Backpacking in Hijab and Manteau

25Feb07

Published Sept/Oct, 2007 in Transitions Abroad Magazine

Those who knew about my plans to follow in the footsteps of Marco Polo along the old Silk Road shook their heads in disbelief when they heard Iran was also on the itinerary.

The image of Iran has long been negative in the foreign press: harsh and hateful words of Khomeini and those who followed him, towards the West and Israel; oppression of women forced to wear a chador in public and without the same rights as their husbands, brothers, and fathers; public beheadings and death sentences for homosexuals; and more recently, Iran’s nuclear activities.

When we cross the Turkey-Iran border, all the women of our small expedition have to conform to the prescribed overcoat and headscarf. Some Iranian women, dressed in black chadors, approach us in the customs waiting room with big smiles on their faces, amused about our obvious struggle to keep our scarves from sliding off. They help us cover our heads the “Iranian” way, take pictures left and right, want to know where we are going, give us travel tips, share their food with us, and keep waving enthusiastically until we are practically out of sight.

This mix of kindness, openness, curiosity and hospitality will follow us wherever we go, whether in Kurdistan in the north, in the capital Tehran, in the mountain villages, the nomad camps in the desert, or in the more southern cities of Esfahan and Shiraz. 

In spite of being partly hidden, we foreigners are spotted from afar because of our backpacks, shoes, and cameras. It often prompts young and old, male or female, to wave at us and call out “Hello, where are you from?” or “Welcome to Iran!”, hoping to strike up a conversation or simply show their knowledge of some English words.

Where we had expected a rather stand-offish attitude or anti-Western anger from a rigidly policed nation, we encounter quite the opposite. People have no qualms discussing personal, political, or religious matters with us, and they eagerly inquire about our lives in the West. Many have cell phones, are very capable in managing the computer, and regularly tune in to CNN or BBC. Although radio, TV, and papers are censored and sometimes shut down, the power of the Internet can no longer be ignored.

During my month-long stay in Iran, it becomes quite clear that this country certainly does not live in the Middle Ages. But if Iran is slowly moving toward a democracy or a separation between state and religion – as some Middle East experts predict – this process of change does come with some striking contradictions. Notices of sentences such as 100 lashes in public for women who violate the dress code (covering hair, neck, ankles, and body curves) exist next to young women with perfect make-up, dressed in tight jeans, high heels, and fashionable, colourful shawls that leave their hair partly uncovered.

And while modern Iranian women conform to the law in their own way, their brains are working faster than ever. There are currently more women than men in Iranian universities. Women compete heavily with men in the job market, get more say in politics, and drive just as maniacally as their male counterparts.

According to Sherwin Nekuee in his recently published book The Persian Paradox, 65 percent of divorces in Tehran are now demanded by women. 

If the Iranian public life is still in the hands of rigid religious leaders, the majority of Iranians leave their public face at their front door. Inside their own houses, they eat, drink, dance, watch TV and DVD’s, and debate just like we do.

Alcohol is of course strictly forbidden, but nearly every Iranian knows how to get it anyway. The art is, however, not to get caught, because this will lead to a 2-month jail term, plus many lashes on top of it.

“Iran was better before the revolution” says our English speaking mountain guide Nadar from central Iran. “But we are patient and hope that change will come”. A student we meet in a traditional water pipe and teahouse in Sarandaj, expresses himself in a more rebellious way: “I would not mind if Bush invades our country. We don’t trust our religious leaders any longer, and change is needed. But it would be easier if change would come from the outside”.

Our taxi driver in Shiraz just shakes his head when we ask him for his opinion. He is more worried about establishing a good price for driving us around. As his English is limited, he has called his brother who immigrated to Manchester, England, to negotiate for him the proper deal with us by cell phone.

Nesa, a young girl we meet in one of the lovely parks in Esfahan, seems to be a perfect example of Iran’s current paradox. Properly dressed in her black chador, she diligently attends English classes every night, dreaming of a bright future. When we visit her at the modest home of her parents the next day, she is sporting jeans, T-shirt, and  a modern ponytail. On the wall of her bedroom, a huge poster of her hero Leonardo DiCaprio hangs next to a portrait of the prophet Mohammed. Eating and sleeping is still done on Persian carpets on the floor, but a computer dominates the room from the only piece of furniture, a small dresser. There, Nesa has already downloaded more Hollywood movies than I have ever seen in my entire life.

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Tags: chador, iran, silk road