supplier of some emergency supplies.

In between times, we took the opportunity to explore the local area while our return journey was being secured. As I was now on the UNICEF payroll, I was not tied to the OXFAM return bookings – except that the last OXFAM staff member was a woman who had no Farsi, leaving me to be her chaperone. Luckily, we both were aiming to go through HeathRow. My diary entry for the day that Avice arrived – the Brummie (a resident of Birmingham, England) – is interesting:

"Every cloud has a silver lining. This one is Avice."

"She's 55+, Brummie, tiny, feisty and good fun. She walked into the office and despite the fact that she had not been met at the airport, nor had had a room booked at the hotel, she had Nasrin eating out of her hand and purring in five minutes flat. I wish I had the Brummie touch."

More about Avice, later.

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Which reminds me. I helped Mercy Corps, Iran, the other day by doing an estimation of costs for them. They are an NGO and we all are aiming to help Iraqi refugees, so why not help if I can ?

Well, they were so happy that I had responded that I was taken out to dinner. At the end of the evening, I was handed a rather scruffy plastic bag and told to put it in my pocket till I got to my hotel room. When finally I opened the packet, it was a 330 ml (⅓ of a litre) can - yes, a can, not a bottle - of pure vodka.

I kept the can until two days ago when four of us were celebrating. The vodka tasted excellent, I have to say, even though I've never met it served this way. I was told that this can is often consumed by one person. However, in England, you are permitted to consume 2 units (20cc of alcohol) before driving, but if you exceed this limit and are measured with more than 2 units in your blood-stream, you are automatically jailed. The can of vodka contained no less than 16.5 units of alcohol. Wow !

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The work with UNICEF appears to be going well. I have been working with a young and exceptionally dynamic Frenchman who is far too good for UNICEF and he asked me to do a critique on a proposal he had prepared about working cross border. I did so and made a number of suggestions and because it is cross border and because UNICEF on the other side would be involved, I took the opportunity to copy the proposal and my commentary on it to the UNICEF Representative in Iraq, Carel de Rooy whom I have known for many years to make sure that he knew what was going on. I did this directly and copied the message and all its attachments to the UNICEF Representative here in Iran noting that I hoped I had not broken any code by doing it this way.

Obviously I had. The UNICEF Representative in Iran wrote briefly to this effect (quite diplomatically) which was followed by a flood of information from Carel himself which we had all been trying to work out how to get; so it seems my 'misdemeanour' has had the desired effect. Old age has some benefits; and it's an ill wind. . . . . . . .

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Yesterday, I went with the whole team to Darband, in the north of Tehran, hard up against the mountains. It was fun. Because this was an ad-hoc affair, Avice came in inappropriate shoes, and so I kept her company on the lower slopes which saved me from having to pretend that I love climbing to great heights. While this was happening, Jack and Mary went to the top of Towchal in the Tele-Cabin (cable-car) and we met them in Darband for lunch. After lunch Mary decided she wanted to smoke a hubble-bubble so we went to a place where women are allowed to do such things and found ourselves next to a very lively group of women who turned out to be teachers smoking their own hubble-bubble. We chatted. They disturbed us a bit because they seemed to be hoping that the USA would unseat the Iranian Government which, on mature reflection, is probably exactly what they were saying. They want to be rid of the 12 'Guardians' who apply the Sharia Law and Constitution on everything which is 'proposed' by the Majlis (The Parliamentary body).

My Farsi was stretched well beyond its limits until two young women joined the group and it became even more lively. It was only after chatting for a while that I discovered that one of the two younger women could speak a very passable English. She is only 16 and never been out of Iran. Then some men joined the party - a couple of whom are teachers at the same school. This must be an interesting school as the relationship between the teachers and their pupils is very, very easy. There is absolutely no disrespect but the pupils seemed to be encouraged to participate in all conversations, and to defer if they felt they wanted to.

Now move on to today after we had said farewell to Mary and John. Jack Jones, Avice and I immediately set off for the Carpet Museum. Forget the rather tawdry specimens we saw when we were here last - the only way I can describe it now is 'stunning'. The carpets range in age from 500 years to a few years old; and most are silk. They are in exquisite condition. They have a few gelims and absolutely no village woolen carpets. The guide who just appeared when I asked a rhetorical question and who could speak a reasonable English, took me under his wing and gave me the full works. My head aches from all the detail, but if I get a chance, I want to pay a second visit with camera. The guide said they keep no village carpets because they 'are good for you to buy'. Obviously a diplomatic way of saying that they are too cheap for display. What a pity because if they paid as much attention and care to the village rugs as they do to the rest, I am certain they would have a world-beater. A memorable event indeed.

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The next (following a bleat from Avice) was to take her shopping. John Kerr and I are both of a mind to avoid shopping at all costs but I am sure that we'll be dragged through the bazaars in the wake of this diminutive clone of Giles's mother/mother-in-law. While she's not as wide as Grandma, she's only missing the brolly. God help Tehran bazaaris. In fact, Mina (the translator) took us to gold alley in the bazaar where Avice found a bangle she liked ($80) which she bought. We wandered into other areas and it was like an Aladdin's Cave in places. There were emeralds on display that I didn't believe were real they were so big, but I am assured that they are Bolivian and genuine.

Well, while Tikrit is being bombed back into the middle ages, I must make my way up to UNICEF to see whether their thinking about us has changed; and to see if I can research the assassins' castles. Perhaps this could be a side trip while we are waiting for OXFAM and UNICEF to decide that we are no longer needed ?

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