Mit Iranske paradis (2008) - full transcript
To me, Iran has always been the happiest
place under the sun.
It's where I spent
the first 22 years of my life.
Since then, the appearance
of Iran has changed.
Death to the Shah!
Death to the Shah!
I had settled in Denmark.
One fine day in the 80s
I heard some people speak Farsi.
A language I knew so well.
They were Iranians, who had fled
the bloody Islamic Revolution.
DON'T DEPORT
Their stories were
incomprehensible to me.
Many years have passed.
Only now have I been able to pluck up
my courage to go back -
- and see what happened
to my childhood paradise.
As a child, I saw a dancing dervish
on the borderline of Turkey and Iran.
He danced and danced
and danced.
He taught me a poem
I never since forgot.
My heart is so small
that it can barely be seen
Tell me, how can it carry
0 heavy a sormow
Open your eyes, he said
Your eyes are even smaller
And yet, they can capture
the whole world
- Hello, welcome to my country.
- Thank you. If's also mine in a way.
You will see
that things are very different now -
- and that the conditions for women
are more difficult than ever.
How so?
Here I learned to walk.
Here I learned to read.
Tehran.
My beloved city.
Do you remember the street going
uphill? It was called Amir-Atabak.
On your right, it's Bahar-Shiraz.
And on your left Amir-Atabak.
- To Amjadieh square.
- And Malayeripoor Street.
- Comer of Somayeh and Mofateh.
- The Somayeh intersection?
- Comer of Somayeh and Mofateh.
- The Somayeh intersection?
Continuing from there,
you can ask for directions.
Thank you very much.
The streets have new names.
I haven't been here
in over 30 years.
Although I was born in Denmark
and only ever had a Danish passport -
- I never really felt
like I belonged there.
Where do you belong?
Where you were born,
or where you grew up?
- That's the street you're looking for.
- Thank you.
How is it
that you speak Farsi so well?
This is the street of my childhood.
My father was Danish,
and my mother Polish.
My father worked as an engineer.
We were 'Kharedji', the Persian term
for foreigner or stranger.
My parents led a western lifestyle.
They lived a life of their own
behind high walls.
From the street,
I'd hear my mother playing the piano.
Then I knew she was home.
The street was my playground.
Each day in the driveway, the opium
lady squatted by the stairs, smoking.
Although she only smoked
a pipe of tobacco in the street -
- the smell of opium
surrounded her.
Smoking opium
was actually prohibited -
- but old people were allowed
to uphold the tradition.
I got my first chador,
when I was 4.
It was given to me
by my Iranian nanny.
Growing up, I was like a chameleon
shifting between two worlds.
One at home
and another in the street.
My best friends were the Iranian
twin boys, Hassan and Hossein.
Their religious parents had named
the boys after two holy martyrs.
It was Hassan and Hossein
who laughed at me -
- and said
that Santa Claus was a big lie.
That was the first time I felt that
there was a difference between us.
But I didn't want to show it.
1 didn’t want to be different.
When I put on my chador, I was
more Iranian than the Iranians.
No one could tell
any difference at all.
When going to school,
I'd walk from my European home -
- where I spoke Danish and Polish -
- through the streets of Tehran,
speaking the Persian language, Farsi.
In school we were taught by nuns.
Although they looked different,
they were respected everywhere.
The school was called Jeanne d'Arc,
and there we spoke French.
Now it's called Martyr Radigil School,
but the street is still' Jeanne Dare.
Is he a martyr
from the Iran-Iraq war?
No, he was our Premier.
He was assassinated in an explosion.
In The Name of Allah
Our Loving And Forgiving God
My school was
a Catholic girls' school -
- and the pupils represented all sorts of religions.
Many of them were Muslims.
But only the Catholic children
had to go to church.
It was the thing
to exchange religious pictures.
My father was a Protestant, but
I was raised a Catholic as my mother.
My father was a Protestant, but
I was raised a Catholic as my mother.
The Catholic church demanded this
of children in mixed marriages.
At communion you had to look
exceedingly holy and pious.
Even my mother thought
it was too much.
But I wasn't aware of the powerful
religious signals of my dress.
I passed my exam.
Thanks, Mona.
In my time, there was a crucifix
above the blackboard.
Now the great Ayatollah
looks down upon me.
In the street, we're guarded by the
religious leaders. And by a martyr.
In Persian culture, suffering
has always been cherished.
In art as well as in religion.
I remember
the men in black clothes -
- who would sometimes walk in
procession in the streets of Tehran.
Every year, my nanny would
take me to Ashura, a Shiite feast.
Most foreigners did not understand
what was going on -
- and they remained indoors
during religious processions.
Some of the men wore green caps.
They were Seyyeds.
Holy men.
I trust you are doing well?
- Thank you. Bless you. And you?
- 1 am well, thank you.
Thank you.
- You are a Seyyed?
- Yes.
- What is a Seyyed?
- A descendant of the Prophet.
Generation after generation
after the Prophet.
How can you be certain?
Because both my father and
grandfather were Seyyeds.
My grandfather told my father,
who then told me.
Just like you know your father
and your grandfather.
Generation upon generation.
This is what's peculiar about Iran.
That the prophet's descendants
walk around among us.
Bye, Seyyed.
It's almost time for Friday prayer.
I've accidentally
strayed into a major political event.
I'm not at all dressed for this.
I'd better find the women's section.
My Iranian friends always told me -
- that what they remembered the best
from their childhood -
- was the scent
of their mother's chador.
When I lived here, only the highly
religious women wore chadors.
Today, every woman is obliged
to cover herself up.
If ever an Iranian woman
covers up her face -
- it's either because she's shy,
or because she desires anonymity.
Reza Khan, the old shah,
strongly opposed the chador.
My grandmother told me
that women in the streets -
- would get their chadors tom off
by Reza Shah's soldiers.
She also said that, for fear of the
soldiers, the women stayed at home.
And if they had to leave the house,
they'd wear a hat to hide their shame.
And if they had to leave the house,
they'd wear a hat to hide their shame.
So, the question is:
Where are the women's rights -
- to decide whether or not
to cover themselves.
Tell me, where are those rights?
No matter if the system
is oriented towards the West -
- and claims to support human rights
or it's an Islamic system -
- where are the women's rights?
I need a black scarf.
Like that one, but black.
- Mine keeps gliding down.
- Don't they wear scarves over there?
- No.
- Never?
- No, never.
- Poor us.
How do you feel about
the obligatory dress?
Which feelings does it evoke in you?
They've forced you
to dress like us.
All of us looking alike.
Like a disciple or a prisoner.
You'll get used to it.
But you will be alone
with your thoughts.
And in order for you
to be true to yourself -
- you must lead a double life.
Like the rest of us.
Here, in wealthy Northern Tehran,
I see -
- many women challenge the strict
dress code in spite of the fact -
- that they know
they can be punished for it.
You cannot take away
the vanity of the Iranian woman.
Nose jobs are highest fashion.
They must be smaller.
It's always been like that,
but now also the men do it.
They cherish and nurture
their most beautiful possession:
Their faces.
The displays reveal to me
what the women wear at home.
Behind the walls,
when they take off their chadors.
Women approach me.
They want to unburden their hearts.
They want to tell their story,
and share their thoughts with me.
1 too must adapt -
- and hide the femininity
which lies in one's hair.
I find that I am beginning to have fun
choosing scarves.
This is the railroad
that brought my father to Iran.
In 1933, Shah Reza Khan solicited the
Danish engineer company Kampsax -
- to build a railroad across Iran.
One task was bigger than all other:
Building a railroad from north
to south, 1,400 kilometres long.
My father was one of
the many Scandinavian engineers -
- who fled the unemployment
of the 30s -
- and sought out challenges
in far-away Iran.
He was only 24,
when he left Denmark.
It was before I was born -
-and I only have a vague sense
of his first working years.
No roads and no means
of modern transportation.
Quite a difference from building
a railroad in Denmark.
We all tried it in school,
but here it's for real.
We all tried it in school,
but here it's for real.
My father frequently wrote to his
siblings, whom he missed very much.
He amused himself
by using the Persian calendar.
In a letter dated 28th Mehr 1314,
he talks of the strenuous working life.
"Two Norwegians just arrived.
They were immediately
shipped to lot 5, south -
- where the temperature
reaches 55 degrees -
- and people get dysentery from
the heat and lack of fresh foods.
I'd hate to put my health on stake
for this," he states conclusively.
My father could talk for hours about
the construction of the railroad.
He never again built anything like it.
It turned out to be
his life's work.
That mountain is in the way.
4 million kilograms of dynamite
for the construction of the railroad.
2 million m3 of brick wall.
250 bridges.
55,000 workers.
600 million work hours.
Do not lean out
A Persian love poem.
And to my astonishment, an old
Danish car with Danish instructions.
This is the route.
At the bottom of the valley,
the climb begins.
The railway runs on three floors,
or ramps, as they are called.
It's the only way
in which to ascend.
At the very top, this winding road
ends in a big 8-shaped structure.
Perhaps it's the only railway
in the world ever built that way.
In 1938, the railroad was ready
to be put into service.
The construction was
the prestige project of the old Shah.
The bridge over Vresk
was its crown jewel.
My father told me that he used to bring
water to the workers with horses.
He said it was very hard.
- Was there no other way?
- No, it had to be done by horse.
- Hello, I trust you are well?
- Thank you, and I trust you are, too.
This grave is from when
the railroad was built.
It belongs to one of the builders
and is from around 1300-1310.
Unfortunately, we don't know
if he was an engineer or a worker.
A frame here said: Daniel Mostadin,
and there was also a sign with a star.
The city council
wants to renovate the grave -
- so we need to know
about the customs of his culture.
- Did the star look like this?
- Yes, but now 2 beams are missing.
- Did the star look like this?
- Yes, but now 2 beams are missing.
- It's the star of David.
- Star of David?
- Write his name in European letters.
- European? It was in English before.
That's the same as the European.
I wonder if the family
of this Jewish man know -
- that a small village
tend to his grave.
When they built this railroad, they
only had shovels, picks and dynamite.
They didn't have
all the modern tools of today.
Even getting water supplies
up the steep hill was a challenge.
1 think this is
one of the wonders of the world.
Just as God created the mountain
he also created this railroad -
- in the sense that God inspired
the engineers, the workers -
- and the bricklayers to do the job.
That's how I see it.
- This must be the women's section?
- Hello.
I'm so exhausted.
Thank you.
- What's in the box?
- A vacuum cleaner.
A vacuum cleaner?
For whom?
- For me.
- Why?
- Because I'm going to be a bride.
- Really?
Yes, and one has to bring
all the things you'd need in a home.
Furniture, refrigerator and freezer,
washing machine, vacuum cleaner.
Everything you can imagine.
Even a month's worth of groceries.
I've spent what I should
on making his home.
Now it's his turn to buy my
wedding dress and arrange my party.
- How did you get all that money?
- I worked very hard.
As an independent woman,
1 don't have to rely on my family.
I've handled everything myself.
But people have become materialistic.
Many families don't have the means
but put pressure on themselves -
- to live up to other families.
After the railroad, my father worked
for the Iranian Ministry of Transport -
- responsible for the railroad
and general infrastructure.
But he missed Denmark.
"When I'm homesick,
I long for all of you.
How wonderful it will be
to see you all again.
You probably changed very much.
The youngest in particular.
It annoys me that I didn't get
to come home on vacation this year.
But I hang my hopes
on next summer."
But nor did he come to Denmark
the following summer.
The Second World War broke out.
All contact with the family
was interrupted.
All contact with the family
was interrupted.
Twelve whole years would go by,
before my father saw his family again.
But the Second World War
brought my parents together.
The war broke out in Europe,
when Hitler's army attacked Poland.
My mother was living in Lithuania,
which was Polish at the time.
She was a student
at the university in Vilnius.
Hitler and Stalin had conspired
to divide Poland among themselves.
Hence, Poland was also attacked
from the east by Stalin’s troops.
Ina very short time, Stalin
carried out an ethnic cleansing -
- in the Ukraine and in Lithuania.
1.7 million people of Polish heritage
were deported to the Gulag in Siberia.
My mother was amongst them.
There were children.
There were women. There were men.
And there, they were put
to forced labour in work camps -
- far out in the wilderness,
where humanity had ceased to exist.
Whenever I asked my mother
about her captivity in Siberia -
- she'd smile and caress my face.
When my mother was alive,
I never wondered about it.
Was she trying to forget it?
Or was she trying to spare me?
When the prisoners had lost all hope
of ever returning to civilization -
- there was a surprising
political turn of events.
Hitler broke
the non-aggression pact with Stalin.
Stalin then changed sides
and joined the Allies.
Stalin issued amnesty to
the prisoners of the Gulag camps.
They could be used elsewhere.
Of the 1.7 million Polish prisoners
only half had survived.
Among them my mother.
Rumour had it
that one could join the Polish army -
- which was being formed in
the Soviet province of Kazakhstan.
My mother was close to dying
but managed to gather the strength -
- to travel thousands of miles
to the rallying ground.
At the age of 20, she became
a soldier in the Polish army.
But the Poles lacked both
food and weapons -
- so the Polish General Anders
succeeded in persuading Stalin -
- to let the Polish army go
and join the British army in Iran.
The route out of the Soviet Union
went via the Caspian Sea.
To freedom.
To Iran.
In the West, Iran is better known
as a country you flee from -
- than as a country
that shelters refugees.
That summer of 1942
Iran received, on this beach -
- 118,000 soldiers
and 44,000 civilian refugees.
- This is from the staircase outside.
- These are the stairs?
Yes, the stairs.
No, the other way.
- My eyesight isn't very good.
- Everyone was in uniform.
Yes, they were all soldiers.
- They came on the 3rd of Shahrivar.
- On the 3rd of Shahrivar?
Yes, in 1320.
1320 ... when was that
going by a Western calendar?
- It's 85 years ago.
- How old are you, Mr. Musa?
Me?
I'm around 72-73 years old.
Me?
I'm around 72-73 years old.
So, you were 8 or 9 at the time.
Did you watch them as a child?
Yes. We were fold
they were prisoners of war.
- What were they like?
- Very charismatic.
When they put on their uniforms,
they looked very elegant.
Most of them had blue eyes.
Blond hair and blue eyes.
We call it azure blue.
They were good people.
Yes, they were.
Back in Denmark ['ve often wondered
what happened to my friends -
- who stayed in Iran
following the Islamic Revolution.
I tried to seek them out,
but the only one I could find -
- was a Polish woman, Anna,
who travelled with my mother -
- from Siberia to Iran.
She is sill alive.
She married an Iranian.
Hello.
You shouldn't have ...
I am so happy.
- Can I use your first name?
- Yes.
Seeing as you're
0 much younger than me.
- Your mother had blond hair.
- Yes, and blue eyes.
I was very fond of her.
She visited you and took me along,
when [ was a child.
- Oh, you little girl.
- Yes.
- Lock, that's me ...
- You found yourself.
It must be from the Polish Club.
This must be from
General Anders' army?
It's when the Polish army was formed,
when we arrived in Tehran.
I remember how beautiful
it was here in Pahlavi.
We were immediately told to undress.
They had built wooden cabins
especially for us.
And the best part was ...
We all stood there, 30 of us -
-in 2 lines -
- when suddenly,
three young Persian men came in.
The water had stopped running -
- both the cold and the warm water,
because it was all built so fast.
They were such nice young men.
They didn't look at us at all,
and we stood naked like this.
Your mother, me and all the others.
They fixed it and left.
We continued bathing.
We got out and received nice clothes.
The old ones were burnt.
We had lice. I have pictures of us
with our heads shaved.
They were ill and exhausted
from the long journey.
And they were not used to eating.
Suddenly they had food to eat,
but their bodies couldn't take it.
Many died here on the beach,
when they had finally found freedom.
The Polish Cemetery
- May I come in?
- Yes, please do.
- Hello, may your work be blessed.
- Thank you, and you. Welcome.
- Are you the caretaker here?
- Yes.
Is it a child resting here?
- It is ... a child of two months?
- Yes.
What a fate.
The plan of God the Almighty
can never be foretold.
All of them in only 3 days. Imagine.
600 people in only 3 days.
Many have no name or identity.
There are many graves
that never receive a visitor.
I come instead,
and then I've done a good deed.
I come here,
whenever I'm sad.
They are strangers, and so am I.
It brings me comfort.
When I pray to them,
they fulfill my prayers.
But their religion
is different from yours?
There's no difference. No, sweetie,
we both believe in the Holy Mary.
We all have the same god.
It's we people
who create the differences.
How true.
It's a generous sea.
It's the sea
that gave my mother her life back.
Until her final breath, my mother was
deeply grateful for the generosity -
- shown to her
by the Persian people.
And this gratitude
is deeply rooted in me as well.
Maybe it's because my mother
rediscovered hope here -
- that we returned year after year
to this very same beach -
- that we called
the Polish beach.
Keep a distance of 500 metres
to the women's wall.
Violation is punishable by law.
It's the same sand
and the same sea.
But only the men
are allowed to go swimming.
It is prohibited for women to show
their bodies on public beaches.
Women may only bathe
within their own area -
- which is inside an enclosement
that stretches far into the sea.
A few months later, in 1942 -
- the Polish-British army
marched on to Tehran.
Dashing as they were -
- the Polish women soldiers made
quite an impression in the capital.
Were I to use today's terms,
my mother was a refugee -
- and my father was
a migrant worker.
They met at a bridge tournament.
They fell in love.
My mother got permission to leave
the army, and they got married.
My mother advanced from
stateless refugee to Danish citizen.
But they would live in a country
for 40 years -
- in which
they were both foreigners.
- Did she marry here?
- Yes, in Tehran.
- Is she in Tehran now?
- No, she passed away.
May she rest in peace.
The fate of man is unpredictable.
Where one is born, where one dies.
Poland's in one place
and Iran's in another.
Some died here while others
travelled on and married.
Man's destiny cannot be foretold.
True.
They're so beautiful ...
I'm following in the footsteps
of my parents here in Iran.
Yes?
- My mother and father's.
- So late?
- My mother and father's.
- So late?
- Yes, I regret that.
- Its so late.
- I've been afraid of coming to Iran.
- Why?
Because of the Islamic Revolution.
In Denmark, I had no idea
what was going on here.
- And now we may have a war.
- Yes.
- Maybe Iran, too.
- Yes, and that frightens me.
She's lived in this country
for 60 years.
And she still feels like a guest.
Every Sunday Anna, my mother
and all the other women -
- would meet in the Catholic church.
The church was an oasis -
- where the women could gather
and speak their own language.
It was a link to their heritage.
Most of them
were married to Iranians.
And many had been forced
to officially convert to Islam.
So, their church attendance
was kept discreet.
One tried to lead a secure life
and stay out of politics.
1 know the feeling of not belonging.
Of being a foreigner.
I know what it is to be tom.
To not belong here nor there.
I've been in exile. The life away
from the homeland is very painful -
- and when you return, you're met
with hurtful remarks such as:
"You took the easy way out and fled."
"You act like an onlooker,
shouting your advice.”
Yes, one shouldn't condemn those
who flee for their lives.
Once a refugee,
always a refugee.
Life in exile is perpetual torture.
I drank it in with my mother's milk.
I learned to live with the pain.
Learned to adapt
and keep a low profile.
I think my parents chose
to do the same.
But they were yet again
to experience -
- their lives threatened
by great political conflicts.
One day, disturbances broke out.
I was 7 years old.
My mother was afraid, and so was I.
1 didn't understand why she said:
"The Bolshevists are here too now.
The communists are coming.”
The problem was the black gold.
If Iran didn't have oil, it would be
the happiest country in the world.
History has shown how closely related
religion, oil and politics are.
England had acquired the rights
to Iran’s subsoil -
- in return for
5% of the profits.
The oil money only benefited
a fraction of the population.
The young shah,
who now occupied the throne -
- had no intentions
of opposing the British.
Someone else
had the courage, though.
In the whole course of our history -
- we've only had one
democratically elected Premier:
I refer to Dr. Mohammad Mossadeg.
Dr. Mossadeq declared that the oil
of Iran was the property of the state -
- and fried to stop the oil from being
sold cheaply to foreign companies.
I noticed how other foreigners
started leaving Iran.
It was mostly women and children
who fled in haste.
And some of my friends
from the French school also left.
But my family stayed on.
Mossadeq had many enemies
domestically as well as abroad.
The Security Council is not competent
to evaluate this plan.
And what happened next?
Arumour was started that Mossadeq
was a communist and pro-Russia.
But it was a false rumour
aimed at hurting Mossadeq.
The Shah then fled Iran.
Shortly after, they brought the Shah
back, and everything was like before.
Shortly after, they brought the Shah
back, and everything was like before.
The Iranians soon realised that things
were controlled by the US and CIA -
- and that they had staged
the return of the Shah.
Mossadeq, who for a brief moment was
successful in nationalizing the oil -
- and freeing his people,
was put into house arrest.
My beloved Mossadeq,
tell me that you are not ill.
Come home, beloved,
and I will bring you sugar water.
I learned the political poem about
Mossadeq from my street friends.
They said it was dangerous.
You couldn't say it out loud.
You know ...
1 think that if the West
hadn't interfered -
- the situation in the Middle East
would be different today.
There would have been no shah,
nor mullahs -
- and maybe Iran would have
been a free democratic country.
After the coup against Mossadeq,
the power of the Shah increased.
Like his father,
he wished for Iran -
- to adopt a more
Western lifestyle and culture.
Small and big companies
from all over the world -
- were, like the classic gold diggers,
attracted by the black gold.
We were still living there.
And as time went by, the gap between
ourselves and Denmark widened.
Iran had become
our second fatherland.
My father's letters to his sister
were less frequent -
- and I grew up sensing
that we were only visitors -
- when we came to Denmark for
summer vacation every other year.
My father's letter to his sister,
1958:
"It's getting increasingly difficult
to find the time to write.
We are extremely busy
with road projects.
The family is well, and Annette
has just started high school.
The oil wells pumped blood
into the Iranian economy.
We'd gotten rid of the British,
but now had the Americans instead.
During the reign of the Shah,
Americans in Iran felt superior.
The Shah passed a law that offered
immunity to American soldiers.
But among the people, there was
growing resentment of the Americans.
Western influence
provided the Shah with enemies -
- both among intellectuals
and religious people.
A certain Ayatollah Khomeini,
then a high-ranking priest -
- in the sacred city of Qom,
opposed the Shah.
He accused the Shah
of degrading the Iranian people -
- to be inferior
to an American dog.
For if you ran over a dog in America,
you'd be penalized in court.
But should an American, according to
the new law, run over an Iranian -
- he could do so
without being punished.
The Shah then banished Khomeini
and condemned him to a life in exile.
The Shah was usually much more
severe with his opponents.
His secret police
was feared by everyone.
There was no freedom or justice.
I mean, no freedom of expression
or freedom of the press.
There was great disparity
between the rich and the poor.
And anyone, who criticized this,
was imprisoned or executed.
The demarcation lines were being
drawn, but not many realized it.
I was 19 and worked as
an English newscaster on Iranian TV.
Although I was aware of the political
tension, I chose to turn a blind eye.
I loved life in Tehran.
It was my city.
I was part of it all.
And on the face of it -
- there was no difference between
we foreigners and Iranians.
But a proper Iranian girl
did not date, did not kiss -
- and certainly did not have sex
before marriage.
But that's what one did.
Marriages were usually arranged
by the male heads of the family.
My girlfriends were expected
to be virgins.
Those who weren't,
had it fixed at a clinic.
The Shah grew
in his own image of himself -
- and increasingly lost touch
with reality.
He crowned himself
emperor of all emperors:
Shah in Shah.
The entire international
political elite was in attendance -
- at one of the cradles of
Westem culture, Persepolis -
- to celebrate the 2500-year
anniversary of the Persian empire.
Celebrating Persia's 2500-year
anniversary, the people -
- led by the Shah, emperor -
- Mohammad Reza
Pahlavi Arya Mehr, Shah in Shah -
- show their respect at the tomb of
Cyrus the Great, the first shah.
His camp, if you can call it that -
- is in the shape of a 5-beam star
representing the 5 continents.
The Danish Royal family
sat in the place of honours.
King Frederik sat
next to the empress -
- and Queen Ingrid had the honour of
sitting next to the Shah himself.
Your Majesties, Honoured
Presidents, Your Highnesses -
- Eminences, Excellences,
First ladies and Gentlemen.
As in a fairy tale, there were some
the Shah had forgotten to swear in.
As in a fairy tale, there were some
the Shah had forgotten to swear in.
The religious leaders of the country.
Who would have guessed that the
days of his monarchy were numbered.
Death to the Shah!
Death to the Shah ...
When the revolution came -
- my father was retired,
and we had returned to Europe.
I experienced the revolution from afar.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
There were people
from all layers of society.
And there were young women
from my circle.
I was against the Shah and supported
the Islamic Revolution.
Many others did so, too, but not
necessarily for religious reasons.
I am going on a journey ...
The Shah fled. He knocked on doors
in one country after another -
- looking up friends from his days
of greatness, but in vain.
No one would offer him asylum.
I rejoiced on the day
Khomeini returned to Tehran.
If you look closely at the footage,
you'll see me in the front row -
- as part of the chain
forming in front of Khomeini.
The Great Ayatollah Has Returned
When Khomeini gave his first speech
in Behesht-Zahra -
- I sensed from his voice that
he was a person yearning for power -
-who,
instead of saying "we" -
- said "I will shut
the mouth of this government.”
"I will form a new government."
As if he was planning
his own private political revenge.
1 will form a government.
1 will form a government
backed by the people.
1 do this, knowing that I have
the support of the people ...
In his tone of voice
there was no love of the poor.
So, I quickly became
one of his opponents.
1 found it hard to keep quiet.
I didn't hide what I stood for,
and soon after I was arrested.
Jail was a very painful experience.
And for the first time in my life,
I felt genuine fear.
One day, when I was taken
from my cell on my daily walk -
- I saw people walking through
an intersection in the distance.
In my despair, I wished
that I could call out to them -
- and tell people what goes on
behind these high walls.
About all the people tortured
and executed here every day.
I am so sorry to hear
what you had to go through.
Did you expect something different
from the Islamic Revolution?
Yes, we expected it to get better -
- and we expected more justice.
And that women
would achieve equality.
For a brief moment, we thought
that real change was coming.
Its been many years
since the Islamic Revolution -
- and there are still
a lot of problems in Iran.
Jails are still full of free-thinking
people. Many of them women.
The revolution changed many lives.
Destinies were moved about
as pawns in the political game -
- and the West was flooded
with Iranian refugees.
I've travelled to Qom.
I never thought
I'd ever come to this place.
Qom is the city of the mullahs.
It's one of the holiest places in Iran.
This is where
the Islamic Revolution was born.
If I want to understand the country
50 dear to me -
- I've realized,
that I have to see Qom.
A Dervish!
I haven't seen a Dervish in ages.
It's as if time has stood still -
- and nothing has changed since
One Thousand and One Nights.
This city of the mullahs has a female
guardian angel: The Holy Masume.
I am visiting Seyyed,
whom I met in Tehran.
Every other week he goes home
to his family in Qom.
People here are strong believers
and practice their religion.
They are very religious in general.
You must earn your place
to be in Qom.
If you sleep here for three nights,
you'll earn a place in heaven.
You have now slept here one night.
God willing you'll be back one night
each year, and heaven will open up.
This family follows
the religious recipe on how to live.
They receive me as a family member
because we share a language -
-and I can understand
what they tell me.
In their eyes I'm an equal, even
though I belong to a different faith.
This is the daughter of my son.
I love her very much,
as she is my first grandchild.
There's a picture of it ...
It must be in the conclusion
or the introduction.
Look, the 'insert' key.
My grandparents didn't have
the opportunity to get an education -
- so they're illiterate.
Everything is run by computers
these days.
In Iran you can also get your
Koran lessons through the computer.
I'm fascinated by the fact that you can
get any information by pressing a key.
1 would like to study
computer engineering.
Computers contain a wondrous world.
I can see
that dreams are the same everywhere.
No Entry for Men
Isn't it a little loose?
My mother was 14, when she married.
She was very young.
As she was so young, she says
that I don't have to marry that early.
There's no place
like a father's home.
You cannot enter the Mosque,
if you're not wearing your chador.
They won't let you in
without a chador.
This chador feels inhumanly heavy -
- compared to the one I wore
with such ease in my childhood.
- compared to the one I wore
with such ease in my childhood.
Look!
Once again I'm part of it all.
In the holiest of cities, I enter
the holiest of places: the mosque.
Here I see the men dressed in black
that I used to fear so.
I witness the ritual, that 've felt
uneasy about since childhood.
|listen closely to the words.
It's a prayer to the Holy Zeynab.
She was captured 1400 years ago -
- and humiliated by having to walk all
the way to Damascus unveiled.
Her humiliation is still bewailed.
Every Friday
they come here to grieve.
Through sensing the suffering
of this holy woman -
- the men unburden their hearts
with real tears.
All religions have rituals
of such intensity -
- that they instil fear
in the unconsecrated.
I can understand the words,
the chanting of the men -
- but the ritual
still makes me ill at ease.
I come from
an entirely different world.
How can these two worlds reconcile?
Or simply meet?
I'm a Shia-Muslim -
-but that is
because of my parents.
- But you do believe in God?
- Yes, I believe.
I love Ged, but I don't understand
why the rules only apply to women.
I always wondered about
our Islamic laws.
If a woman cheats on her husband
with another man -
- our Islamic state may stone her.
But a man may have five legal wives
and forty temporary marriages.
Why?
What kind of law is this?
The man is worth more than a woman.
Why?
This law should be changed.
It's out of date -
- and not appropriate
for present times -
- with half the workforce in Iran
being women.
Did God create me, a woman,
just to make me suffer?
I always pray: "Holy Masume, you are
a woman who knows a woman's pain.”
Do we not have the right to live?
Should we not have a life?
Isn't it all just suffering?
I care very much
for the people here.
Their stories fill me with grief.
I feel like one of them and like a
stranger at one and the same time.
When you lived here,
you were privileged.
You could choose when to act like
a Persian, and when to be Western.
Does anything tie us together?
Do we have anything in common?
You, from a wealthy Western home
and with a Western schooling.
And me from a religious, traditional
home and an Islamic schooling.
It must be our sense of justice,
that tie us together.
Yes, we have our wish for justice
in common.
Yes, we have our wish for justice
in common.
But the freedom
to make our own choices in life -
- that is a privilege
that sets us apart from each other.
Now I'm leaving.
But in my mind, I will never leave
this land and these people.
place under the sun.
It's where I spent
the first 22 years of my life.
Since then, the appearance
of Iran has changed.
Death to the Shah!
Death to the Shah!
I had settled in Denmark.
One fine day in the 80s
I heard some people speak Farsi.
A language I knew so well.
They were Iranians, who had fled
the bloody Islamic Revolution.
DON'T DEPORT
Their stories were
incomprehensible to me.
Many years have passed.
Only now have I been able to pluck up
my courage to go back -
- and see what happened
to my childhood paradise.
As a child, I saw a dancing dervish
on the borderline of Turkey and Iran.
He danced and danced
and danced.
He taught me a poem
I never since forgot.
My heart is so small
that it can barely be seen
Tell me, how can it carry
0 heavy a sormow
Open your eyes, he said
Your eyes are even smaller
And yet, they can capture
the whole world
- Hello, welcome to my country.
- Thank you. If's also mine in a way.
You will see
that things are very different now -
- and that the conditions for women
are more difficult than ever.
How so?
Here I learned to walk.
Here I learned to read.
Tehran.
My beloved city.
Do you remember the street going
uphill? It was called Amir-Atabak.
On your right, it's Bahar-Shiraz.
And on your left Amir-Atabak.
- To Amjadieh square.
- And Malayeripoor Street.
- Comer of Somayeh and Mofateh.
- The Somayeh intersection?
- Comer of Somayeh and Mofateh.
- The Somayeh intersection?
Continuing from there,
you can ask for directions.
Thank you very much.
The streets have new names.
I haven't been here
in over 30 years.
Although I was born in Denmark
and only ever had a Danish passport -
- I never really felt
like I belonged there.
Where do you belong?
Where you were born,
or where you grew up?
- That's the street you're looking for.
- Thank you.
How is it
that you speak Farsi so well?
This is the street of my childhood.
My father was Danish,
and my mother Polish.
My father worked as an engineer.
We were 'Kharedji', the Persian term
for foreigner or stranger.
My parents led a western lifestyle.
They lived a life of their own
behind high walls.
From the street,
I'd hear my mother playing the piano.
Then I knew she was home.
The street was my playground.
Each day in the driveway, the opium
lady squatted by the stairs, smoking.
Although she only smoked
a pipe of tobacco in the street -
- the smell of opium
surrounded her.
Smoking opium
was actually prohibited -
- but old people were allowed
to uphold the tradition.
I got my first chador,
when I was 4.
It was given to me
by my Iranian nanny.
Growing up, I was like a chameleon
shifting between two worlds.
One at home
and another in the street.
My best friends were the Iranian
twin boys, Hassan and Hossein.
Their religious parents had named
the boys after two holy martyrs.
It was Hassan and Hossein
who laughed at me -
- and said
that Santa Claus was a big lie.
That was the first time I felt that
there was a difference between us.
But I didn't want to show it.
1 didn’t want to be different.
When I put on my chador, I was
more Iranian than the Iranians.
No one could tell
any difference at all.
When going to school,
I'd walk from my European home -
- where I spoke Danish and Polish -
- through the streets of Tehran,
speaking the Persian language, Farsi.
In school we were taught by nuns.
Although they looked different,
they were respected everywhere.
The school was called Jeanne d'Arc,
and there we spoke French.
Now it's called Martyr Radigil School,
but the street is still' Jeanne Dare.
Is he a martyr
from the Iran-Iraq war?
No, he was our Premier.
He was assassinated in an explosion.
In The Name of Allah
Our Loving And Forgiving God
My school was
a Catholic girls' school -
- and the pupils represented all sorts of religions.
Many of them were Muslims.
But only the Catholic children
had to go to church.
It was the thing
to exchange religious pictures.
My father was a Protestant, but
I was raised a Catholic as my mother.
My father was a Protestant, but
I was raised a Catholic as my mother.
The Catholic church demanded this
of children in mixed marriages.
At communion you had to look
exceedingly holy and pious.
Even my mother thought
it was too much.
But I wasn't aware of the powerful
religious signals of my dress.
I passed my exam.
Thanks, Mona.
In my time, there was a crucifix
above the blackboard.
Now the great Ayatollah
looks down upon me.
In the street, we're guarded by the
religious leaders. And by a martyr.
In Persian culture, suffering
has always been cherished.
In art as well as in religion.
I remember
the men in black clothes -
- who would sometimes walk in
procession in the streets of Tehran.
Every year, my nanny would
take me to Ashura, a Shiite feast.
Most foreigners did not understand
what was going on -
- and they remained indoors
during religious processions.
Some of the men wore green caps.
They were Seyyeds.
Holy men.
I trust you are doing well?
- Thank you. Bless you. And you?
- 1 am well, thank you.
Thank you.
- You are a Seyyed?
- Yes.
- What is a Seyyed?
- A descendant of the Prophet.
Generation after generation
after the Prophet.
How can you be certain?
Because both my father and
grandfather were Seyyeds.
My grandfather told my father,
who then told me.
Just like you know your father
and your grandfather.
Generation upon generation.
This is what's peculiar about Iran.
That the prophet's descendants
walk around among us.
Bye, Seyyed.
It's almost time for Friday prayer.
I've accidentally
strayed into a major political event.
I'm not at all dressed for this.
I'd better find the women's section.
My Iranian friends always told me -
- that what they remembered the best
from their childhood -
- was the scent
of their mother's chador.
When I lived here, only the highly
religious women wore chadors.
Today, every woman is obliged
to cover herself up.
If ever an Iranian woman
covers up her face -
- it's either because she's shy,
or because she desires anonymity.
Reza Khan, the old shah,
strongly opposed the chador.
My grandmother told me
that women in the streets -
- would get their chadors tom off
by Reza Shah's soldiers.
She also said that, for fear of the
soldiers, the women stayed at home.
And if they had to leave the house,
they'd wear a hat to hide their shame.
And if they had to leave the house,
they'd wear a hat to hide their shame.
So, the question is:
Where are the women's rights -
- to decide whether or not
to cover themselves.
Tell me, where are those rights?
No matter if the system
is oriented towards the West -
- and claims to support human rights
or it's an Islamic system -
- where are the women's rights?
I need a black scarf.
Like that one, but black.
- Mine keeps gliding down.
- Don't they wear scarves over there?
- No.
- Never?
- No, never.
- Poor us.
How do you feel about
the obligatory dress?
Which feelings does it evoke in you?
They've forced you
to dress like us.
All of us looking alike.
Like a disciple or a prisoner.
You'll get used to it.
But you will be alone
with your thoughts.
And in order for you
to be true to yourself -
- you must lead a double life.
Like the rest of us.
Here, in wealthy Northern Tehran,
I see -
- many women challenge the strict
dress code in spite of the fact -
- that they know
they can be punished for it.
You cannot take away
the vanity of the Iranian woman.
Nose jobs are highest fashion.
They must be smaller.
It's always been like that,
but now also the men do it.
They cherish and nurture
their most beautiful possession:
Their faces.
The displays reveal to me
what the women wear at home.
Behind the walls,
when they take off their chadors.
Women approach me.
They want to unburden their hearts.
They want to tell their story,
and share their thoughts with me.
1 too must adapt -
- and hide the femininity
which lies in one's hair.
I find that I am beginning to have fun
choosing scarves.
This is the railroad
that brought my father to Iran.
In 1933, Shah Reza Khan solicited the
Danish engineer company Kampsax -
- to build a railroad across Iran.
One task was bigger than all other:
Building a railroad from north
to south, 1,400 kilometres long.
My father was one of
the many Scandinavian engineers -
- who fled the unemployment
of the 30s -
- and sought out challenges
in far-away Iran.
He was only 24,
when he left Denmark.
It was before I was born -
-and I only have a vague sense
of his first working years.
No roads and no means
of modern transportation.
Quite a difference from building
a railroad in Denmark.
We all tried it in school,
but here it's for real.
We all tried it in school,
but here it's for real.
My father frequently wrote to his
siblings, whom he missed very much.
He amused himself
by using the Persian calendar.
In a letter dated 28th Mehr 1314,
he talks of the strenuous working life.
"Two Norwegians just arrived.
They were immediately
shipped to lot 5, south -
- where the temperature
reaches 55 degrees -
- and people get dysentery from
the heat and lack of fresh foods.
I'd hate to put my health on stake
for this," he states conclusively.
My father could talk for hours about
the construction of the railroad.
He never again built anything like it.
It turned out to be
his life's work.
That mountain is in the way.
4 million kilograms of dynamite
for the construction of the railroad.
2 million m3 of brick wall.
250 bridges.
55,000 workers.
600 million work hours.
Do not lean out
A Persian love poem.
And to my astonishment, an old
Danish car with Danish instructions.
This is the route.
At the bottom of the valley,
the climb begins.
The railway runs on three floors,
or ramps, as they are called.
It's the only way
in which to ascend.
At the very top, this winding road
ends in a big 8-shaped structure.
Perhaps it's the only railway
in the world ever built that way.
In 1938, the railroad was ready
to be put into service.
The construction was
the prestige project of the old Shah.
The bridge over Vresk
was its crown jewel.
My father told me that he used to bring
water to the workers with horses.
He said it was very hard.
- Was there no other way?
- No, it had to be done by horse.
- Hello, I trust you are well?
- Thank you, and I trust you are, too.
This grave is from when
the railroad was built.
It belongs to one of the builders
and is from around 1300-1310.
Unfortunately, we don't know
if he was an engineer or a worker.
A frame here said: Daniel Mostadin,
and there was also a sign with a star.
The city council
wants to renovate the grave -
- so we need to know
about the customs of his culture.
- Did the star look like this?
- Yes, but now 2 beams are missing.
- Did the star look like this?
- Yes, but now 2 beams are missing.
- It's the star of David.
- Star of David?
- Write his name in European letters.
- European? It was in English before.
That's the same as the European.
I wonder if the family
of this Jewish man know -
- that a small village
tend to his grave.
When they built this railroad, they
only had shovels, picks and dynamite.
They didn't have
all the modern tools of today.
Even getting water supplies
up the steep hill was a challenge.
1 think this is
one of the wonders of the world.
Just as God created the mountain
he also created this railroad -
- in the sense that God inspired
the engineers, the workers -
- and the bricklayers to do the job.
That's how I see it.
- This must be the women's section?
- Hello.
I'm so exhausted.
Thank you.
- What's in the box?
- A vacuum cleaner.
A vacuum cleaner?
For whom?
- For me.
- Why?
- Because I'm going to be a bride.
- Really?
Yes, and one has to bring
all the things you'd need in a home.
Furniture, refrigerator and freezer,
washing machine, vacuum cleaner.
Everything you can imagine.
Even a month's worth of groceries.
I've spent what I should
on making his home.
Now it's his turn to buy my
wedding dress and arrange my party.
- How did you get all that money?
- I worked very hard.
As an independent woman,
1 don't have to rely on my family.
I've handled everything myself.
But people have become materialistic.
Many families don't have the means
but put pressure on themselves -
- to live up to other families.
After the railroad, my father worked
for the Iranian Ministry of Transport -
- responsible for the railroad
and general infrastructure.
But he missed Denmark.
"When I'm homesick,
I long for all of you.
How wonderful it will be
to see you all again.
You probably changed very much.
The youngest in particular.
It annoys me that I didn't get
to come home on vacation this year.
But I hang my hopes
on next summer."
But nor did he come to Denmark
the following summer.
The Second World War broke out.
All contact with the family
was interrupted.
All contact with the family
was interrupted.
Twelve whole years would go by,
before my father saw his family again.
But the Second World War
brought my parents together.
The war broke out in Europe,
when Hitler's army attacked Poland.
My mother was living in Lithuania,
which was Polish at the time.
She was a student
at the university in Vilnius.
Hitler and Stalin had conspired
to divide Poland among themselves.
Hence, Poland was also attacked
from the east by Stalin’s troops.
Ina very short time, Stalin
carried out an ethnic cleansing -
- in the Ukraine and in Lithuania.
1.7 million people of Polish heritage
were deported to the Gulag in Siberia.
My mother was amongst them.
There were children.
There were women. There were men.
And there, they were put
to forced labour in work camps -
- far out in the wilderness,
where humanity had ceased to exist.
Whenever I asked my mother
about her captivity in Siberia -
- she'd smile and caress my face.
When my mother was alive,
I never wondered about it.
Was she trying to forget it?
Or was she trying to spare me?
When the prisoners had lost all hope
of ever returning to civilization -
- there was a surprising
political turn of events.
Hitler broke
the non-aggression pact with Stalin.
Stalin then changed sides
and joined the Allies.
Stalin issued amnesty to
the prisoners of the Gulag camps.
They could be used elsewhere.
Of the 1.7 million Polish prisoners
only half had survived.
Among them my mother.
Rumour had it
that one could join the Polish army -
- which was being formed in
the Soviet province of Kazakhstan.
My mother was close to dying
but managed to gather the strength -
- to travel thousands of miles
to the rallying ground.
At the age of 20, she became
a soldier in the Polish army.
But the Poles lacked both
food and weapons -
- so the Polish General Anders
succeeded in persuading Stalin -
- to let the Polish army go
and join the British army in Iran.
The route out of the Soviet Union
went via the Caspian Sea.
To freedom.
To Iran.
In the West, Iran is better known
as a country you flee from -
- than as a country
that shelters refugees.
That summer of 1942
Iran received, on this beach -
- 118,000 soldiers
and 44,000 civilian refugees.
- This is from the staircase outside.
- These are the stairs?
Yes, the stairs.
No, the other way.
- My eyesight isn't very good.
- Everyone was in uniform.
Yes, they were all soldiers.
- They came on the 3rd of Shahrivar.
- On the 3rd of Shahrivar?
Yes, in 1320.
1320 ... when was that
going by a Western calendar?
- It's 85 years ago.
- How old are you, Mr. Musa?
Me?
I'm around 72-73 years old.
Me?
I'm around 72-73 years old.
So, you were 8 or 9 at the time.
Did you watch them as a child?
Yes. We were fold
they were prisoners of war.
- What were they like?
- Very charismatic.
When they put on their uniforms,
they looked very elegant.
Most of them had blue eyes.
Blond hair and blue eyes.
We call it azure blue.
They were good people.
Yes, they were.
Back in Denmark ['ve often wondered
what happened to my friends -
- who stayed in Iran
following the Islamic Revolution.
I tried to seek them out,
but the only one I could find -
- was a Polish woman, Anna,
who travelled with my mother -
- from Siberia to Iran.
She is sill alive.
She married an Iranian.
Hello.
You shouldn't have ...
I am so happy.
- Can I use your first name?
- Yes.
Seeing as you're
0 much younger than me.
- Your mother had blond hair.
- Yes, and blue eyes.
I was very fond of her.
She visited you and took me along,
when [ was a child.
- Oh, you little girl.
- Yes.
- Lock, that's me ...
- You found yourself.
It must be from the Polish Club.
This must be from
General Anders' army?
It's when the Polish army was formed,
when we arrived in Tehran.
I remember how beautiful
it was here in Pahlavi.
We were immediately told to undress.
They had built wooden cabins
especially for us.
And the best part was ...
We all stood there, 30 of us -
-in 2 lines -
- when suddenly,
three young Persian men came in.
The water had stopped running -
- both the cold and the warm water,
because it was all built so fast.
They were such nice young men.
They didn't look at us at all,
and we stood naked like this.
Your mother, me and all the others.
They fixed it and left.
We continued bathing.
We got out and received nice clothes.
The old ones were burnt.
We had lice. I have pictures of us
with our heads shaved.
They were ill and exhausted
from the long journey.
And they were not used to eating.
Suddenly they had food to eat,
but their bodies couldn't take it.
Many died here on the beach,
when they had finally found freedom.
The Polish Cemetery
- May I come in?
- Yes, please do.
- Hello, may your work be blessed.
- Thank you, and you. Welcome.
- Are you the caretaker here?
- Yes.
Is it a child resting here?
- It is ... a child of two months?
- Yes.
What a fate.
The plan of God the Almighty
can never be foretold.
All of them in only 3 days. Imagine.
600 people in only 3 days.
Many have no name or identity.
There are many graves
that never receive a visitor.
I come instead,
and then I've done a good deed.
I come here,
whenever I'm sad.
They are strangers, and so am I.
It brings me comfort.
When I pray to them,
they fulfill my prayers.
But their religion
is different from yours?
There's no difference. No, sweetie,
we both believe in the Holy Mary.
We all have the same god.
It's we people
who create the differences.
How true.
It's a generous sea.
It's the sea
that gave my mother her life back.
Until her final breath, my mother was
deeply grateful for the generosity -
- shown to her
by the Persian people.
And this gratitude
is deeply rooted in me as well.
Maybe it's because my mother
rediscovered hope here -
- that we returned year after year
to this very same beach -
- that we called
the Polish beach.
Keep a distance of 500 metres
to the women's wall.
Violation is punishable by law.
It's the same sand
and the same sea.
But only the men
are allowed to go swimming.
It is prohibited for women to show
their bodies on public beaches.
Women may only bathe
within their own area -
- which is inside an enclosement
that stretches far into the sea.
A few months later, in 1942 -
- the Polish-British army
marched on to Tehran.
Dashing as they were -
- the Polish women soldiers made
quite an impression in the capital.
Were I to use today's terms,
my mother was a refugee -
- and my father was
a migrant worker.
They met at a bridge tournament.
They fell in love.
My mother got permission to leave
the army, and they got married.
My mother advanced from
stateless refugee to Danish citizen.
But they would live in a country
for 40 years -
- in which
they were both foreigners.
- Did she marry here?
- Yes, in Tehran.
- Is she in Tehran now?
- No, she passed away.
May she rest in peace.
The fate of man is unpredictable.
Where one is born, where one dies.
Poland's in one place
and Iran's in another.
Some died here while others
travelled on and married.
Man's destiny cannot be foretold.
True.
They're so beautiful ...
I'm following in the footsteps
of my parents here in Iran.
Yes?
- My mother and father's.
- So late?
- My mother and father's.
- So late?
- Yes, I regret that.
- Its so late.
- I've been afraid of coming to Iran.
- Why?
Because of the Islamic Revolution.
In Denmark, I had no idea
what was going on here.
- And now we may have a war.
- Yes.
- Maybe Iran, too.
- Yes, and that frightens me.
She's lived in this country
for 60 years.
And she still feels like a guest.
Every Sunday Anna, my mother
and all the other women -
- would meet in the Catholic church.
The church was an oasis -
- where the women could gather
and speak their own language.
It was a link to their heritage.
Most of them
were married to Iranians.
And many had been forced
to officially convert to Islam.
So, their church attendance
was kept discreet.
One tried to lead a secure life
and stay out of politics.
1 know the feeling of not belonging.
Of being a foreigner.
I know what it is to be tom.
To not belong here nor there.
I've been in exile. The life away
from the homeland is very painful -
- and when you return, you're met
with hurtful remarks such as:
"You took the easy way out and fled."
"You act like an onlooker,
shouting your advice.”
Yes, one shouldn't condemn those
who flee for their lives.
Once a refugee,
always a refugee.
Life in exile is perpetual torture.
I drank it in with my mother's milk.
I learned to live with the pain.
Learned to adapt
and keep a low profile.
I think my parents chose
to do the same.
But they were yet again
to experience -
- their lives threatened
by great political conflicts.
One day, disturbances broke out.
I was 7 years old.
My mother was afraid, and so was I.
1 didn't understand why she said:
"The Bolshevists are here too now.
The communists are coming.”
The problem was the black gold.
If Iran didn't have oil, it would be
the happiest country in the world.
History has shown how closely related
religion, oil and politics are.
England had acquired the rights
to Iran’s subsoil -
- in return for
5% of the profits.
The oil money only benefited
a fraction of the population.
The young shah,
who now occupied the throne -
- had no intentions
of opposing the British.
Someone else
had the courage, though.
In the whole course of our history -
- we've only had one
democratically elected Premier:
I refer to Dr. Mohammad Mossadeg.
Dr. Mossadeq declared that the oil
of Iran was the property of the state -
- and fried to stop the oil from being
sold cheaply to foreign companies.
I noticed how other foreigners
started leaving Iran.
It was mostly women and children
who fled in haste.
And some of my friends
from the French school also left.
But my family stayed on.
Mossadeq had many enemies
domestically as well as abroad.
The Security Council is not competent
to evaluate this plan.
And what happened next?
Arumour was started that Mossadeq
was a communist and pro-Russia.
But it was a false rumour
aimed at hurting Mossadeq.
The Shah then fled Iran.
Shortly after, they brought the Shah
back, and everything was like before.
Shortly after, they brought the Shah
back, and everything was like before.
The Iranians soon realised that things
were controlled by the US and CIA -
- and that they had staged
the return of the Shah.
Mossadeq, who for a brief moment was
successful in nationalizing the oil -
- and freeing his people,
was put into house arrest.
My beloved Mossadeq,
tell me that you are not ill.
Come home, beloved,
and I will bring you sugar water.
I learned the political poem about
Mossadeq from my street friends.
They said it was dangerous.
You couldn't say it out loud.
You know ...
1 think that if the West
hadn't interfered -
- the situation in the Middle East
would be different today.
There would have been no shah,
nor mullahs -
- and maybe Iran would have
been a free democratic country.
After the coup against Mossadeq,
the power of the Shah increased.
Like his father,
he wished for Iran -
- to adopt a more
Western lifestyle and culture.
Small and big companies
from all over the world -
- were, like the classic gold diggers,
attracted by the black gold.
We were still living there.
And as time went by, the gap between
ourselves and Denmark widened.
Iran had become
our second fatherland.
My father's letters to his sister
were less frequent -
- and I grew up sensing
that we were only visitors -
- when we came to Denmark for
summer vacation every other year.
My father's letter to his sister,
1958:
"It's getting increasingly difficult
to find the time to write.
We are extremely busy
with road projects.
The family is well, and Annette
has just started high school.
The oil wells pumped blood
into the Iranian economy.
We'd gotten rid of the British,
but now had the Americans instead.
During the reign of the Shah,
Americans in Iran felt superior.
The Shah passed a law that offered
immunity to American soldiers.
But among the people, there was
growing resentment of the Americans.
Western influence
provided the Shah with enemies -
- both among intellectuals
and religious people.
A certain Ayatollah Khomeini,
then a high-ranking priest -
- in the sacred city of Qom,
opposed the Shah.
He accused the Shah
of degrading the Iranian people -
- to be inferior
to an American dog.
For if you ran over a dog in America,
you'd be penalized in court.
But should an American, according to
the new law, run over an Iranian -
- he could do so
without being punished.
The Shah then banished Khomeini
and condemned him to a life in exile.
The Shah was usually much more
severe with his opponents.
His secret police
was feared by everyone.
There was no freedom or justice.
I mean, no freedom of expression
or freedom of the press.
There was great disparity
between the rich and the poor.
And anyone, who criticized this,
was imprisoned or executed.
The demarcation lines were being
drawn, but not many realized it.
I was 19 and worked as
an English newscaster on Iranian TV.
Although I was aware of the political
tension, I chose to turn a blind eye.
I loved life in Tehran.
It was my city.
I was part of it all.
And on the face of it -
- there was no difference between
we foreigners and Iranians.
But a proper Iranian girl
did not date, did not kiss -
- and certainly did not have sex
before marriage.
But that's what one did.
Marriages were usually arranged
by the male heads of the family.
My girlfriends were expected
to be virgins.
Those who weren't,
had it fixed at a clinic.
The Shah grew
in his own image of himself -
- and increasingly lost touch
with reality.
He crowned himself
emperor of all emperors:
Shah in Shah.
The entire international
political elite was in attendance -
- at one of the cradles of
Westem culture, Persepolis -
- to celebrate the 2500-year
anniversary of the Persian empire.
Celebrating Persia's 2500-year
anniversary, the people -
- led by the Shah, emperor -
- Mohammad Reza
Pahlavi Arya Mehr, Shah in Shah -
- show their respect at the tomb of
Cyrus the Great, the first shah.
His camp, if you can call it that -
- is in the shape of a 5-beam star
representing the 5 continents.
The Danish Royal family
sat in the place of honours.
King Frederik sat
next to the empress -
- and Queen Ingrid had the honour of
sitting next to the Shah himself.
Your Majesties, Honoured
Presidents, Your Highnesses -
- Eminences, Excellences,
First ladies and Gentlemen.
As in a fairy tale, there were some
the Shah had forgotten to swear in.
As in a fairy tale, there were some
the Shah had forgotten to swear in.
The religious leaders of the country.
Who would have guessed that the
days of his monarchy were numbered.
Death to the Shah!
Death to the Shah ...
When the revolution came -
- my father was retired,
and we had returned to Europe.
I experienced the revolution from afar.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
There were people
from all layers of society.
And there were young women
from my circle.
I was against the Shah and supported
the Islamic Revolution.
Many others did so, too, but not
necessarily for religious reasons.
I am going on a journey ...
The Shah fled. He knocked on doors
in one country after another -
- looking up friends from his days
of greatness, but in vain.
No one would offer him asylum.
I rejoiced on the day
Khomeini returned to Tehran.
If you look closely at the footage,
you'll see me in the front row -
- as part of the chain
forming in front of Khomeini.
The Great Ayatollah Has Returned
When Khomeini gave his first speech
in Behesht-Zahra -
- I sensed from his voice that
he was a person yearning for power -
-who,
instead of saying "we" -
- said "I will shut
the mouth of this government.”
"I will form a new government."
As if he was planning
his own private political revenge.
1 will form a government.
1 will form a government
backed by the people.
1 do this, knowing that I have
the support of the people ...
In his tone of voice
there was no love of the poor.
So, I quickly became
one of his opponents.
1 found it hard to keep quiet.
I didn't hide what I stood for,
and soon after I was arrested.
Jail was a very painful experience.
And for the first time in my life,
I felt genuine fear.
One day, when I was taken
from my cell on my daily walk -
- I saw people walking through
an intersection in the distance.
In my despair, I wished
that I could call out to them -
- and tell people what goes on
behind these high walls.
About all the people tortured
and executed here every day.
I am so sorry to hear
what you had to go through.
Did you expect something different
from the Islamic Revolution?
Yes, we expected it to get better -
- and we expected more justice.
And that women
would achieve equality.
For a brief moment, we thought
that real change was coming.
Its been many years
since the Islamic Revolution -
- and there are still
a lot of problems in Iran.
Jails are still full of free-thinking
people. Many of them women.
The revolution changed many lives.
Destinies were moved about
as pawns in the political game -
- and the West was flooded
with Iranian refugees.
I've travelled to Qom.
I never thought
I'd ever come to this place.
Qom is the city of the mullahs.
It's one of the holiest places in Iran.
This is where
the Islamic Revolution was born.
If I want to understand the country
50 dear to me -
- I've realized,
that I have to see Qom.
A Dervish!
I haven't seen a Dervish in ages.
It's as if time has stood still -
- and nothing has changed since
One Thousand and One Nights.
This city of the mullahs has a female
guardian angel: The Holy Masume.
I am visiting Seyyed,
whom I met in Tehran.
Every other week he goes home
to his family in Qom.
People here are strong believers
and practice their religion.
They are very religious in general.
You must earn your place
to be in Qom.
If you sleep here for three nights,
you'll earn a place in heaven.
You have now slept here one night.
God willing you'll be back one night
each year, and heaven will open up.
This family follows
the religious recipe on how to live.
They receive me as a family member
because we share a language -
-and I can understand
what they tell me.
In their eyes I'm an equal, even
though I belong to a different faith.
This is the daughter of my son.
I love her very much,
as she is my first grandchild.
There's a picture of it ...
It must be in the conclusion
or the introduction.
Look, the 'insert' key.
My grandparents didn't have
the opportunity to get an education -
- so they're illiterate.
Everything is run by computers
these days.
In Iran you can also get your
Koran lessons through the computer.
I'm fascinated by the fact that you can
get any information by pressing a key.
1 would like to study
computer engineering.
Computers contain a wondrous world.
I can see
that dreams are the same everywhere.
No Entry for Men
Isn't it a little loose?
My mother was 14, when she married.
She was very young.
As she was so young, she says
that I don't have to marry that early.
There's no place
like a father's home.
You cannot enter the Mosque,
if you're not wearing your chador.
They won't let you in
without a chador.
This chador feels inhumanly heavy -
- compared to the one I wore
with such ease in my childhood.
- compared to the one I wore
with such ease in my childhood.
Look!
Once again I'm part of it all.
In the holiest of cities, I enter
the holiest of places: the mosque.
Here I see the men dressed in black
that I used to fear so.
I witness the ritual, that 've felt
uneasy about since childhood.
|listen closely to the words.
It's a prayer to the Holy Zeynab.
She was captured 1400 years ago -
- and humiliated by having to walk all
the way to Damascus unveiled.
Her humiliation is still bewailed.
Every Friday
they come here to grieve.
Through sensing the suffering
of this holy woman -
- the men unburden their hearts
with real tears.
All religions have rituals
of such intensity -
- that they instil fear
in the unconsecrated.
I can understand the words,
the chanting of the men -
- but the ritual
still makes me ill at ease.
I come from
an entirely different world.
How can these two worlds reconcile?
Or simply meet?
I'm a Shia-Muslim -
-but that is
because of my parents.
- But you do believe in God?
- Yes, I believe.
I love Ged, but I don't understand
why the rules only apply to women.
I always wondered about
our Islamic laws.
If a woman cheats on her husband
with another man -
- our Islamic state may stone her.
But a man may have five legal wives
and forty temporary marriages.
Why?
What kind of law is this?
The man is worth more than a woman.
Why?
This law should be changed.
It's out of date -
- and not appropriate
for present times -
- with half the workforce in Iran
being women.
Did God create me, a woman,
just to make me suffer?
I always pray: "Holy Masume, you are
a woman who knows a woman's pain.”
Do we not have the right to live?
Should we not have a life?
Isn't it all just suffering?
I care very much
for the people here.
Their stories fill me with grief.
I feel like one of them and like a
stranger at one and the same time.
When you lived here,
you were privileged.
You could choose when to act like
a Persian, and when to be Western.
Does anything tie us together?
Do we have anything in common?
You, from a wealthy Western home
and with a Western schooling.
And me from a religious, traditional
home and an Islamic schooling.
It must be our sense of justice,
that tie us together.
Yes, we have our wish for justice
in common.
Yes, we have our wish for justice
in common.
But the freedom
to make our own choices in life -
- that is a privilege
that sets us apart from each other.
Now I'm leaving.
But in my mind, I will never leave
this land and these people.