After pouring water on each of the seven stone tombstones that identify the graves of unknown soldiers and placing roses on each of them, Faezeh kneels, opens the Quran that he has taken from a small wooden bookcase and prays out loud. .
Around her, three other women, younger and also dressed in the black chador, repeat the same ritual in this small mausoleum located in Khorramabad, dominated by photos of martyrs from different wars that the Islamic Republic has fought since its beginnings: that of Iraq in the eighties, that of Syria in recent years in which Iran has supported the Bashar al Assad regime and the one that it has secretly waged with Israel and the United States for decades.
“We try to come frequently to thank them for what they did for us, to tell them that they are not alone,” explains Mohamed, Faezeh’s husband, who waits for his wife to finish the prayer leaning on a column in which she stands. a life-size photo of Qasem Suleimani, the commander of the Qods forces of the Revolutionary Guard who was killed by a US drone in Iraq in 2020. His photo, like those of hundreds of martyrs, adorns lamp posts and city ??walls.
Mohamed speaks quietly so as not to interrupt his wife. “Lately, we ask the martyrs not to have another war. May our rulers not fall into Netanyahu’s trap. Here we would pay a high price again,” says this 52-year-old man dressed in a gray suit and a small mustache who identifies himself as a university professor and analyst for a small local newspaper in Lorestan, this region in western Iran very close to of the border with Iraq.
The lords are part of one of the country’s ethnic minorities, many of them located in the border areas, as is the case with the majority of Kurds, Baluchis or Arabs. “Here we are still a society in which families belong to tribal clans, the men are strong and many know how to fight,” he explains, later adding that this city, Khorramabad, suffered enormously in the war against Iraq.
Many men were enlisted, many died and there was great destruction. When the planes failed to reach Tehran or the interior of Iran and returned to Iraq, they dropped bombs on their houses. Not far from where we talked, the authorities display tanks and cannons from that war. “Today the city is much larger, but it is marked by many problems, especially economic ones. No work. “Part of the population feels abandoned,” he says.
Mohamed points to one of Iran’s most sensitive issues, the regime’s relationship with border regions inhabited by ethnic minorities. Historically, authorities have considered them an issue of national security. Here, the pressure on the population is much greater than in other parts and so is the feeling of abandonment by the State or, at least, of not being treated in the same way as other central provinces of the country.
Likewise, they feel that they are the ones who would pay the highest price in the event of war. It is not for nothing that in many of these regions there are large military bases, which are used to launch missiles and drones. It was explained by Husein, a 32-year-old man, who like thousands of young people from the province lived for seven years in Tehran working in a factory. “I live near a base and when they responded for the assassination of Soleimani (in 2020) I jumped out of bed. I thought it was an earthquake,” he says.
His mother’s illness brought him back to Jorramabad, where he has barely begun to build a future. He opened a clothing store together with his brother and drives a taxi in his free hours.
Residents say that the lack of industry or private companies leaves young people with few options. The city is suffering a severe economic crisis, exacerbated by the inflation that plagues all of Iran. There are several avenues populated with clothing, food and mobile stores. They are adorned with the typical neon signs that make the nights full of life.
“There are many young people who stay in the security forces when they finish their military service,” explains Husein, adding that his only dream is for something radical to happen so that the youth can progress. “Sometimes I think that if there is war the situation will change,” he says and then assures that he would not fight. “That, for those who support the Islamic republic.”
Hussein complains that many men are dedicated to selling drugs, a very buoyant business since the Taliban launched the campaign to eradicate opium cultivation in Afghanistan. “You go to some sectors of the city and you can find everything you can imagine,” he says.
These border regions – and Lorestan is no exception – are famous for their beauty and the fertility of the land. However, the increasingly worrying water shortage has serious consequences for small farmers and herders.
“Drugs, unfortunately, are a source of income for many,” explained a young former police officer who asked that we not say his name. He was expelled from the institution a year ago when he was stationed in Tehran. He assures that “I refused to attack women” and smiles as he reconstructs the days of protests of the Women, Life and Freedom movement, which emerged after the death in 2022 of Mahsa Amini, arrested for not wearing the veil properly. she.
This former police officer belonged to the riot squad that, along with other forces, led the repression. “They expelled ten of us,” he says.
Currently, he runs a mobile food stall next to the artificial lake around which all the city’s attractions revolve, including a Ferris wheel. But many of his friends and family remain in the military forces, especially the Revolutionary Guard. “They earn well,” she says.
Waves of young people, women and men, take advantage of the late afternoon hours to take a walk along this walk. Savah, 36, has gone for a walk with her two sisters. They all wear short shirts, but they cover their heads. They explain that after Mahsa they took off their veils, like many other women in the city. There were even protests and many women were arrested. “What happened was very interesting because this society is very traditional and religious. Families put a lot of pressure on women, but many changed and lived more freely,” says Savah, who owns a hair salon. As the months passed, however, the pressure from the authorities returned, and with it from the families to cover up.
“This is a town. “If something happens to you, everyone finds out, but even so the feeling is different,” adds the woman, pointing out that the situation is different with younger women. “They don’t accept rules,” she says, pointing to a girl of about 18 years old, without a veil, who walks by the lake with a group of friends, girls and boys, who can’t stop laughing. The scene is totally different from the one seen in the mausoleum where Faezeh and Mohamed remembered young people from other decades who died in the war.
