Iran

In the beginning, I thought i would be able to recount my trip to Iran in a few words or describe it like the English do, then i set foot in it and now the story begins…

Rush hour along Entebbe road, the ever graceful Emirates hostesses, and yes the four hour wait at the mesmerizing Dubai International Airport, and final stop in the Islamic Republic of Iran.

3 am was the hour and the sight of the Tehran International Airport was headscarves and a very unfamiliar language, the breeze was a relief from the all seasonal tropical weather of Uganda. our hosts braved the revolving degrees to welcome us into our one month home.

Try as we could, we lost the battle to keep our eyes open, and indeed finally arrived at the Tehran grand hotel 2 at 5 am, checked in and bid ourselves goodnight. Awakened, we gathered for our first Iranian delicacy tasting, which as you will further tell, left a sounding impression on me.

The Milad tower, 6th tallest in the world. What a sight of the town field, and a little fish farm, the 200 year history described in words and portrayed by the glittery fine architecture that filed the building walls. Just a stones throw from the tower is where we met the bread soup dish, non alcoholic beer and the all time favorite kebabs.

We quickly delved into the founding of our trip, day in and out we appreciated the nature of the Iranian grid system and were surprised by the weight of the generation system that enables Iran to export power to Iraq, Armenia, Azerbaijan, and the economic, environmental, health and safety features, PLSCADD, substation civil and electrical designs, project management, SCADA, and substation automation and grounding system.

I could describe the cable car day trip as one of the most fascinating days of my life, no puns or figs here but the ultimate truth in every way. I could liken my excitement to the sound of the cries of a new born child held by parents who have waited, prayed and silently taken the questionable stares of many, as they finally relished in their new found joy. The cable car experience is one to write home about, from the breathtaking view from above the skyline, to the excitement of that little boy who upon the sight of Seth could only exclaim……”Africa!!!”.

Yes, the child in each one of us came alive on that day, and for me, an item off my bucket list. It reminds me of a famous statement that whoever you are, your dreams are valid. Iranian families have a touching tradition of spending weekends together as a family and it was a reminder to me of the Ugandan tradition.

Each country has a uniqueness to it and Iran is no exception here. The culture engulfs one from the first step into this land. The women fully veiled up and the gracefulness with which the people embrace their rich Persian language is difficult to miss at every shop, office, even the car plates are not spared either. We were indeed a sight to behold as we took uncertain calculated steps into land once overtaken by a revolution.

Akin to that are the well aligned red, green, white flags on the street highways, a quick reminder of their history, and to me, a quality of a country proud of their own.

Our experience in Zanjan was nostalgic…the wooden house structure that was our home for three days reminded us of the Iran we mentally knew… the heart of furniture and exquisite carpets, a warm living home We felt. Next time i am on Kampala road, i will say “salom” to the staff because i know where this pride treasure comes from.

If i were a man, Iran would have my heart right to my stomach. I still cannot fathom how such fine cuisine can taste so well every single day….where do i begin…the sugary rice or the chicken baked yellow one, the tomato like fruit or the bitter tasty kiwi, the assortment of chicken, beef, fish, lamb and mushroom kebabs, the yellow khoresht mast. Call me ignorant, but from my few, yet to grow travels , and inquisitive personality, i haven’t found a culture so united. We still await the sumptuous kalepache delicacy and finally lick our fingers…and since i cannot say adieus to this assortment of sumptuous meals, i carried a cook book for me to remember and maybe surprise that special someone one day.

I still cannot forget the breakfast meal on our way from Zanjan. That tiny restaurant upstairs gave our stomachs a filling and earned a thumbs up salute. Our enzymes were awakened by the sight of the large, bread like chapatti, beans, jam, buffalo butter and the side platted jam and scrambled eggs. I am on this note keeping my night and shining armor away from the blossoming women of this nation until i can be completely sure that the competitive ground in the kitchen is well leveled up.

Culture is diverse and Iran is no stranger to this notion. The visits to Abhar cable company, Pars Switch manufacturing company, Faragostar Steel, the trade show, and the tall lagged telecommunication equipment building was a realization that this strong technology country is on its way to becoming an export market station. The sight of the growing manufacturing industry is alarming and a reminder to us of how much hay we can make when the sun shines.

It’s impossible to claim to understand the Iranian culture while ignoring the 1979 revolution that overthrew the then leader and transformed the kingdom into a sovereign state.

The magnificent structure, green grass and the silence of power and authority, are the welcoming breaths of fresh air to the 400 year old Niavaran palace which is the heart of Iran. The life of the late Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, his queen Farrah Diba and their princesses, their artistically designed olden age bedrooms adorned with the ancient persian carpets, little royal play teddy bears and the resting rooms, with playful colors and the difficult to describe well set cutlery pieces in the glass door dining set. It’s not even possible to miss the military uniforms and the dresses that still form part of my dreams…the blood line of the persian art can be evidenced here through artists like Alaun Bailhache, Victor Vasarley, Paviis Tanavoli, Vidal Quadras, Iran Daraudi and Marc chagal. A rich delicacy of pistschio, cream and fruits mixed together rounded off that day.

We were introduced to the memory of the Imam Mohammad whose demise is commemorized every 20th of November. The black flags were raised, his memory is evidently a constant in Iran.

Gam Arak welcomed us to Arak, one of the six major cities of Iran. The cold is incomparable. It’s embedded with the two century old bazar of Arak, the different male and female door knock sounds, the finesse of the carpets, qajar architectual elements such as the domed arches, stone and brick too.

Which brings me to this , what is an article without love, it engulfs our lives everyday a reminder to always smell the roses every path of the way. My Iranian love experience is embodied in different aspects of warmness, excitement and restrictions too. The unspoken restriction of no touch between the opposite sexes speaks volumes about the uniqueness of this republic, the respectful nods to the females, a wide contrast to the Ugandan experience. One wonders how such fine lads can keep their hands off the ever beautiful Persian women.

Isfahan, a city that 400 years ago was the capital of the famous Shah mosque, the jewelry, carpets and the discovery of the sweet gaz, ghotab and baglava. The beaming night lights at the mosque, the dry river mystery. We rounded off the night with the chapatti and egg plant mix with the miniature glass cup with tea in the ancient antique cluttered roof and wall with all the timeless cutlery, lamos, spears, Shields and pictures of the old time Iranian football team, clear legendary boxers and many other famous Iranians, even our very own Pele was right there before our eyes.

The mountain climb was unforgettable, as abrupt and unexpected, it was a challenge worth taking up. The mountain is 1600 metres from the sea and there is a monument in respect of the fire temple located in the center of a fortress called marbin. Surprisingly, the rooms on the western north angle were used as a praising place watch tower and military fortress. The best part is that we stepped ground on this historical monument that is registered on the list of national works with number 380 on 2nd December AD.

The other magnificent feature in Ishafan was the church of Saint Joseph of Arimathea, located at the big square town ( Meidane Bozorg) in Julfa of Ishafan. It was named after one of the disciples of Jesus Christ, who brought Christ’s body down from the cross. endowed with photographic episodes from the old and new testament, amazingly well captured the abilities of painters such as Masterminas, Priest Stephan and Bugdan Sultnaf.

It was a cold feeling after the visit to the Khachatour Kesearatsi museum where the features of the Armenian genocide are displayed . Right from pictures of the survivors, corpses of the martyrs of the genocide to the cables 20th March 1916 and 29th September 1915 of Abdolahaad Nori, the deaths in Allepo, Dipsey Abu- Harra and Hamman and Ras UiI Ain and the talant to the Governor of Alleppo that the Government decided to exterminate the entire population of the Armenians in Turkey, ravishing ornaments belonging to the edict of Shah Abbas the great and Shah Hamze.

Yazd the ever quiet city, which embraced us with the cold face blowing breeze as we attempted to visit the Amir Amaq complex, constructed by the then leader and his wife Fatemeh Khatun and completed in 841 AD. It really felt like two degrees under the sea. This structure comprises of the Amir Chamaq mosque molded with mud bricks, plastic and lime. It also houses the caravansary bath house, cistern, confectionery and water well. Its history reigns back to the 9th century when Shahrokh appointed AH Amir Jalaloddin e Shamir as the ruler of Yazd. There too lies the grave of Fatemah on the northern side of the square in an alley called Shir Asadollah.

Quite the story was the tribe in Yazd that places dad bodies on the mountain top….the difference in cultures can be phenomenal!

Our last sumptuous meal wound up our stay, a heart warming encounter with the hosts and t was back to the homeland. I was beaming with delight. Home sweet home it was…

I could do this again.

#RawandReal#