Letters (Nov 29)

Dudster,
you attended our wedding. Yes, I married the lifeguard in August 1977. I was 20. I had graduated from high school in May, was treated to a trip to Germany over the summer and came back with a wedding dress.
Being married, I was given a permanent residency and work permit in Iran. My mother, practical as ever, suggested I become a secretary, just as she had been, a good solid career. So they signed me up for a typing and shorthand class in downtown.

I found a job in September at the Lufthansa Cargo office in downtown. My first job, it was very exciting. My boss was German, my co-workers were a fun group of Armenians. You in the meantime had moved out of the country.

So, we started to settle into our married life, rented a small apartment, collected used furniture and I tried out cooking all kinds of different recipes.
But our peaceful life did not last long.
A year after we got married the atmosphere in Tehran changed. Left-winged student organizations with the help of religious groups under the leadership the Ayatollah who was still exiled in Iraq started to organize demonstrations in the cities.

The people gathered and walked chanting through the streets and it surprised me that young, modern co-workers joined them and I am sure they did not know what they were getting into.
It had become dangerous and my husband would pick me up from work every day. Once we ran to avoid one of these raging crowds and a whistling sound passed over our heads. He later told me that those were shots fired.
At home at night we had to stay inside because a curfew had been enforced. From our living room window we could see down the main street. We would lie on the floor and watch tanks and military vehicles drive up the hill. Soldiers with machine guns would check the neighborhoods.

This was the point where we decided to leave. Whatever regime would take over, it would not be safe for foreigners or religious minorities. We made our plans and on February 3rd, 1979, one day after the Ayatollah landed in Tehran from Paris, with heavy hearts my husband and I boarded that same Air France airplane for Berlin.