Thursday, November 27, 2008

Letter to Barack


November 27, 2008


Dear President-elect Barack Obama,


I am the grandmother of a 7 year old little girl who I do not get to see very often since I moved to Washington, D.C. in March 2007. But in August of that year, I brought her here to spend a week with me. During her short stay, I took her to the White House and we talked about the current president who hurt innocent people in Iraq and Afghanistan. Not more than a minute had passed that while she posed for pictures for me, she turned to a tourist standing nearby and said to her, "That's where the BAD president lives."



So, I write to you today, Barack, because my granddaughter deserves a GOOD president and a GOOD government and a GOOD world in which to live. She deserves a country that cares about its citizens, a country that provides her excellent healthcare, a superb free college education, and a future full of promise.








Our little girl deserves a nature-rich planet. She deserves to have a healthy, happy neighborhood in which to live and breathe. She deserves to run and play allergy-free, free of the dust of nearby cement plants, free from cancer causing chemicals in the food she eats and toys she plays with, free from depleted uranium and carbon emissions in the atmosphere and free from the global warming that is now killing the polar bears and other plants and animals she may never get to see in the wild.




She deserves to grow up in a country that she is proud of, so as she recites the Pledge of Allegiance every day in school she'll know that "..liberty and justice for all.." is the hallmark of our country's domestic AND foreign policy, that we seek dialogue, diplomacy and respect for human rights of ALL people not just American people.



She deserves never not ever to experience the likes of the injustices of Katrina and the Jena 6, the wars and occupations of Iraq and Afghanistan, the horrors of Abu Ghraib, Mahmoudiya and Guantanamo. She deserves a Commander-in-Peace who will bring her stepdaddy and all his buddies home and never start another war.

So, Barack, when I bring my granddaughter back to the White House in a not too distant future, I hope she and all the other tourists from home and abroad will be able to say, “That's where the GREAT President Barack Obama lives.”


Dylan and her daddy Adam my son, and me

Desiree Fairooz
CODEPINK:Women for Peace
Washington, D.C.




Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Dear All,Please check out Jodie's latest blog from Iran (text version below):
http://codepink4peace.org/blog/2008/11/day-3-jodies-diary/
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!
Janna

Medea and I (CODEPINK co-founders) are spending the week in Iran on a citizen’s diplomacy visit, engaging with Iranian women’s groups and officials to build bridges and create peace from the ground up. We arrived Friday. Here’s a bit of our experience Sunday (bit of time delay in getting this up…sorry!)It is our third day in Iran and we feel like we’ve been here a month. We are all a bit bleary eyed, with too little sleep. Poor Ann Wright has been hit with the flu, but she doesn’t miss a meeting.

Leila Zand, our trip leader from Fellowship of Reconciliation is managing three jobs while trying to handle her wild bunch (Medea and myself.) Medea and I aren’t great at following rules, especially when they don’t make sense. So to be in a form of a straight jacket probably brings our rebellious spirit. Leila has to carry too much of our pent up energy and desires to see and do as much as possible in this short trip.

We are all walking the tightrope of wanting to bring more groups back. This is the purpose of the trip and what we complained to Ahmadinejad about in September—the complaint that led to this trip. To break open the knot between Iran and the US we need more citizen diplomacy and Medea and I surrender to the need and agree to what I am now calling Slow Activism. (I think there is something in this I want to develop further with my Slow Food and Slow Journalism friends when I get home.)

There are people we have introductions to that we can’t meet because it would upset the government, at whose very consent we are here–having been denied entry previously. So we are ALL on our best behavior. I even think I have been able to keep my scarf on much more than the last trip. It also helps us to better understand the terrain. Our friends here learn how to navigate the political land mines. International recognition here is a ticket to a freedom most Iranians who are politically active don’t have.

Habib knows how to use a vacuum and seems to know they are inherent in the structure of our visit. Promises of meetings melt away and he is there with the replacement. We were supposed to be at the US Embassy this morning, a tour prepared by the government—it was even announced in the press. But that and a meeting with the Foreign Minister were announced cancelled when we woke. So Habib whisked us off to the a War Library at the Center for Artists. A pretty serious library of books about war from around the world including 800 they had published or arranged to publish themselves. The director had been a journalist in the 8-year war and has given his life to telling its story to make sure another doesn’t happen. A great partner for our War is So Over message….and a reminder it takes a lot of pictures, words and movies to tell that story.Rostan came over to meet us when we returned from our daily dive into the horrors of war. Lucky we love Habib so much because he manages to spend most of his time with us breaking our hearts and taking us deeper and deeper into the devastation of the 8-year war. I think when I leave I will feel like I was there.

We wanted to ride a subway and we wanted to go shopping—if meetings cannot be arranged, then please take us into the belly of the city! We walked for blocks to the subway entrance. Public transportation is priced right—20 cents for the subway and 2 cents for the bus. It was about 3:30pm and getting close to rush hour so the train was packed and we had a choose between the men’s train or the women’s. We chose the men’s train and it was packed. We had to push our way in to fit and of course all eyes were on the Westerners. We went five stops standing and mashed together, the other women on the train were young or with a partner.

We emerged from the train to a bustling street. There were hundreds if not thousands of women in long black chadors. We had arrived at a community much more religious than the middle of downtown were we live. It was a fantastic bazaar which, unlike that of Isfahan where it is mostly crafts, seemed to cater to the needs of the community (housewares were in abundance.) Rostan told us that a wives’ family has to buy what is needed to create the new home, and all around us, young girls and their mothers where laden in housewares. A tiled, arched entrance swallowed us and we got lost in catacombs of alleys laden with wares and Victoria Secret-styled stalls with sexier lingerie than I have ever seen. We found our way to a center with vaulted tiled ceilings. Medea found a fantastic set of pink silverware, 33 pieces for $20. Needing a toilet we learned there are mosques almost everywhere and they are the best place to look. We found a mosque just outside and were greeted with warmth and invited in.

We were a happy bunch on an adventure, Medea making friends with the beet sellers and bent on finding a manteau that wasn’t so hot.As darkness engulfed this neighborhood and the stalls closed at the call to prayer, we descended to the subway again. There were hundreds of people, all in black, pushing to get through. It was awesome to behold. We thought of going up to take a cab but realized at rush hour it would take even longer. So we poured ourselves into the throng and decided this time we would try the women’s car.

What fun! We had a delightful conversation facilitated by a young woman who knew a bit of English. I love the curiosity of the people in Iran—they simply stop us on the street to know where we are from and it reminds me of our visits to Iraq. As I would come home to Venice Beach after being in Iraq and know just how closed a society I live in. There is no curiosity in those streets. Just people going somewhere, and when I have the openness that lingers when I come home, people think I am crazy. All the young women in the subway car have graduated from college—an urban planner, sociologist, doctor, teacher and mother’s with their young children. It is much saner than the men’s car and we get the wisdom of the separation. We went a stop past ours to find chador stores for Medea. We walked for blocks and blocks with no luck, finally there seemed to be one that was made of cotton. She went inside to try it on and I met a student who came up to ask if I was serious about the big peace sign on my back. “Glad you are here for PEACE,”” said Essa Abrahani, a student of mechanical engineering. “Congratulations for being here, US idea of Iran is colored by revolution and 8 year war. Come visit and see who we really are,” was his message to Obama.

Medea emerged with a new outfit that they even managed to hem for her. We had dinner in a richly layered restaurant full of music, courting couples, big families and the ever-present kabob. We had a fast dinner to be home for our weekly staff conference call on Skype from the internet café—and a late night of catching up on emails and blogs.
http://mail.google.com/mail/?shva=1#inbox/11ddbb3344bb74f5

Dear All,Please check out Jodie's latest blog from Iran (text version below):
http://codepink4peace.org/blog/2008/11/day-3-jodies-diary/
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!Janna
Medea and I (CODEPINK co-founders) are spending the week in Iran on a citizen’s diplomacy visit, engaging with Iranian women’s groups and officials to build bridges and create peace from the ground up. We arrived Friday. Here’s a bit of our experience Sunday (bit of time delay in getting this up…sorry!)It is our third day in Iran and we feel like we’ve been here a month. We are all a bit bleary eyed, with too little sleep. Poor Ann Wright has been hit with the flu, but she doesn’t miss a meeting. Leila Zand, our trip leader from Fellowship of Reconciliation is managing three jobs while trying to handle her wild bunch (Medea and myself.) Medea and I aren’t great at following rules, especially when they don’t make sense. So to be in a form of a straight jacket probably brings our rebellious spirit. Leila has to carry too much of our pent up energy and desires to see and do as much as possible in this short trip. We are all walking the tightrope of wanting to bring more groups back. This is the purpose of the trip and what we complained to Ahmadinejad about in September—the complaint that led to this trip. To break open the knot between Iran and the US we need more citizen diplomacy and Medea and I surrender to the need and agree to what I am now calling Slow Activism. (I think there is something in this I want to develop further with my Slow Food and Slow Journalism friends when I get home.)There are people we have introductions to that we can’t meet because it would upset the government, at whose very consent we are here–having been denied entry previously. So we are ALL on our best behavior. I even think I have been able to keep my scarf on much more than the last trip. It also helps us to better understand the terrain. Our friends here learn how to navigate the political land mines. International recognition here is a ticket to a freedom most Iranians who are politically active don’t have. Habib knows how to use a vacuum and seems to know they are inherent in the structure of our visit. Promises of meetings melt away and he is there with the replacement. We were supposed to be at the US Embassy this morning, a tour prepared by the government—it was even announced in the press. But that and a meeting with the Foreign Minister were announced cancelled when we woke. So Habib whisked us off to the a War Library at the Center for Artists. A pretty serious library of books about war from around the world including 800 they had published or arranged to publish themselves. The director had been a journalist in the 8-year war and has given his life to telling its story to make sure another doesn’t happen. A great partner for our War is So Over message….and a reminder it takes a lot of pictures, words and movies to tell that story.Rostan came over to meet us when we returned from our daily dive into the horrors of war. Lucky we love Habib so much because he manages to spend most of his time with us breaking our hearts and taking us deeper and deeper into the devastation of the 8-year war. I think when I leave I will feel like I was there.We wanted to ride a subway and we wanted to go shopping—if meetings cannot be arranged, then please take us into the belly of the city! We walked for blocks to the subway entrance. Public transportation is priced right—20 cents for the subway and 2 cents for the bus. It was about 3:30pm and getting close to rush hour so the train was packed and we had a choose between the men’s train or the women’s. We chose the men’s train and it was packed. We had to push our way in to fit and of course all eyes were on the Westerners. We went five stops standing and mashed together, the other women on the train were young or with a partner. We emerged from the train to a bustling street. There were hundreds if not thousands of women in long black chadors. We had arrived at a community much more religious than the middle of downtown were we live. It was a fantastic bazaar which, unlike that of Isfahan where it is mostly crafts, seemed to cater to the needs of the community (housewares were in abundance.) Rostan told us that a wives’ family has to buy what is needed to create the new home, and all around us, young girls and their mothers where laden in housewares. A tiled, arched entrance swallowed us and we got lost in catacombs of alleys laden with wares and Victoria Secret-styled stalls with sexier lingerie than I have ever seen. We found our way to a center with vaulted tiled ceilings. Medea found a fantastic set of pink silverware, 33 pieces for $20. Needing a toilet we learned there are mosques almost everywhere and they are the best place to look. We found a mosque just outside and were greeted with warmth and invited in. We were a happy bunch on an adventure, Medea making friends with the beet sellers and bent on finding a manteau that wasn’t so hot.As darkness engulfed this neighborhood and the stalls closed at the call to prayer, we descended to the subway again. There were hundreds of people, all in black, pushing to get through. It was awesome to behold. We thought of going up to take a cab but realized at rush hour it would take even longer. So we poured ourselves into the throng and decided this time we would try the women’s car. What fun! We had a delightful conversation facilitated by a young woman who knew a bit of English. I love the curiosity of the people in Iran—they simply stop us on the street to know where we are from and it reminds me of our visits to Iraq. As I would come home to Venice Beach after being in Iraq and know just how closed a society I live in. There is no curiosity in those streets. Just people going somewhere, and when I have the openness that lingers when I come home, people think I am crazy. All the young women in the subway car have graduated from college—an urban planner, sociologist, doctor, teacher and mother’s with their young children. It is much saner than the men’s car and we get the wisdom of the separation. We went a stop past ours to find chador stores for Medea. We walked for blocks and blocks with no luck, finally there seemed to be one that was made of cotton. She went inside to try it on and I met a student who came up to ask if I was serious about the big peace sign on my back. “Glad you are here for PEACE,”” said Essa Abrahani, a student of mechanical engineering. “Congratulations for being here, US idea of Iran is colored by revolution and 8 year war. Come visit and see who we really are,” was his message to Obama. Medea emerged with a new outfit that they even managed to hem for her. We had dinner in a richly layered restaurant full of music, courting couples, big families and the ever-present kabob. We had a fast dinner to be home for our weekly staff conference call on Skype from the internet café—and a late night of catching up on emails and blogs.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Medea's Blog Citizen Diplomacy trip to Iran nov 2008

CODEPINK goes official…in Iran
Medea Benjamin
Before our first meeting, Jodie and I took a morning walk, looking at the stores, watching the people. They were watching us, too, especially Jodie. At first she wondered why people were looking at her feet, then we realized that between her long skirt and high heels, her ankles and some bare skin were showing. That’s a no-no here.
So when a policeman approached us, asked where we were staying and said, “Come with me,” we wondered if we might be getting arrested for Jodie’s bare ankles. He was smiling, though, so we followed him to the police car. It turns out that he and his partner, who was sitting in the police car, were just really nice guys who wanted to give us a lift back to the hotel. We joked around with them, took a photo of me in the police car, and rode back to the hotel in style!
Our first meeting was with the head of the U.S. desk in the foreign ministry. He is handling the official part of our visit, and had arranged for us to meet with two of the women members of Parliament. So we bundled into his car and drove there.
Our meeting was in the incredibly ornate old Parliament, built in 1906, bombed by the British, rebuilt, and eventually superceded by the new Parliament. They gave us a tour of this wondrous work of art—the room where the Parliament convened, the shah’s coronation room, the sitting rooms where private meetings were held. We gazed in awe of the craftsmanship and beauty. The sparkling coronation room was replete, head to toe, with cut and sketched mirrors and exquisite chandeliers. The wood-carved desks and tables were so intricate that each piece must have taken a lifetime to complete.
As we were being served tea and pistachios in one of the sitting rooms, the two women from Parliament arrived and sat in the oversized chairs across from us. Next to them were two men, who they introduced as the assistants and notetakers. The older woman, Eftekhari Laleh, looked very pious, covered from head to toe in a black chador. She was a second-term member of Parliament (they have four year terms) who was on the education committee, and she taught religion at one of the universities. The younger woman, Dr. Zohreh Elahian, was a member of the Committee for National Security and Foreign Policy. She was also a medical doctor and worked in a women’s hospital one day a week.
They told us that there were only 8 women in a Parliament of 290 representatives, but they were proud to add that two of the four vice presidents were women. One was in charge of women’s affairs, the other in charge of the environment. Dr. Elahian added that 70 percent of medical specialists were women.
While the women Parliamentarians had relationships with their counterparts from all over the Middle East and Asia, they had never met with U.S. congressional representatives and in fact, our meeting was the first time they had ever met with Americans! They said our visit opened new doors in the relationship between our countries.
Regarding the U.S. elections, Dr. Elahian said that during the campaign, she didn’t see much difference between Obama and McCain in terms of their unconditional support for Israel and their hardline stance about Iran’s nuclear energy program (which they insisted, as does everyone here, that Iran has the right to develop nuclear energy but it was not developing nuclear weapons because that went against their religious beliefs). She also said that while Obama may try to make changes, she realizes that corporations and monied interests have a long history of control in the U.S. and could prevent Obama from fulfilling many of his promises. However, she felt that the American people were tired of warmongering and the politics of invasion. She said the U.S. presence in Afghanistan was only making the security situation worse and that the increase in opium production since the U.S. invasion had negative repercussions in Iran, since the drugs are transported through Iran to Europe. She also expressed sympathy for the suffering people of Gaza and concern about unconditional U.S. support for Israel.
We asked the women about the effects of U.S. sanctions against Iran, and Dr. Elahian explained some of the negative impacts, like making it harder to get radiation treatment for cancer patients. But she added that sanctions had made Iran become more creative and independent scientifically. She boasted that despite the sanctions, Iran is one of a handful of countries that had reached the UN millennium development goals for reducing poverty and curing preventable diseases, and that Iran had made great headway in addressing HIV/AIDS, malaria and tuberculosis.
We tried to get the women to talk about the struggle for women’s rights in Iran, but they insisted that women had full rights. After the formal part of the meeting was over, however, Dr. Elihian said that her female constituents would often come to her office asking for help in matters such as divorce and inheritance—areas in which women do NOT have equal rights.
We ended the meeting exchanging cards and ideas about follow up, including a possible meeting—in a third country—with some U.S. congresswomen.
In our next meeting, with three advisors to the President in the areas of media and communications, diplomatic niceties were dispensed with and the kid gloves came off. The man who did most of the talking was Mr. Kalhor. He had long, gray hair tied back in a ponytail and wore sandals with no socks, giving him the air of an aging hippie. And with his background as a poet and architect, together with his quick smile and twinkling eyes, I assumed he was going to be a gentle, conciliatory kind of guy. That’s why I was shocked when he started to roar like a wounded lion. “Talk to Obama? We don’t want to talk to Obama. What’s the point of making agreements with the United States when the they always renege on their agreements anyway? For the past five decades, the U.S. has been the source of all problems in the Middle East thanks to its support of Zionism. As far as sanctions, we have been living under them just fine for the past 28 years. And if we do talk to Obama, it will be with our own preconditions: full withdrawal of U.S. troops from our entire region and an end to U.S. unconditional support of international Zionism. We don’t need help or goodwill from Obama or anyone in the United States; we need a radical change in U.S. policy—period.”
Whew! For almost two hours, we had a lively back and forth with Mr. Kalhor. At times we got the impression that he was saying things he didn’t really believe. In fact, at one point, he said, “Look, these are not necessarily my positions, they are the positions of this government.” I pointed out that if his job was to convey the Iranian government’s positions to the world in a sympathetic light, then denying the holocaust, threatening Israel’s existence and talking about the international Zionist economic conspiracy was not very good “packaging.” I suggested they would be better off talking about the need to respect the human rights of Palestinians and stop the tragic deaths of U.S. soldiers in unnecessary wars. My comments only brought on a fresh cascade of anger, accusing us of only caring about the lives of U.S. people and proving “just how arrogant America is”.
After almost an hour of Mr. Kalhor’s tirade, the second man, Ali Akbar Javan, finally got a word in edgewise. Although he looked more the part of a conservative bureaucrat, he turned out to the “good cop”, calling for diplomacy. He told us that he traveled quite often internationally with the Ahmedinajad, so he seemed to have the president’s ear, which was good to hear.
At the end of the meeting, I mentioned to Mr. Akbar that I had spent a lot of time in Latin America, and immediately he started speaking Spanish to me. It turns out he had lived in Spain and spoke quite well. We quickly established more of a rapport, joking and exchanging emails.
The meeting with these gentlemen, while difficult, was a good reality check that pushing for dialogue on the part of the Obama administration would not be sufficient. The Iranian government also needs to be convinced that it is worthwhile to negotiate with the U.S.
Our last meeting of the day came as a refreshing renewal after our bout with realpolitik. It was with the group Miles for Peace, our cyclist friends. We met their founder Dr. Rouhani, an impressive man who worked as an elementary particle physicist by day and a peacemaker by night, as well as about 20 young people. We ate the dinner they had prepared for us and exchanged ideas for furthering people-to-people ties. We told them about the YouTubes series we wanted to make called Iran talks to Obama, with Iranians from all walks of life giving advice to the new U.S. president. They loved the idea, and signed up right then and there to be interviewed. Before collapsing, we managed to film five incredibly beautiful, heart-felt interviews. One of the young women didn’t want to be interviewed on camera, but instead wrote her comments to Obama. I include her beautiful words below for your enjoyment.
It was almost 1am when we left, but we felt elated by these beautiful young people with their hearts so full of goodwill.
Warm greetings from this ancient and fascinating land,
Medea
Dear Mr. Obama, I am an Iranian girl, just an ordinary Iranian girl, and I wanted to share some thoughts with you. I know you are a father, a good father, I can tell from the sparkle in your daughters’ eyes. I have a request for you: Whenever you have to make a decision about war—anywhere in the world—please look into your daughters’ eyes and remember that far, far away there are thousands of eyes just as beautiful as those of your children. But these children are living in fear of losing their lives, their parents, their security, their happiness and more. If you believe that you will “save” these children by making war, as your former president believed, please think again. The costs are much greater than you think. I grew up during the Iran-Iraq war. I spent my childhood and school days under constant fire from bombs hitting my city. I touched fear, I lost my friends, it was terrible. I don’t want my children or any children in the world to live through such an awful experience. So please, Mr. Obama, look at those sparkles in your lovely daughters’ eyes and think about a new world without violence and bloodshed. Please… Laya Bidgoli, Tehran, Iran, November 23, 2008

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Medea's Blog Day #1 Iran Citizen Diplomacy

Medea Benjamin November 22, 2008

DAY ONE in Tehran
What an extraordinary day! After arriving at our hotel in the middle of the night, I woke up early raring to go. Our hotel is in a great location downtown, and I took some time before our meetings to buy some beautiful crafts in the nearby stores and chat with the storeowners. After a hearty Iranian breakfast that included delicious tomatoes, cucumbers, fresh eggs, cheese, yoghurt, flat bread and mouth-watering olives, the “work day” began for the three of us—myself, CODEPINK cofounder Jodie Evans and Col. Ann Wright.

Our first meeting was with our dear friend Rostam Pourzal, who works with the anti-sanctions group CASMI. Rostam used to live in Washington DC, but moved back to Iran recently. Thank goodness he came to greet us, because it turned out that the government person who was supposed to set up our schedule today didn’t show up. So Rostam filled in the day for us with an amazing variety of activities and meetings.

First, he brought over a filmmaker, Habib Ahmadzadeh, who works on films that deal with the Iran-Iraq war. Habib took us out to a delicious lunch in a typical, old Persian restaurant where we ate scrumptious lamb, eggplant and kabobs. Then we went to his office, but along the way he stopped to show us the old, abandoned U.S. Embassy. It is now surrounded by murals with anti-American slogans—a stark reminder of the harsh rhetoric emanating from both governments.

In a screening room at his office, Habib showed us one of his beautiful films called Night Bus. It chronicled a fictionalized story that reflected Habib’s own odyssey as a teenage soldier during that war. An 18-year-old Iranian soldier ends up being in charge of transporting 38 Iraqi prisoners of war from the battlefield to an Iranian base. During the adventure-packed ride full of agony, betrayal and bonding, the Iraqi and Iranian men discover their common humanity. We were all weeping when the lights came on, and had a long discussion afterwards about the futility of war. Habib also showed us a short docudrama about the 20-year anniversary of the July 3 downing of an Iranian commercial airline by a US navy ship in which over 200 people died—a terrible tragedy for which the U.S. government has never apologized. There are so many sad pieces of our history that most Americans are unaware of, but that make us seem so callous in the eyes of the victims…

From there we went to a refreshing artists’ park, replete with a beautiful sculpture exhibit, art stores, and a café/vegetarian restaurant inside. Most of the people milling around looked like—and were—painters, writers, playwrights, filmmakers and poets. It was a cultural oasis, with conversations buzzing inside and outside. We added to the animated atmosphere by having a table full of people coming and going to meet and greet us. Most were called by Rostam, but a few—like a nuclear engineer Jodie met—just came by out of curiosity (yes, the pink does stand out). Among those joining us for tea was a famous woman filmmaker named Rakhshan Banietemad, a woman who runs an eco-tourism company, a producer of plays, and several women who work for peace.

We were so thrilled by the conversation that we asked if any of them would be willing to be filmed. We decided that it would be great to ask Iranians from all walks of life to comment on what they would say to Barack Obama if they had the chance. Some of the women were afraid to be videoed, but Rakhshan, who was in a more secure position because of her prominence, agreed. So with the help of Habib as cameraman, I interviewed Rakhshan about US-Iranian relations and what could be done to move our countries toward a more peaceful path. With so many incredible connections being made, our tea turned into dinner (which the Iranians refused to let us pay for) and we didn’t get back to the hotel until about 9:30 pm.


But it turned out that the day was not yet over. At about 10:30pm, while I was checking email at the internet café, two of our dear young friends from the group Miles for Peace showed up. It was great to reunite after our time together in Washington DC. They are so bubbly, so hopeful, so creative, so loving. We heard about some of their upcoming ideas for youth exchanges with the US—soccer matches, swimming the Persian Gulf (!), a bike trip through Iran with 50 Iranian-Americans. All such terrific ideas. We will meet with the larger Miles for Peace group tomorrow evening.


Reflecting on the days’ events, I was struck by how much more open Iran is than I had thought. Yes, we have to wear headscarves and long coats, but that seems so unimportant --although I must say that I feel very claustrophobic covering my head all day. (During lunch at the restaurant, Rostam told me I could take the scarf off, but about 20 minutes later some men came to complain.) I have been comparing the atmosphere here to that of Iraq under Saddam Hussein and here it is very different. People in Iraq were afraid to speak out against Saddam, people in Iran aren’t. We heard criticism of the government while we were still on the plane. Then in customs, when an official asked our guide why we had come to Iran and she replied “trying to make peace,” he laughed and said, “Not with this terrible government of ours.” The taxi drivers complain; western-educated elites complain, businessmen complain. While most wouldn’t want to be filmed venting against their government, they talk to us in an amazingly open fashion, barely looking over their shoulders to see if anyone is listening. I suppose I shouldn’t jump to conclusions after one day, but the atmosphere is much more open than I thought it would be, and that in itself is reason for hope.

Citizen Diplomacy Trip to promote Direct People to People ties Iran

We are just back from a fantastic day. Memories of our first days in Iraq almost 6 years ago strike us as we walk the streets. Medea and I share a tiny room with twin beds, also similar to our Baghdad hotel, but no call to prayer at 4 in the morning outside our window.
I came down from the bedroom this morning for breakfast and we were swept away and now just returning at 10pm. It began when Rostam Pourzal arrived to learn what we wanted from our trip. Immediately he was on the phone with friends. Habib Ahmadzadeh soon arrived. A filmmaker who tells the story of war.
He told us we were too literal when we hear “Death to America or death to Israel”, that they are really calling for an end to the policies of the US Gov’t or Israeli Gov’t that seem very much like apartheid in South Africa. He said that a majority of Iranians are anti-war, he repeated what I have heard so many times from Iranians, “We aren’t warlike, we don’t invade people, we only defend ourselves.” He talked about his mother’s heartache for the American Soldiers who died in Iraq, she lost a son in the war and can feel the grief of those mothers. We asked him about Obama and he responded, “He is a walnut, inside a shell and unknown. But history has taught us how little an individual can do, and that we need to learn how to rely on ourselves.” Medea asked him about Afghanistan, and said that US Ambassador James Dobson, at a recent seminar in Congress, said Iran was funding the Taliban. Both Habib and Rostam laughed, “Taliban are the worst enemy of Iran, worse than the US. The say that if you kill 7 shi’ia you go to heaven.” We went to his offices and watched a powerful film about the cost of war to everyone, The Night Bus. It takes place during the Iran/Iraq war. I was in tears almost through out, he unflinchingly exposes the costs of war to heart, mind, spirit and soul...nothing heroic or beautiful about war. Very different from American war films. He says there is a movement in Iran to turn weapons into pens, or ways to communicate. That is why he makes films. He then showed us a short about the USS Vincente shooting down the Iranian Airliner with 266 people including many women and children, 8 below the age of 2. We never apologized. He works to heal the wounds on both sides. Powerful worker for Peace. He was in the military for many years and suffers from wounds of chemical weapons until today, so he also works with a group against the use of chemical weapons and the support of those who are in need and suffering from their effects. What a big hearted wise man. In his attempts to show us his films there were technical difficulties and he laughed that Americans thought Iranians could have nuclear weapons, they can’t even get high speed internet or get video equipment that works.
At 7pm we were off to a beautifully manicured Park, full of women and college age students with a café called the house of the artists. The café was rich with conversation and everyone looked as if they were a poet or an artist. A nuclear engineer came over to find out who we were; exclaiming that he was educated at Cal State LA. I asked him how close they were to a bomb. He laughed. Said it would be a very long time.
Soon our table was full of amazing women. Women who work for peace, most were about our age, had grown children, had suffered in someway for being outspoken but still fearless. Their faces were full of joy and life and the conversation was at a pitch for hours. We began to work on our project of asking Iranians what they would like to tell Obama. The filmmaker Rakhashan Bani-Etemad sat in the garden with Medea for about 15 minutes of filming with the camera in the hands of Habib. The generosity of everyone is overwhelming, their time, their stories, their passion....we can’t even pay for a meal. Tonight the students from Miles for Peace who bicycled across the US came at about 11:00 to beg Medea for time to take her to see their Iran. They also told us about their plans for a friend to swim the Persian Gulf for peace, and an agreement they have for the US Soccor team to play the Iranian soccor team in April and then 50 Iranian/Americans to come to Iran and bicycle across Iran as they had done across the US.
There is so much more but I am exhausted. Sending love,Jodie

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Your favorite PINK house story is wanted!!

Remember when?

The Washington Times said:

"Code
Pink - a mostly female protest group best known for their pink costumes - has taken up residence in a Northeast house within walking distance of the Capitol. And while some in the politically astute neighborhood say they disagree with Code Pink's views or tactics, they also say the group hasn't proved to be too disruptive a neighbor..."

Salon said:

"Located in a brick row house on Capitol Hill, the Code Pink house is its rallying point for Washington actions. It serves as a base for activists from Code Pink's 250 local chapters around the globe. Inside, the atmosphere resembled a grubby, renegade sorority installation at FAO Schwartz -- the underground headquarters of Barbie's rebellion.."

The Washington Post:
Medea Benjamin, one of the founders of the women's peace group Code Pink, wears pink every single day, and sleeps in it, too.
Her shoulder bag, her wallet and her cellphone are all pink. When she visits Washington from San Francisco to lobby Congress against the war in Iraq, she stays in Code Pink's new group house on Capitol Hill, where nearly everyone wears pink, where her bedspread and her pillow and her bedroom curtains are pink, as are the drinking cups in the kitchen and the flowers that grow out back.
Code Pink's signature color is a bright, vibrant shade, the hue of Barbie dolls and Victoria's Secret panties. It's a color for those who believe that even in the midst of serious --
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/video/2007/03/28/VI2007032801891.html



James' blog:

"The “lone young man stuffing manicotti in the kitchen” has left the Pink House… and although my involvement with the Pinkies has only just begun, my departure from the Pink residence feels like the end of an era… if not for CODE PINK, then at least for me.

For nearly five months I occupied the basement of the CODE PINK DC House, a.k.a. “the Cave,” and I am pleased to report that my time as CODE PINK “caveman” (or “troglodyte”) was one of the happiest, most positive, constructive, and best times of my life."

Please add your favorite house story to share with the world! Just post your story as a comment!

Des, Adam & Dylan