lifestyle was now paraded as an exemplar of living. They felt close to this state, whose religious language they understood. Most had never been very political, but this integration provoked passionate support for the regime. It worked both ways. Their godliness proved useful, especially when the absolute rule of a spiritual leader was enshrined in the law, after Khomeini introduced the concept of
velayat-e-faqih
, rule of the Islamic jurist, a concept that gave him ultimate and unchallenged political authority over his subjects. With a God-ordained regime on their side, many in the Meydan had no need to question its authority.
Somayeh’s neighbours shared common values, such as the importance of a woman’s virginity before marriage and of modest
hejab
. Even though they varied in degrees of religiosity, their attitudes towards their faith were similar. But when it came to politics, they were divided. It was not a polarization of views, nor a simple division between those who supported the regime and those who did not; there were countless variations. ‘So you’re not still going to vote for that monkey,
Ahmagh-
inejad?’ was the ice-breaker from next-door neighbour Masoud, who had inserted the word
ahmagh
– stupid – in place of
Ahmad
.
‘At least he’s not letting
Amrika
bully us.’
‘At least he’s not a mullah,’ added Masoud, scooping up a handful of pistachios. Masoud not only prayed every day; he had also been to Mecca. Yet he despised mullahs. He blamed them for everything, from the bad state of the economy to corruption. Being from a
sonati –
traditional – family or a dutifully observant Muslim did not mean automatic support for the regime. Masoud believed in a separation between the state and religion. He did not support the absolute rule of the Supreme Leader. While the Islamic Revolution suited most of Masoud’s neighbours, his life had remained unchanged. Fatemeh shouted from the kitchen that mullahs were blameless and it was the politicians who were bad.
‘We’re in this mess because of those sly foxes, the English,’ said Abbas, the local greengrocer.
Engelestan
always got a bad rap, and the British were held accountable by Iranians of all political persuasions for a long list of crimes, including backing a coup in 1953 that ousted popular Prime Minister Mossadegh, and a widely held conspiracy theory that BBC radio helped bring about the downfall of the Shah.
‘It’s all of them, they’re all rotten to the core and Ahmadinejad’s the worst one of the lot. He knows nothing about economics and he’s going to be the ruin of us,’ said Ali, a
bazaari
trader of electrical goods whose wife and daughters wore the chador, yet who believed that
hejab
should not be enforced.
‘Ahmadinejad’s the best thing that’s happened to the country in a long time. The price of oil keeps going up, he’s straight-talking and he understands what normal people like us want,’ said Haj Agha. A group of women shouted out their agreement from the kitchen.
The conversation ran a familiar course, from politics to the economy to the sharing of personal misfortunes. Somayeh, like her mother Fatemeh, was indifferent to politics; but they were both devoted to the Supreme Leader, Ali Khamenei. Whatever the Supreme Leader would say, they would follow. Sometimes when they watched him on television they would be so moved by his words they would break down crying. The Supreme Leader was a saint; a representative of God and as sacred as the imams. Through his divine body the word of Allah was channelled. He was not sullied by dirty politics, for his role on this earth was pure: simply to ensure the law and practice of Islam. The Supreme Leader had taken over the mantel from Khomeini, who had rescued the country from moral corruption and who had saved the country’s poor. These two old men were Somayeh’s heroes and she could not abide criticism of them.
The women soon drifted out of the political discussions,
velayat-e-faqih
, rule of the Islamic jurist, a concept that gave him ultimate and unchallenged political authority over his subjects. With a God-ordained regime on their side, many in the Meydan had no need to question its authority.
Somayeh’s neighbours shared common values, such as the importance of a woman’s virginity before marriage and of modest
hejab
. Even though they varied in degrees of religiosity, their attitudes towards their faith were similar. But when it came to politics, they were divided. It was not a polarization of views, nor a simple division between those who supported the regime and those who did not; there were countless variations. ‘So you’re not still going to vote for that monkey,
Ahmagh-
inejad?’ was the ice-breaker from next-door neighbour Masoud, who had inserted the word
ahmagh
– stupid – in place of
Ahmad
.
‘At least he’s not letting
Amrika
bully us.’
‘At least he’s not a mullah,’ added Masoud, scooping up a handful of pistachios. Masoud not only prayed every day; he had also been to Mecca. Yet he despised mullahs. He blamed them for everything, from the bad state of the economy to corruption. Being from a
sonati –
traditional – family or a dutifully observant Muslim did not mean automatic support for the regime. Masoud believed in a separation between the state and religion. He did not support the absolute rule of the Supreme Leader. While the Islamic Revolution suited most of Masoud’s neighbours, his life had remained unchanged. Fatemeh shouted from the kitchen that mullahs were blameless and it was the politicians who were bad.
‘We’re in this mess because of those sly foxes, the English,’ said Abbas, the local greengrocer.
Engelestan
always got a bad rap, and the British were held accountable by Iranians of all political persuasions for a long list of crimes, including backing a coup in 1953 that ousted popular Prime Minister Mossadegh, and a widely held conspiracy theory that BBC radio helped bring about the downfall of the Shah.
‘It’s all of them, they’re all rotten to the core and Ahmadinejad’s the worst one of the lot. He knows nothing about economics and he’s going to be the ruin of us,’ said Ali, a
bazaari
trader of electrical goods whose wife and daughters wore the chador, yet who believed that
hejab
should not be enforced.
‘Ahmadinejad’s the best thing that’s happened to the country in a long time. The price of oil keeps going up, he’s straight-talking and he understands what normal people like us want,’ said Haj Agha. A group of women shouted out their agreement from the kitchen.
The conversation ran a familiar course, from politics to the economy to the sharing of personal misfortunes. Somayeh, like her mother Fatemeh, was indifferent to politics; but they were both devoted to the Supreme Leader, Ali Khamenei. Whatever the Supreme Leader would say, they would follow. Sometimes when they watched him on television they would be so moved by his words they would break down crying. The Supreme Leader was a saint; a representative of God and as sacred as the imams. Through his divine body the word of Allah was channelled. He was not sullied by dirty politics, for his role on this earth was pure: simply to ensure the law and practice of Islam. The Supreme Leader had taken over the mantel from Khomeini, who had rescued the country from moral corruption and who had saved the country’s poor. These two old men were Somayeh’s heroes and she could not abide criticism of them.
The women soon drifted out of the political discussions,
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