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A Persian-Filipino returns to his Fatherland, Iran
Second of two parts (Part one here.) In 2009, came "the moment" for my generation. I decided to leave the comfortable shores of Manila Bay to visit my Fatherland, Iran. 
May 30th, 2009 – The weather was still cool and we were approaching the end of the spring season. Flowers fully blossomed and their scent filled the streets of Tehran. President Obama’s election was still the talk of the town as people cautiously celebrated the end of the Bush era. We were all sick and tired of the “war on terrorism" and wholeheartedly welcomed Obama’s more sober tone. Just a few months before, President Obama – in an unprecedented manner – greeted the Iranian nation during the Nowrouz Eve (Iran’s new year). I was away from Iran for half a decade and was somehow recovering from the trauma caused by Bush’s years of constant threat of invasion of Iran. I wished for nothing but the security of my fatherland and its citizens; I lamented, with all my heart, the ‘siege mentality’ that Bush’s rhetoric of war created for millions of ordinary Iranians. A few days before my return to Manila, my Iranian friends and I drove across the northern districts of Tehran (uptown); the June elections were swiftly approaching and it was Persians’ turn to elect their next president. The whole world was waiting for us to respond to Obama’s call for reconciliation, cooperation and, perhaps, eventual rapprochement. In every intersection, we saw young women and men handing out leaflets, campaign slogans and also ‘silky’ green materials (headbands, armbands and wristbands). “Never did I see Iran as ‘politically energized’ and excited over a presidential election," said an older friend of mine who used to shun politics as a ‘hopeless game for attaining power.’ A few hours before, I was in Tehran University (hotbed of student activism) and met some professors from the university. Outside the University, on Enghelab (revolution) St., the story was even more intense; hundreds of people wearing the colors designated for their candidates (i.e. Green for Mousavi) walked around and distributed election materials. Some of them started screaming slogans and agitating the opposite side. Scenes of fights between partisans became common as Election Day approached. After the elections, the scene became immensely violent and confrontations led to the deaths and injuries of many individuals. You could not avoid observing the heat of the moment; the political environment was extremely energized with signs of growing polarization. There were four candidates standing for elections and their supporters were spread across the vast city of Tehran (biggest city in the Middle East), as well as the world (courting absentee votes). As I sniffed the scent of the spring flowers in the cool breeze of Tehran’s north, I looked forward to an exciting election that could send waves across the world (as the Iranian revolution did in 1979). “Change" was in the air. Filled with overflowing optimism and sense of pride, I headed back to Manila. I had no qualms about being an absentee voter, since I could watch every second of Election Day on the net and satellite; the world’s biggest media outlets poured into Iran while Twitter, Facebook and other Internet sites provided the most recent updates on the Iranian elections. I had no problems maintaining connections with the events back in my fatherland. Returning to Iran: The state re-consolidating its base as millions came out to show support for the regime Feb 11, 2010 – After visiting Egypt for about 2 weeks on anther mission, I headed towards Iran to visit family and also catch up on the events back in my fatherland. Determined to know the truth for myself, I stopped relying on western media for info and analyses on the post-election protests and the whole political impasse that raised questions in our troubled hearts and worried minds. When I arrived, the country was in a state of calm and business moved ahead as usual (although the macroeconomic situation was shaky). The ‘Ashura day‘ protests occurred while I was in Egypt (late December) and when I visited Iran, the situation did not seem as unstable as foreign media indicated; yet, the political atmosphere was as tense as I anticipated. I was still reflecting on the state of affairs of the country and thought about the changes that transpired after I left the country, just before the elections, in early June 2009. It was the 31st anniversary of the revolution; millions came out in support of the regime. There were minimal anti-government protests, but those that chose to come out and join the protests had to face the overpowering force of the state. Feb 11, 09 (Tehran, Azadi Square): Millions came out to celebrate the anniversary of the Iranian Revolution 
It was “judgment day," as many wanted to put it. The world wanted to see if Iran was still a unified nation in the face of growing international pressure over Iran’s nuclear program and internal pressure over the post-election events. Early morning, together with friends, we drove around the city again and witnessed an impeccable security apparatus. At every intersection, and strategic point, now as compared to before (June), we saw security, intelligence and Revolutionary Guard forces. The whole city was under tight control; the government was determined to ensure that the day was solely about the anniversary of the revolution and no opposition protesters; anarchists, hooligans and foreign-backed terrorists would compromise the sanctity of such a huge and central event. Despite receiving stern warnings from friends and family to stay at home – for they feared I would be mistaken for an opposition supporter or foreigner, due to my looks and appearance – I decided to go out and visit the Enghelab (Revolution) street. Airing on the side of caution, I went out at a later time, but could see waves of people returning from the rally as they headed home. It was an ocean of humanity; my senses were overwhelmed. At the same time, I constantly looked around to ensure that I did not invite unnecessary suspicion. The heavy security atmosphere intimidated me, but I pushed along and walked through the street and waves of people and security forces. It was a strange, yet exhilarating experience. I was constantly worried that they would think I was a foreigner or an agent of the “foreign powers." I had a camera with me and that began to worry me. You would rarely see so many people and security forces along a single street. As I moved forward, thoughts and emotions began to intensify inside me. My heartbeat increased, but my mind was determined to move forward; I wanted to fully enjoy the privileged vantage point of witnessing such a spectacle. 
Part 1: Son of Asia: The odyssey of a Persian-Filipino Modern globalization has given birth to a new breed of humanity that shares the souls, blood, and cultures of different races. I am a product of such an intermingling. Like many others, my parents found soul mates from distant lands: my fatherland is Persia (Iran) while my motherland is the Philippines.
May 30th, 2009 – The weather was still cool and we were approaching the end of the spring season. Flowers fully blossomed and their scent filled the streets of Tehran. President Obama’s election was still the talk of the town as people cautiously celebrated the end of the Bush era. We were all sick and tired of the “war on terrorism" and wholeheartedly welcomed Obama’s more sober tone. Just a few months before, President Obama – in an unprecedented manner – greeted the Iranian nation during the Nowrouz Eve (Iran’s new year). I was away from Iran for half a decade and was somehow recovering from the trauma caused by Bush’s years of constant threat of invasion of Iran. I wished for nothing but the security of my fatherland and its citizens; I lamented, with all my heart, the ‘siege mentality’ that Bush’s rhetoric of war created for millions of ordinary Iranians. A few days before my return to Manila, my Iranian friends and I drove across the northern districts of Tehran (uptown); the June elections were swiftly approaching and it was Persians’ turn to elect their next president. The whole world was waiting for us to respond to Obama’s call for reconciliation, cooperation and, perhaps, eventual rapprochement. In every intersection, we saw young women and men handing out leaflets, campaign slogans and also ‘silky’ green materials (headbands, armbands and wristbands). “Never did I see Iran as ‘politically energized’ and excited over a presidential election," said an older friend of mine who used to shun politics as a ‘hopeless game for attaining power.’ A few hours before, I was in Tehran University (hotbed of student activism) and met some professors from the university. Outside the University, on Enghelab (revolution) St., the story was even more intense; hundreds of people wearing the colors designated for their candidates (i.e. Green for Mousavi) walked around and distributed election materials. Some of them started screaming slogans and agitating the opposite side. Scenes of fights between partisans became common as Election Day approached. After the elections, the scene became immensely violent and confrontations led to the deaths and injuries of many individuals. You could not avoid observing the heat of the moment; the political environment was extremely energized with signs of growing polarization. There were four candidates standing for elections and their supporters were spread across the vast city of Tehran (biggest city in the Middle East), as well as the world (courting absentee votes). As I sniffed the scent of the spring flowers in the cool breeze of Tehran’s north, I looked forward to an exciting election that could send waves across the world (as the Iranian revolution did in 1979). “Change" was in the air. Filled with overflowing optimism and sense of pride, I headed back to Manila. I had no qualms about being an absentee voter, since I could watch every second of Election Day on the net and satellite; the world’s biggest media outlets poured into Iran while Twitter, Facebook and other Internet sites provided the most recent updates on the Iranian elections. I had no problems maintaining connections with the events back in my fatherland. Returning to Iran: The state re-consolidating its base as millions came out to show support for the regime Feb 11, 2010 – After visiting Egypt for about 2 weeks on anther mission, I headed towards Iran to visit family and also catch up on the events back in my fatherland. Determined to know the truth for myself, I stopped relying on western media for info and analyses on the post-election protests and the whole political impasse that raised questions in our troubled hearts and worried minds. When I arrived, the country was in a state of calm and business moved ahead as usual (although the macroeconomic situation was shaky). The ‘Ashura day‘ protests occurred while I was in Egypt (late December) and when I visited Iran, the situation did not seem as unstable as foreign media indicated; yet, the political atmosphere was as tense as I anticipated. I was still reflecting on the state of affairs of the country and thought about the changes that transpired after I left the country, just before the elections, in early June 2009. It was the 31st anniversary of the revolution; millions came out in support of the regime. There were minimal anti-government protests, but those that chose to come out and join the protests had to face the overpowering force of the state. Feb 11, 09 (Tehran, Azadi Square): Millions came out to celebrate the anniversary of the Iranian Revolution It was “judgment day," as many wanted to put it. The world wanted to see if Iran was still a unified nation in the face of growing international pressure over Iran’s nuclear program and internal pressure over the post-election events. Early morning, together with friends, we drove around the city again and witnessed an impeccable security apparatus. At every intersection, and strategic point, now as compared to before (June), we saw security, intelligence and Revolutionary Guard forces. The whole city was under tight control; the government was determined to ensure that the day was solely about the anniversary of the revolution and no opposition protesters; anarchists, hooligans and foreign-backed terrorists would compromise the sanctity of such a huge and central event. Despite receiving stern warnings from friends and family to stay at home – for they feared I would be mistaken for an opposition supporter or foreigner, due to my looks and appearance – I decided to go out and visit the Enghelab (Revolution) street. Airing on the side of caution, I went out at a later time, but could see waves of people returning from the rally as they headed home. It was an ocean of humanity; my senses were overwhelmed. At the same time, I constantly looked around to ensure that I did not invite unnecessary suspicion. The heavy security atmosphere intimidated me, but I pushed along and walked through the street and waves of people and security forces. It was a strange, yet exhilarating experience. I was constantly worried that they would think I was a foreigner or an agent of the “foreign powers." I had a camera with me and that began to worry me. You would rarely see so many people and security forces along a single street. As I moved forward, thoughts and emotions began to intensify inside me. My heartbeat increased, but my mind was determined to move forward; I wanted to fully enjoy the privileged vantage point of witnessing such a spectacle. 
