IRAN Journal of Architecture

Those of you who have photographer friends know that some of our time is spent wandering the streets, to earn a living and indulge ourselves. One day, I was walking in Sa’di Street when I saw some construction workers. It was not cold enough to kill the homeless, but they were standing around a fire to warm themselves up. They were broad-shouldered folk from Lorestan. I wanted to photograph them, remembering that famous song about the worker sitting by the gutter with a broken jug of water, not wanting to return home. With great sorrow, I continued south, to Cheraq Barq Street (or the famous Amir Kabir, which Hossein Makki tried so hard to rename, unsuccessfully). It was during the Arab mourning months of Moharram and Safar. I noticed a number of people rolling up a large photograph. I asked them what it was. They replied: “It is the Bein ol-Haramein of course” (this “of course” of course meant you silly thing). Of course, I had been to the Bein ol-Haramein Bazaar many times, but it had never occurred to me what Bein ol-Haramein was and why it was called as such. The youth explained to me that this is the Shrine of Imam Hossein (Peace be upon Him), and that is the Shrine of Imam Ali (Peace be upon Him). The space between these two Shrines is called Bein ol-Haramein [Between Shrines]. To be honest, I did not say anything; but I was ashamed of my own ignorance, living in a Shiite country and not knowing the meaning of Bein ol-Haramein. I continued on my way, arriving at the fake hubcap sellers’ patch. It was quite a shop. Apparently, the original hubcaps of posh cars cost a fortune. And, in order not to have their expensive hubcaps stolen, our nouveaux riches buy the fake ones from Cheraq Barq Street to replace the original, which the lady of the house keeps in the shed. It reminded me of the past. In the 40s (60s AD), gangs including many addicts used to steal car hubcaps. Car owners used to give these gangs a few pennies to have their hubcaps protected when they parked somewhere. In those days, these gangs were called “car watchers”. As nothing I do resembles anything anyone else does, and I was well-built in those days (reading the mid-summer sun report is a must), when I parked my car I used to call the car watchers, counted the hubcaps - of which there were four of course – and told the watchers that I had some work to get on with. I stressed that if a hubcap was missing when I returned, I would beat them up there and then until they were blue in the face, understood? And the car watchers used to think that I am either an army officer or the secret police (ex-SAVAK) and they watched their backs. Thus it was that no one ever dared steal my hubcaps. I must add that in those days, each car watcher had his own patch and they became involved in violent entanglements with each other to keep it. In reality, keymoney was paid for these patches if you know what I mean. I took some photographs of the people in Cheraq Barq Street to add to my We Iranians collection. The interesting point in these photos is the Diesel hat which was fashionable in the winter of 1384/2005. I also had an interesting encounter with this old man from Afghanistan. When I was shooting him, I asked where he was from. He answered “Kabul”. I asked “Kabul itself”? He said “near Kabul”. I asked what the place was called and he said “Mazar-e Sharif”. I told him he judged generously.

Iranians have a tremendous interest in hanging odds and ends to their car’s front mirror, or place cuddly toys, such as teddies, cats and dogs, on their dashboard or at the back window. I spent a long time working and photographing this mannerism of Tehranis. Time permitting, I will add it to this monthly journal. Because these two snapshots did not match this collection, they have been added here separately.

And so, the photographs which follow have a story of their own. It is not known why a group of people have confined Tehran City Centre to the restricted traffic zone and created a nuisance for its inhabitants. The excuse is that, the cars in the city centre cause air pollution. But, anyone with any intelligence soon realizes that this is nonsense, because the inhabitants of the city centre have no need for cars due to its interesting and excellent design. In contrast, the North enders each need four cars due to the distances they have to travel in that area. If anyone is to blame for the pollution, it is those living in the north of the city and not the centre. And so it was that, in the mid-winter of 1384/2005, this group of anonymous people decided to broaden the expanse of the restricted traffic zone. As a result, Tehran City Centre which was barely surviving the previous traffic zone met its maker. The photos to follow show the city centre between 3-4pm.

Anyhow, in the 60s (80s AD), the entire length of Cyrus Street (present-day Mostafa Khomeini), was inundated with market people who spread their odds and ends not only on the pavement, but also in the middle of the street on Fridays. The focal point of this event was the Seyed Ismail market place. One day, council workers stopped them from working there and took them to a car park in south Sa’di Street. A dark, airless and stuffy car park. Those who came to visit these stalls, came mainly to feast their eyes. But they suffocated in this car park. The council people were very satisfied with a job well done, until people slowly stopped coming and the council transferred the market to another car park in Istanbul Street. They stated obstruction as the reason. Of course, everyone in Tehran knows that if the obstruction workers want to do their job, they need to get rid of the motorcycles in the city. You only need to take a look at the pavements of Tehran to feel the essence of obstruction. The obstruction workers know that if only they had the courage to remove just one motorcycle for obstruction, they would not have a healthy bone left in their body. And so, the pedestrians of Tehran are forced to walk on the streets due to the harassments of the motorcyclists. Therefore, as you can see, the obstruction modus operandi is simply an excuse.

There were 2-3 days left to the New Year when I realized the market people had taken over the streets in the city centre and no one obstructed their business. It was a golden opportunity. I took my camera and got the following on film to record in history.