Other Countries Lived In: Germany, Mexico, Ethiopia, Austria
Type Of Woman:Traveler,Volunteer,Mother
Biography:I was born in a quiet village in Pennsylvania but have loved travel since "My First Foreign Affair" in Iran. I was married to an American foreign service officer and lived -addition to Iran- in Germany, Mexico (my favorite), Ethiopia, and Austria.
Each experience was enriching and enlightening and in its own way full of drama. After Iran and a quiet two years in Bonn, we moved to Mexico in time to experience a terrible earthquake and to be part of the wonderful way the citizens of Mexico City banded together to recover. Then off to war-torn Ethiopia which included a five month evacuation for my two children and myself... and finally Vienna.
My First Foreign Affair Continued
As summer turned to fall I went to work. My school was in the old section of town and I traveled there by bus. Our driver wove in and out of traffic using his horn to clear the way. Driving in Tehran was not for the fainthearted. Traffic lights were viewed as suggestions and gridlock was the norm. The Farsi word for crowded ’ shalook’ was understood by everyone and that word alone was accepted unquestioningly as a reason for being late.
I enjoyed the ride to school in the company of students who lived near me. The narrow streets in the old part of town were lined with butcher shops, bakeries, small shops and street venders selling their wares. Rock and roll music blared through many shop windows. The blend of old and new throughout the city was disconcerting and served as a metaphor for what happened during the next few months - a battle between the new ideas and old ways.
The school was located a few blocks from the government center. The student body was a wonderfully diverse group and included American kids whose parents worked for one of the American businesses present in Iran. The teaching staff was also diverse and the teachers’ lounge was full of energy, high spirits and a sense of adventure. I was contentedly getting accustomed to my new surroundings.
We did hear rumors around town suggesting that the Shah was ill and not capable of governing; and that there was discontent in the countryside. I learned that rumor played a large role in Iranian life. Not having a transparent government affords plenty of room for conjecture and speculation.
Then one day the Iranian military fired on and killed members of a group protesting in front of the central government building. Marshal Law was declared and my walkabouts were curtailed since it was considered unwise for women to appear on the street without a veil (chador). We spent more and more time in the apartment since we were directed by the embassy to ‘keep a low profile’. Taking any type of public transportation was discouraged and restaurants and theaters were off limits.
During this time the power of the Bazarris and the Clergy became clear. The Grand Bazaar was an ancient supermarket and the social and religious center for the lower and middle class. Well-to-do shop owners used their power and money to support the protests. In addition cassette tapes of sermons from an Imam residing in France were played in Mosques urging the faithful to return to a less secular time.
One autumn day parents started arriving at school to take their children home. Smoke could be seen in the sky over various parts of the city. It was quite clear that something ominous was happening. At the end of the school day the decision was made to keep the remaining children and staff at school since telephone reports indicated wide-spread rioting.
However at dusk the decision was made to allow the buses to take us home. We sped out of the school compound and immediately ran into a group of men and women in chadors coming toward us with bricks and sticks. Several times our driver backed down narrow streets to attempt another less dangerous means to get out of the old part of town.
When we made it to the main boulevard it was evident that large parts of town had erupted in violence. Bonfires fueled by papers tossed from government offices and western clothes from looted shops lined the streets. Angry mobs were roaming throughout the city while armed soldiers tried to quell the violence by setting up roadblocks.
Inside the bus I could hear a pin drop. We looked out the window at utter mayhem. None of the kids cried or carried on. I think we all knew we had to be quiet and let the driver maneuver as best he could through the chaos.
Every few blocks we were stopped and the driver questioned. Slowly we inched our way up the main boulevard swerving around the bonfires and rioters. We soon neared my little street where many of the ransacked offices and shops were located. The crowds and fires made it impossible to drop me near the apartment.
The driver asked a young girl to give me her jacket and he indicated that I put it on to cover my head like a veil so I wouldn’t attract attention. Then he opened the door. Since it didn’t seem the time to dawdle, I jumped off the bus and sprinted into the chaos. The part of me that was not busy running down the street toward my apartment was mesmerized by the scene before me. I didn’t realize until later that I was witnessing the early days of a revolution that would change the world.
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