5 روز با احمدی نژاد - گزارش فاینانشال تایمز از سفر به فارس

Picture diary: 5 days with Ahmadi-Nejad
By Najmeh Bozorgmehr
Published: April 22 2007 21:48 | Last updated: April 22 2007 21:48

On a five day trip last week to the Fars province of southern Iran president Mahmoud Ahmadi-Nejad promised mass rallies that he would provide everything from swimming pools to better roads and soft bank loans - spending pledges that add up to $3bn. The FT’s Najmeh Bozorgmehr was the only foreign media journalist on the tour. Here is her exclusive diary of her travels with the president

Day One: Monday April 16
Schools in Shiraz, capital of Fars province, have closed so that students can join the tens of thousands flocking to the city sports stadium to hear president Mahmoud Ahmadi-Nejad speak.

There is not enough space for the crowds of people, many of whom hold letters containing personal petitions addressed to the president.

The letters are collected by designated officials, adding them to the 5m already collected on Mr Ahmadi-Nejad’s 26 previous provincial trips. Only three more of Iran’s 30 provinces have yet to be visited before the president reaches the mid-way point of his term in August.

Thousands are held back at the gates of the Artesh (army) stadium by soldiers, who warn people they could die under the pressure of the crowd inside. Behind the podium, many people have been laid out on the ground after passing out.

“Let me die, but see the president,” says Morteza, a tearful 12-year boy who has been stopped at the entrance.

Inside the stadium, Marzieh, a 48-year-old woman, clasps the iron fence separating people from the president. Holding her floral black chador tight, she is trying to find a way to give her letter to Mr Ahmadi-Nejad. “I just want to ask him to get a job for my son,” she explains.

Mr Ahmadi-Nejad appears with a big smile, waving. The crowd shouts out how much they love him, and he replies that their feelings are reciprocated.

His speech follows a pattern that will soon become familiar to journalists on the trip. He begins by extolling the path of the prophet Mohammad, founder of Islam, and moves on to warn about “bullying powers” and the international pressure over Iran’s nuclear programme. People chant the national slogan: “Nuclear energy is our inalienable right”.

But the crowd is impatient for more local news. Mr Ahmadi-Nejad offers a string of promises on improving roads, railroads, oil and gas, and cultural projects.

He hits the mark. People leave the stadium happy, dropping letters in special pick-up points.

Mr Ahmadi-Nejad quickly gets on his helicopter to travel to other towns in the vast Fars province. Kazeroun, Nourabad-va-Mamasani and Marvdasht are his next destinations, but journalists cannot accompany him officially because of a shortage of space on the helicopter.

Instead they take a bus to Sepidan, a town with a population of over 100,000. Winding up through a narrow mountainous roads, the journalists arrive before the president. They are met by a crowd of 10,000 people, holding placards, mostly complaining about dangerous roads - not unlike the ones we had just travelled - which claim lives daily.

Ali, 54 years old, is a labourer from a nearby village. “In Roudshir-Zanbour village, with 500 inhabitants, there is not even one proper road,” he says.

There are a dozen young men whose main demand is somewhere to swim. Echoing the nuclear slogan, they chant: “A swimming pool is our inalienable right.”

The helicopter carrying Mr Ahmadi-Nejad, escorted by three others, flies over the crowd, who shout, “Bunch of roses! Welcome to our city!” The president waves almost regally from the window.

In his speech, he promises more and better roads, and a swimming pool for the young boys. He says there will also be a sports centre for “dear religious girls”.

He wraps up the day by meeting thousands of war-disabled and families of martyrs from the 1980-88 war with Iraq. This is the least smooth part of this programme as he faces vociferous complaints.

Mr Ahmadi-Nejad urges them to keep up their spirit of martyrdom, although many of his audience seem unconvinced. In spite of a long day of travelling, he does not look tired.

Day Two: Tuesday April 17

Mr Ahmadi-Nejad starts the second day of his tour with the same energy. Journalists miss trips to Abadeh and Eghlid, but they catch up with him in Khorrambid, where the president faces an angry crowd of 10,000 who have waited five hours in the sun to complain bitterly of “powerful people in Tehran” who tap the mineral wealth of local mines but give the local people no share.

One name comes up again and again - the son of Ayatollah Mohammad Imami-Kashani, Tehran’s Friday prayer leader.

“Brave president! Justice! Justice!” they chant. “Write about these thieves sucking our blood!” a middle-aged woman tells journalists.

“The issue of mines will be raised in cabinet to see that justice is done,” the president promises the crowd.

“Our president! Thanks! Thanks!” they reply.

The day finishes with a visit to Takht-e-Jamshid, the ceremonial capital of the Achaemenid Empire (559-330 BC) known to the Greeks as Persepolis. When Mohammad Khatami, the previous president, came in 2001, there was a wave of criticism that he was associating the Islamic Republic with ancient kings.

But Mr Ahmadi-Nejad simply poses for photographs with startled tourists, including some Iranian women living in the United States whose hijab, or Islamic dress, is flimsy and barely covering their hair.

“Well, that’s not what I expected at all,” says one of the journalists. “I’m astonished he was so open.”

Day Three: Wednesday April 18

The president has flown back to Tehran to appear at an Army Day ceremony, where he vows Iran will “cut off the hands” of any aggressor. Young journalists with less energy than the 51-year-old president welcome the opportunity for a rest.

I take a shared taxi to the tomb of the 7th century poet Hafez. The driver tells me he regrets not giving the president a letter about his loss of 13m tomans (about $13,500) in a fraudulent land deal. “The judges can’t do much, but maybe the president could get my money back,” he says.

Two more passengers join the discussion. “Ahmadi-Nejad doesn’t want anything for himself – he’s honest,” says Heydar, a 48-year-old plumber, who goes on to explain how his relatives have benefited from soft loans for their small cattle breeding business – a central policy of the Ahmadi-Nejad government.

At Hafez’s tomb I take tea almost on my own, as there are hardly any foreign tourists in what is usually the high season.

“They come in the evenings,” one official says, reluctant to concede that the sector has slumped during the past two years as a consequence of growing international tensions over the country’s nuclear programme.

In the evening, journalists head for a meeting between Mr Ahmadi-Nejad and dignitaries from the province. The patience of local reporters is wearing thin at what they feel is discrimination because seats on the presidential helicopter are allocated almost exclusively to representatives of state television.

After returning from Army Day in Tehran, Mr Ahmadi-Nejad visited the towns of Khonj, Mohr and Lamerd and also crossed the provincial border to see the people of Gavbandi, a town he missed on an earlier visit to Hormuzgan province.

But the meeting with dignitaries goes awry because the president is late. After hours of waiting, 1,500 people are told that he cannot arrive before 10:30pm, three hours later than expected. It is re-scheduled for the following day.

Day Four – Thursday April 19,

President Ahmadi-Nejad starts the day at 7am with a visit to Shah-Cheragh, the shrine of the brother of Imam Reza, the 8th-century leader of Shia Muslims.

The president then flies by helicopter to the cities of Lar and Zarrindasht before journalists join him again in the town of Darab, a main east-west transit point and a key route both for drugs and arms trafficking. A local journalist tells me at least one person is killed a week in drugs and weapons related crime, while the police impound at least 800kg of drugs, mainly opium, monthly.

“Smuggled drugs come through from Afghanistan in the east to other parts of Iran and Europe, while increasing amounts of arms have come from Iraq in the west since the fall of Saddam,” he says.

A third of Darab’s 150,000 inhabitants have been waiting for the president from early in the morning. By midday the sun is fierce.

Masoumeh, a 48 year-old woman, wants to give a letter about her daughter personally to the president, and won’t reveal its contents. Sarvenaz, 47, demands the hanging of the man who killed her son four years ago.

Suddenly, the helicopters arrive and the crowd surges forward. “Iran has sent all its enemies to the dustbin of history,” Mr Ahmadi-Nejad says. The crowd takes the cue. “Death to America! Death to Israel!” they chant.

“People are united… and loudly ask for their definite right to nuclear capacities,” Mr Ahmadi-Nejad continues. The crowd chants back, “Nuclear energy is our inalienable right.”

Turning to local issues, Mr Ahmadi-Nejad makes promises similar to those made elsewhere on this trip. Over 500bn rials ($53.4m)will be allocated for soft loans, there will be a tourism zone and a highway to Shiraz, the provincial capital. Fines levied on farmers will be waived and the irrigation system improved. There will be a sports centre for “dear religious girls” and a second one for “brave and honourable boys”.

His speech is interrupted by a disabled war veteran complaining he doesn’t have a house. But another wheelchair-bound veteran demands to see the president to urge him “not to give up the nuclear programme under any conditions”.

Mr Ahmadi-Nejad moves on by helicopter to the cities of Neyriz and Estahban, accompanied as usual only by state TV. Other journalists take the bus to Fasa, a town of 130,000 people, which has a similar drugs problem to Darab and a waiting crowd of 40,000 people.

Mahmoud, a 37-year-old bank worker, has come to tell the president that the government’s soft loans for young people have proved helpful. He works for Saderat, a state-owned bank, that has seen its international profile rise in recent months as a result of US sanctions imposed on its dollar transactions. In contrast Robabeh, the mother of a martyr from the 1980-88 Iraq war, is in tears and wants to “kiss the hand and foot of the president” because he is “brave and cares about the poor”.

After making a series of commitments to the people of Fasa over bank loans, roads and sports facilities, the president leaves by helicopter. After a two-hour drive back to Shiraz, we find him in a meeting with officials, large farmers and industrialists as well as students.

The select audience turns out to be far more critical than the mass audiences of earlier. Ebrahim Keramatfar, a student who says he was active in the 2005 presidential election supporting Mr Ahmadi-Nejad, criticises his choice of advisors and for ignoring the universities. Another student tells the president that the roads he was due to take in Shiraz were asphalted just before his visit.

The president says he will not retreat from his values and insists he is even more committed than two years ago when he was elected president.

Despite it being 11pm there is no sign of exhaustion on his face.

As I chat with presidential aides in my continuing hope of securing a place at some stage on his helicopter, they tell me how amazed they are at his energy. “He sleeps four or five hours a night,” says one. “When he’s in Tehran, his small lunch comes from his home and for dinner he eats only bread and cheese.”

The staff say Mr Ahmadi-Nejad is inspired by his religious beliefs and they certainly respect his humility. They tell me he has moved to a very modest house, near to the downtown presidential office, and that he still runs the old Peugeot 504 he drove before becoming president. They add that the president’s punishing schedule has not led him to give up his previous job at Elm-o-Sanat university. “He still teaches 30 to 40 students every Saturday from 7am to 11am,” one aide tells me.

Day 5 – Friday April 20

The last day of president Ahmadi-Nejad’s tour begins with a private meeting with students in Shiraz, before he flies to Jahrom, Ghir-o-Karzin, Farrashband and Firouzabad. Apart from state television and a few photographers,journalists are left behind because of what are often described as “logistical difficulties”.

After four days on the road hardly anyone from the travelling media raises an objection – tired, they prefer to hear his speeches live on local radio.

My dwindling hopes of a ride on the helicopter are dashed after five days of effort. The official reason is “lack of space” but throughout the trip I’ve picked up nervousness among national and local officials about the presence of a foreign newspaper on this trip.

On Monday - the first day of the tour - the conservative Mehr news agency had criticised the government for allowing me to travel on this trip, after a British newspaper was accused last year of making up an “interview” with the president.

Blanket coverage of Mr Ahmadi-Nejad on state TV has been in contrast to the rather limited reports of similar trips by Mohammad Khatami, his predecessor. That helps explain why the people, who get most of their information from state TV, are so enthusiastic.

The journalists join the president when he returns to Shiraz to meet chiefs of the Qashqai tribal confederation - one of Iran’s largest - and to see an exhibition of the nomadic life style in tents.

Fars province is home to 186,000 Qashqais, 40 percent of whom still migrate from summer to winter pastures as far as 1,200km. For many decades, central government has encouraged them to settle in new towns – but carpet weaving, cattle breeding and handicrafts remain their main sources of income.

At the exhibition Eshrat, a 26-year-old woman, weaves a carpet with wool and silk she has dyed herself without chemicals. The design is purely in her head. “Every day only I weave three rows,” she says. “My two other carpets went to exhibitions in Germany, Japan and the US.”

But she complains her payment is low and is impatiently waiting for the president to offer her some justice. “I worked on one carpet for a whole year and was paid 2m rials ($214), but the trader is selling it for 300m rials ($32,000),” she says.

The president arrives and is asked to wear the Qashqai crème robe, called Chogheh, made of sheep wool. He does so willingly, but refuses the Namadi (felt) hat. “You cannot put a hat on the president’s head!” he says jokingly, referring to the Iranian proverbial way of saying someone is being cheated.

Mr Ahmadi-Nejad stops by Eshrat’s tent and she tells him about her work. As he moves on Eshrat cannot hide her excitement. She is now “100 percent” sure her problem will be resolved.

Meeting tribal chiefs, he promises cheap banking loans for their youth to use in cattle breeding and improving handicrafts. He tells them of an earlier visit on the tour to the tents of the Qashqai. “As we sat, they started making kebab,” he says. “I ate one stick of kebab and thought it was lunch, but then came the big lunch and I just told them: you have eight cylinders, but I have only two.”

The president then heads for the office of the provincial governor, where the whole cabinet has arrived.The ministers begin their session at 5:50pm, breaking first for prayer and later for dinner. Journalists are called to a press conference at 9pm but wait until 1am Saturday morning for it to begin after the cabinet finishes a seven-hour meeting.

“You don’t have a life!” the president, looking full of energy, tells the assembled journalists as he walks into the press conference. He reports the cabinet’s decisions, but refuses to take questions.

Everyone rushes to the airport. Having missed out on the helicopter perhaps I can get on the president’s plane. But I am sent to the second plane, and given a seat with the security guards at the back, almost as far from the ministers at the front as it is possible to get.

I’m tired, but still I can’t help but ponder the recent analyses in political and intellectual circles in Tehran, most of which has argued that Mr Ahmadi-Nejad is finished politically. After the five-day tour, this seems like wishful thinking. His rivals have a tough challenge ahead.

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