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Tuesday 2009-05-19 - Khuzestan, Iran
Nomads in Iran
We leave 15 minutes late, at 08:15, for our bus trip through Khuzestan on our way to Esfahān. The Khuzis are an old people, of which the real origin is unknown: they weren´t Persians, but not Arabic either, living in this are before either group arrived here. There are also Bakhtiari in this area, nomads who still move around with their livestock here — alas we don´t meet any. Iranian policy towards the nomads is quite liberal: they are not forced to settle down and can continue their way of life and move around, although somewhat coordinated so groups don´t hinder each other. Of course they do have to obey the law of the country and the children have to go to school: in the past there was a lot of analphabetism among them, but now young teachers (called the ¨mobile education brigade¨) are actually moving around with the nomads so the children get an education.
In a more general sense, separatism isn´t allowed, but culture and language are: for instance primary schools can teach in the Kurdish language, and the language can be studied as an extra subject at the University. There is — more or less — religious freedom, in particular with respect to the religions ¨of the book¨ (Islam, Judaism and Christianity) but proselytizing is strictly forbidden.
Drug arrest
We make a short stop at a little restaurant on a hill beside the road, a little before Bāgh Malek, where we watch an episode in a police series — live. The police are parked beside the road and are stopping and checking cars. Right in front of our eyes, they make a catch: a car that is transporting drug (apparently we´re on a drug trafficking route here). The two men in the car are arrested, and chained to a street lamp with one pair of handcuffs binding them together. One is meek, the other tries to talk to the policemen, apparently arguing he was only a passenger — in vain. They´re in the burning sun, and get a bottle of water to drink. A while later a police pickup truck arrives: the men are put in the back and chained to the railing, and then taken away.
Petroglyphs
Around Izeh, in the The Natural-Historical Landscape of Izeh (on Iran’s “tentative list” of World Heritage sites), we admire Elamite petroglyphs at two different sites: Narsi Na (Koul Farah) and Tarisha (Ashkoft Salman). Amazingly hardly any tourist comes here, but the location is away from a little-traveled road and a long distance from Esfahān. At the second site we’re guided by a local herder who guided scientists exploring this site many years ago. Although it’s little-known, there is a lot to see, and even though the reliefs are partly badly damaged by erosion (rain, probably acid rain) they are quite impressive. We can see lines of people offering gifts to the king, quite similar to the scenes depicted at Persepolis.
Unfortunately I´m stuck partway through with an empty camera battery, with the backup far away in the bus — there´s no time to walk back and up to the rocks again.
Paranoia
After a leisurely picnic lunch in a little park in Izeh (eagerly watched by the locals) we continue along the mountainous road — on the right a beautiful blue-green lake that I cannot find on my maps. A little farther on, we make a photo stop, but the lake can hardly be seen from here any more. Still, it´s a beautiful view, and we stand around a little, watching and taking pictures of the landscape.
Suddenly a young man comes racing up towards us on his motor bike, stops, and walks towards our driver and guide, starting a heated discussion, pointing into the valley, and shouting at them. He´s obviously very excited — it looks as though he´s in a panic. It takes a while for us to get what is happening: what is he so excited about? It turns out he´s from the village way down in the valley (we can only just see the houses), and his womenfolk are walking around unveiled! And we (men among us) are watching that, and that´s not allowed! And we have these modern cameras, that allow us to see it all close-up, and with which we can see right through their clothes.
It takes a long while for our driver to calm him down — we never quite understand how — and finally they part as friends, embracing each other. The man gets back on his bike and drives off back to his village, while we continue our trip in the other direction.
It´s a long way…
From Izeh where we had our lunch, it was still another 330km to Esfahān — it seemed as though we had all the time in the world. But after meeting our paranoid friend (more leasure time) we pass through Dehdez, and here the mountain roads start in earnest: it´s much steeper now, with many hairpins and a maximum speed of 30km per hour; the road seems to be dangerous as well: we see skull-and-bones on warning signs along the road. Just before 20:00 it´s still another 115km to Esfahān, and the sun has disappeared behind the mountains: it´s getting dark fast.
Our tour leader Noyan tries to keep us amused by declamating old Persian poetry, and a little later he does a historical quiz (prize: a book of historical maps). But we´re all tired and grumpy, though at 22:45 the mood lifts when we see a lot of lights in the distance: obviously a big city. Esfahān? No, it´s Shahr-e Kord — still 80km from Esfahān… At least now the road gets better and we can make better speed. Still, it´s almost 02:00 when we´re finally at our hotel, and we haven´t even had dinner!
At least, for those who want it, the hotel can arrange for a light meal to be brought to our rooms: Carla and I share one: a plate with two buns, a fried egg, some cheese, and a packet of milk (next morning we find out this little snack cost 100,000 Rials: more than €7.50!). When we finally go to sleep it´s 03:00.
