Being a Zoroastrian in Iran today [Outgoing Special Iran : 5/10]
Article published in 06/06/2005 Issue
By Célia CHAUFFOUR
in Yazd
Translated by Delphine DION
Zoroastrianism is more than 2,000 years old. The religion of fire appeared in pre-Islamic Iran, and endured across empires, wars, and the Islamic revolution. In Yazd, located in the centre of the country, the region where Khatami, the outgoing President, was born, young Zoroastrians are as fervent as the previous generations, but they are connected to the satellite dish and use broadband to surf on the web. A portrait of a youth devoted to Zoroaster (or Zarathustra) and new technologies.
Outgoing Special IRAN : 5/10
Behind her flat screen, she chats with disconcerting skill, whether the language is English or Farsi. Homa, 22, an English language student, who also works in one of the town’s Internet cafés, perfectly juggles two languages. She could also chat in three languages. Because, under the headscarf and the Islamic dress, lurks a Zoroastrian– one of the 3,000 to 4,000 worshippers of Zoroastrianism in Yazd, 800 kilometres to the east of Tehran.
With her family and friends, Homa speaks only in Zoroastrian. Farsi is confined to public life, university, and her Internet café.
Once she gets home, Homa engages in what has become a ritual. It is not a matter of religion, but of reconquered femininity. As soon as possible, she swaps the black cloth that envelops her for a pair of jeans and a colourful tanktop. With her hair loose and a smile on her face, Homa shows her real face.
She proudly sports a pendant that was hidden in the folds of her chador. It is the Zoroastrian symbol, the Faravahar, that represents an old man and bird’s wings made from three layers of feathers, which is related to the triple doctrine of Zoroastrianism: speak, think and act with benevolence. Pious? Above all, Homa has been educated in and is devoted to the precepts of a religion that delivers her from Islamic shackles. She is also the only woman in her family to be able to read the Avesta, the Zoroastrian “Bible”, written in Dindabir.
Five days of pleasure and Epicureanism
Every year in spring, Zoroastrians celebrate their new year, the equivalent of the Muslim Nowruz. Arriving from all over the country and sometimes from the United States or from India, they meet about 10 kilometres from Yazd, for five days of festivities, incantations, and meals washed down with plenty of wine and dances. In the middle of the desert, between the Dasht-e Kavir and the Dasht-e Lut, the watchword is wellbeing. “Our prophet Zoroaster told us to be happy and to forget negative feelings”, says Shirin, a fifty-year-old retired teacher.
Born about 1,000 years ago BC, Zoroaster turned the Indo-Iranian worship of Mazdeism, into a monotheistic religion, centred on only one God, Ahura Mazda. Zoroastrianism is one of the first religions to honour an all-mighty and invisible god. Under the reign of the Sassanids, Zoroastrianism was even set up as the state religion.
Back to the celebrations, in the middle of the desert. Far from the prevailing Islamic rules, the pandje celebration is also a unique opportunity for women to take off the scarf in public. With good reason, Muslims are not allowed to attend and the military keep watch.
The Zoroastrian calendar marks other celebrations. “Each day of the month has its own name. When the name of the month and the name of the day coincide, we only celebrate it in private. This is because we have to abide by Islamic rules, and our only public holiday is on Friday, as is the case with Iranian Muslims”, Shirin explains. Therefore, Friday is also the day of prayer for Zoroastrians. In Yazd, they attend the Ateshkadash temple of fire, built in the centre of the town in 1934 on land belonging to the Association of Persian Zoroastrians of India. Every Friday, men and women worship the eternal flame.
Homa admits that some of her friends are Muslims, because “how could it be otherwise when one attends university” she points out. But she also explains that their mutual taboos come up against intermarriage between the two denominations. “If I marry, I will marry a Zoroastrian, in the same way that a Muslim can only marry a Muslim woman”. The fact remains that the religious identity does not prevail over national feeling. There is no exaggerated sense of community identity: “We feel as much Iranian as Zoroastrian. Zoroastrianism is only a religion, on no account is it akin to citizenship”, Homa says with a smile.
A tolerated but badly integrated minority
Kuros Niknom, who was born in Yazd, represents the 20,000 to 40,000 Zoroastrians of Iran in the Majlis, the Iranian Parliament. The Zoroastrian community of Yazd has several denominational nursery schools and another school for young Zoroastrians aged 7 to 11. Access to the media, especially “Persian”, the Zoroastrian monthly, is tolerated. As far as radio and television are concerned, it is useless to expect a minority denominational channel in a country where the media are under strict control. That leaves the satellite. It is officially forbidden, but most of the homes in Iran are connected.
The constitution of the Islamic Republic acknowledges the rights of the Zoroastrian minority, such as freedom of worship, but they are subject to intangible principles, such as Islamic criminal law or the two years of national service, which are compulsory for young adults.
Longing to discover other places, particularly the West, part of the Zoroastrian youth is ready to leave. “ Many young people aged 18 to 25 decide to flee conservative Iran and its difficult living conditions. “They usually emigrate to the United States to study or to find a job there” admits Eshqan, a 20 year-old mechanical engineering student at the university of Yazd, one of the most famous in Iran.
Although they are Iranian citizens and holders of a passport stamped by the Islamic Republic of Iran, young Zoroastrians can easily get an American visa.
“Everyday life is too trying here. Fortunately, my religion allows me to drink and to dance if I want”, Eshqan explains. What about the risk of buying alcoholic beverages under a tough regime where prohibition is one of the greatest concerns? “No, it is very easy to buy alcoholic drinks here. Whatever you want, beer, vodka, whisky, you just have to go and see one of the many secret dealers. As for wine, we make it ourselves, following the example of many Muslim families who own small vineyards” he answers. Sometimes policemen catch a young man who has come to get alcohol or is still drunk. “But it will just be a minor unpleasantness”, asserts Eshqan, a young hothead who is determined to have fun in spite of the rules imposed by one of the toughest Islamic regimes in the world.
But it is not all roses. There are some flies in the ointment, such as discrimination on the labour market. Nadia, 24, has got a degree in economics. Because her surname betrays her religion, she has been unemployed for two years. It is true that the Iranian labour market is top-heavy, but her religion and sex do not help.
Some lines of work are totally inaccessible, like the bakery trade, or teaching. “Under the reign of the last Shah of Iran, we had access to all these jobs but after the Islamic revolution, the situation changed fundamentally”, Shirin reveals.
Now, with President Khatami’s mandate coming to an end, the rights of the Zoroastrian minority are gaining a new lease of life. In Yazd, some Zoroastrians have been allocated a chair of Education.
But the future is worrying. “If Rafsandjani becomes president, we will have to expect the regime to be tougher for us, as well as for the Shiites”, Eshqan points out. “Will I vote? Yes, I might go to the polls. But my vote will be useless. It will be swamped among that of the Muslim majority. I belong to a minority that has no influence on the national political scene.” Eshqan attacks the futility of the political classes, “right wing, left wing, it amounts to the same thing.”
© CAUCAZ.COM | Article published in 06/06/2005 Issue | By Célia CHAUFFOUR
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