An Iran of grace

Iran is in the news, as it was four decades ago when I lived there with my husband. A civil engineer by profession, he was deputed by his company to work on a construction project, in the south-western city of Ahvaz. On our arrival, we were confronted with conflict.

In 1986, hostilities with Iraq were into their sixth year. Ahvaz was near the border between the warring neighbours and subject to aerial attacks. Zergan Nirougah, the power plant progressing under the supervision of my husband and his colleagues, was a prospective target.

Iraq, however, wished to avoid foreign fatalities. Thus, before every bombing mission, non-Iranian nationals would be cautioned not to venture out.

While my husband and I appreciated this consideration, it seemed unfair to the Iraqi pilots, who lacked the advantage of surprise as they flew over Ahvaz. Relatively safe indoors, we would hear the air-raid siren, warning us that danger was imminent. This would be followed by the sound of anti-aircraft guns. If there were Iraqi casualties, we knew nothing about them. 

What we did see, with regrettable regularity, were funerals of Iranian soldiers. Flag-draped coffins were borne in procession, and the photographs atop them revealed that those within were heart-wrenchingly young. The wailing of black-clad mourners mingled with the chants of onlookers. Jang, Jang ta Piruzi (war, war till victory) was the defiant cry, which rings in our ears to this day.

Many of our Iranian friends had lost loved ones, but they were brave in bereavement. Even as they endured what the poet Wilfred Owen describes as “the pity of war”, they were eager to make our stay in their country as pleasant as possible. Realising that we had never stood in queues to buy essentials, they would do so on our behalf, in the sweltering summer heat, to ensure that we did not suffer deprivation. 

Understanding our urge to travel, Homayun took us to Isfahan (famously known as Nesf-e-Jahan or Half the World), where his relatives welcomed us warmly. We explored that beautiful city and later visited Shiraz, once home to the literary luminaries Hafez and Saadi, and Hamadan, where the great philosopher and physician Ibn Sina (Avicenna) spent his final years. 

Today, the mere mention of Iran in the media takes us back in time. We remember with deep gratitude the people who showed us hospitality in that nation now in the news.