A TIME TO BETRAY (7 page)

In the ensuing days I learned much more about him. I found an interview he gave to Reuters where he said, “The foundation of our Islamic government is based on freedom of dialogue and will fight against any kind of censorship…. In Islamic Iran the clergy themselves will not govern but only observe and support the government’s leaders. The government of the country at all levels will be observed, evaluated, and publicly criticized.”

To a German reporter, he said, “Our future society will be a free society, and all the elements of oppression, cruelty, and force will be destroyed. Women are free in the Islamic Republic in the selection of their activities and their future and their clothing. …

“I don’t want to have the power or the government in my hand,” he told
The Guardian.
“I am not interested in personal power.”

His speeches and interviews gained traction. Soon it seemed as though everyone associated with Iran in any way was talking about him. I started to write Kazem and Naser a letter about him, but before I could complete it, one arrived from Kazem. As always, Kazem started his letter with, “In the name of God.”

Salam, Reza
jon,

I hope my letter reaches you in good health and happiness. I am sure the power of our spiritual leader has reached to that side of the world too. There is a lot happening here. We are close to a free Islamic society. Thousands of people are demonstrating throughout Iran. People are burning the flag and the shah’s pictures in the streets. Reza, I wish you were here. Naser and I have joined the uprising against the shah. Ayatollah Khomeini is the leader we need. We receive his manifestos and people in all parts of our nation, rich or poor, religious or atheist, man or woman, young or old, are sharing a common voice. It is time for the shah to step down. I will keep you posted. Meanwhile, don’t just sit there, man. Join this holy movement.

Kazem

Even though most Iranians had enjoyed varying degrees of success under the shah, Khomeini’s message resonated with a population weary of oppression and desperate for the political choice they felt the shah denied them. They believed Ayatollah Khomeini could make us not only prosperous, but also free. I heard more from both Kazem and Naser. They seemed thrilled about what was happening in our country and I looked forward to returning home as soon as possible.

The rising tide crested on January 16, 1979, when the shah left the country along with his wife and children. The state-controlled media reported that he was leaving to seek cancer treatment in Egypt, but, in fact, his army was in mutiny and his citizens were rioting. Iran was no longer safe for him and his family.

We gathered at Farzin and Mani’s house to see the news on television, watching with unrestrained joy as the shah’s departing jet rose into the sky. Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, the leader of Iran since 1941, had abandoned the country he had inherited from twenty-five hundred years of Persian monarchy. The television showed us hundreds of thousands of Iranians surging through the streets carrying Ayatollah Khomeini’s picture and yelling: “Shah
raft!
”
The shah is gone!
Cars drove through the streets of Iran with headlights on, horns blaring. In LA we loudly echoed this sentiment. I’d never witnessed such a passionate celebration, and I wished I could have been there with my fellow citizens.

Two weeks after the shah left, Ayatollah Khomeini took a French plane back to Iran. Watching from America, I imagined what it must be like for this seventy-eight-year-old man to step on his home soil triumphantly after fourteen years of forced exile. Millions of people gathered at Mehrabad Airport in Tehran to welcome him and to show their love and support.

After circling the airport for more than twenty minutes for security purposes, the ayatollah’s plane landed. I watched as Khomeini approached the microphone after a fanfare of welcoming songs and introductory speeches.

“We have to thank all classes of people of this nation. For this victory up to now has been due to the unity of voice, the unity of voice of all Muslims, the unity of all religious minorities, unity of scholars and students, unity of clergies and all political factions. We must all understand this secret: that the unity of voice is the cause for success and we must not lose this secret to success and, God forbid, not allow the devils to cause dissent among your ranks. I thank all of you and pray for your health and glory and ask Allah to cut off the hands of foreigners and their cohorts.”

With that, he left the microphone to greet the millions who had come to declare themselves to him.

Khomeini promised the nation that no one would ever have to pay for such public utilities as electricity, water, telephone, and other services. He promised political freedom. The clergy would only improve the spiritual life of the people and would not interfere with the government. He also said that the people’s share of oil money would be delivered to their doorsteps. In his first major speech to a huge crowd in Tehran, he criticized the shah for his oppression, invited all Iranians to join the revolution, and promised a government run by the people and for the people.

Who could believe that any man could bring about the fall of the shah, king of kings? This unknown cleric had toppled the Persian kingdom simply by speaking to the people, as the Prophet Mohammad had. He vowed to kick the U.S.A. out of Iran, calling it “the Great Satan.” The man was afraid of nothing. Many truly believed God was on his side. And so, apparently, did he.

While we continued our support of the revolution at the ISA, some Iranians still loyal to the shah gathered on the streets of LA and other major cities in America to protest the rise of Khomeini and to demand the return of the shah. To oppose this, we marched down the streets of the city carrying posters of Khomeini and shouting, with fists in the air, “God is great! Khomeini is our leader!”

Inevitably, the two forces met. During one of our demonstrations, we ran into a crowd of Shah supporters furious that we were backing
the ayatollah. “We are Persians with so much pride and dignity,” said a middle-aged woman carrying an Iranian flag in one hand and a picture of Mohammad Reza Shah in the other. “We don’t need a mullah to rule our country. He will destroy our kingdom and its dynasty. Did you hear what Khomeini said when an American reporter asked how he felt going back home?
Hichi!
He said he felt nothing.” She shook her head. “How could you have no feeling for your country?” She turned her back to our crowd and waved her flag. “
Dorood bar shah.
Long live Shahanshah. Down with Khomeini.”

Inside Iran, the grassroots movement forming behind Khomeini was so powerful that shah loyalists declared martial law. Thousands of Iranians galvanized by Khomeini’s return demonstrated anyway, and soldiers opened fire on them. Citizens took up arms, rampaged on military bases, broke open the armories, and passed out military armaments to the people. A week after Khomeini’s arrival in Iran, Kazem and Naser called me together. It was the first time they’d ever done that.

“We were at the Eshrat Abad Garrison today,” Kazem said. “We forced them to surrender.”

Then Naser jumped in. “We each got our J-three machine guns, Reza.”

They were shouting, laughing, and talking at the same time. They had so much energy that I could barely understand them. “Wait, wait, guys. What’s going on? One at a time.”

Kazem explained that they were among the demonstrators attacking the garrisons around the city of Tehran. They forced the shah’s soldiers out to the street and disarmed them. Meanwhile, others entered the facilities and took away the soldiers’ weapons.

“The victory is upon us, Reza,” Kazem said.

This had been a risky operation, but they were triumphant. I could not believe that my friends were among those willing to sacrifice their lives for a free Iran. I was proud of both of them. Naser, a secularist intellectual, and Kazem, a religious devotee, were acting as brothers in a common fight. They were representative of all of Iran
for that brief, shining moment—in perfect agreement and acting as one. Every faction and ideology—religious, liberal, secularist, Marxist, or Communist—had rallied under Khomeini’s banner. Within a couple of months, the provisional government held a national referendum. The question: Islamic Republic, yes or no? The lack of other options caused some to raise their eyebrows, but in the heady aftermath of Khomeini’s return, 98 percent voted yes.

On April 1, Ayatollah Khomeini declared an Islamic Republic that reflected strong, traditional Islamist values. As a concession to liberal powers in the country, Khomeini appointed Mehdi Bazargan as the first prime minister of the Islamic Republic of Iran to show that he was upholding his promise to keep his clergymen away from positions of political power. Bazargan was the head of the Liberation Movement of Iran. Ali Shariati had been among its founders, and the party dedicated itself to gaining freedom, independence, and democracy for the Iranian nation based on a modern interpretation of Islamic principles. The shah’s regime had jailed Bazargan many times, but he and his party maintained a code of civil disobedience and moderation. In fact, Bazargan had objected to calling Iran the “Islamic Republic” and wanted to call it the “Islamic Democratic Republic.” We had every reason to believe he would rule fairly and evenhandedly.

I couldn’t wait to get home, and in June of that year I did. At age twenty-five, I had a master’s degree in systems engineering and I was eager to lend my expertise to the revolution. My mother, still mourning the death of my father three years earlier, had moved into a condominium in a high-rise and I chose to live there with her.

The day after my return, Naser picked me up in the red Impala convertible we used to drive without his father’s knowledge. Since Naser was using it all of the time anyway, Davood finally just gave it to him. His brother, Soheil, and his sister, Parvaneh, were in the backseat.

“We’re going to pick up Kazem and then we’re going to get ice cream for us and crème caramel for Parvaneh, since that’s her favorite. We’re celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating, Naser
jon
?” Parvaneh asked. Although she was fifteen, she was small for her age and looked like she was no older than eleven. Her hair was still curly, though her pigtails were longer than I remembered. She even acted younger than her age, swaying her arm back and forth through the open window without a care in the world, trying to catch the wind with her hand.

“My best friend is back from America,” Naser said, smiling and glancing over at me. “That is a good reason. And our country is free—that is a better reason.”

“If it’s free, why can’t I go to the college?” Soheil said sharply. “I want to attend the College of Fine Arts at the University of Tehran, and now there is a rumor that they are closing down all the universities.”

Naser gestured to his brother to calm down. “It’s not going to be that way, da Vinci. If they do close the universities, it’ll only be for a short while.” We couldn’t know then that Naser was being overly optimistic. The next spring, the government shut down the universities for several years in what they called a cultural revolution to eradicate Western influence on the universities and bring them in line with Shiite Islam.

After we picked up Kazem, we roamed around Tehran. Everything seemed different to me. Yes, there were new high-rises and new highways. But what struck me most was the palpable spirit of the people. Some handed out flowers and candies. At the traffic lights they flashed victory signs and congratulated one another. In coming days I would see people from different political groups gathering in the universities or at corners around town discussing politics and religion openly and in peace. It felt like the beginning of a Persian Renaissance. I was convinced that we would soon show the world how to integrate religious idealism with modern values, as Shariati had envisioned. I imagined a future of creativity and innovation led by religious principle.

It was great to be back with Naser and Kazem. We met at my place or at Feris, a small café on the ground level beneath Mom’s
apartment. These days, we talked about nothing other than the revolution. Both of them were already contributing. Naser graduated as a civil engineer and got a good job working for a private company. Meanwhile, Kazem had impressed so many people in the Islamic Students’ Association with his dedication that the Revolutionary Guards hired him and quickly promoted him to the secretive Intelligence Unit.

Kazem had grown a beard with a mustache neatly cut above his lips like so many other religious young men supporting the revolution. Among ideologues unwavering belief was powerful. That quality of certitude, rather than scholarship, experience, or qualifications, had made Khomeini our leader.

“Reza, this is where you should be,” Kazem said of the Guards. “Your expertise with computers and your faith in the revolution are assets. Do you want me to talk to my commander and see if there is an opening for you?”

I thought this was a good idea, as I had to land a job soon and I wanted to contribute. He quickly arranged an interview for me with his commander.

“They need you, Reza. The Guards are in the process of installing a computer system in their bases around the country and are now hiring. I told them that you are their man.”

The next day, I went to the Guards’ base in the south of Tehran. Kazem’s commander, Rahim, had an office at the end of a long narrow corridor on the first floor of one of the four-story buildings that formed the base. Rahim was a short, chubby man. Like Kazem, he wore a full beard and a trimmed mustache.

“
Salam,
Brother. Nice to meet you,” he said when I entered his office.

As Kazem had instructed, I brought the papers documenting my education in America, including my master’s degree. Rahim did not want to see any of these and asked only a few questions about my knowledge and skill. Instead, he focused his questions on my activities in America and my devotion to Islam and our leader. He wanted
to know who I stayed with and associated with in America. I told him about my involvement with the ISA, about how I came to support Ayatollah Khomeini, and how moved I was by his passion for Iran and Islam. I told him about my parents and grandparents and, to leave him with the best possible impression, I told him how my grandmother had taught me to be a devoted Muslim.