For Tehran-based Fatemeh, the highlight of her day in a city beset by deadly daily attacks between the United States and Israel during the month-long war is making the short trip to her local cafe.
“When I get to a coffee table, even for a few minutes, I can almost believe that the world hasn’t ended,” said the 27-year-old dental assistant.
“It feels like walking out of this damn war and into a normal day, or at least imagining a world that isn’t filled with the constant fear of losing your life, or where you stay alive but lose a loved one or everything you have,” he said. AFP.
If a break in the bombing allows her to sleep better at night, Fatemeh said she will put on makeup and dress up to make her visit to the cafe extra special.
“And then I come home, to the reality of living through war, with all its darkness and its weight,” he said.
Tehran residents who spoke with AFP’yes The team covering the war in Paris painted a picture of a city still clinging to a certain routine, with cafes and restaurants open, no shortages at supermarkets or gas stations, and people trying to maintain some vestige of social life.
But they know that life is anything but normal, as the United States and Israel have maintained a relentless pace of bombing of the capital since the war began on February 28 with the martyrdom of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and other top officials.
There are security checkpoints on what were peaceful streets, the internet has been blocked or drastically slowed for everything except household services, and windows are taped shut to prevent them from breaking in the event of an attack.
In addition to the fear of dying or losing a loved one in an attack, people are gripped by anxiety about the future, about the type of country they will live in and how they will make ends meet in the midst of a collapsing economy.
People who agreed to share messages with AFP They only gave their first names for fear of the consequences if they were identified by authorities.
‘The only thing left’
“Nowadays, I stay at home most of the time and only go out if absolutely necessary. The only thing left from my pre-war life routine that helps keep my spirits up is cooking,” said Shahrzad, 39.
But she added: “Sometimes I find myself crying in the middle of it. I miss normal days… A life where I didn’t have to constantly think about explosions, death or losing loved ones.
“I try to stay strong for my daughter… But when I think about the future, I can’t form a clear picture in my mind that I can hold on to with hope.”
For the past week, people in Tehran have been trying to make the most of the main traditional Persian holiday of Nowruz, a festival that typically sees people go out of town or celebrate at home with family.
“There is no famine, everything is available. The cafes are open and we still go out to them,” said Shayan, a 40-year-old photographer. “There is gasoline, water and electricity.”
“But there is a feeling of helplessness in all of us. We don’t know what to do and there is really nothing we can do.
“There was no real Nowruz atmosphere, but we tried to try hard,” he said.
Although shops and restaurants are open until 9 p.m., “many people don’t go out after the afternoon,” he added.
“I miss a peaceful night’s sleep”
Elnaz, 32, a Tehran-based painter, said that when the attacks subsided and she had time to think, she remembered how much she missed “living a simple life.”
“We miss the simpler things, going out at night or just being able to go to another part of the city.
“I miss something as common as shopping somewhere other than the small grocery store or bakery on my street.
“I miss reading in a cafe, going to the park… all those very, very simple things.”
He added: “And more than anything, I miss a peaceful night’s sleep.”
Elnaz said that some nights the attacks are so intense that it feels as if “all of Tehran is shaking.”
“Everything comes back to one state: survival. Just thinking about staying alive with all the people I love. My friends, my family and the people of my city, who seem kinder than ever in this difficult time,” he said.
Kaveh, a 38-year-old visual artist, said a piece of missile fell about 50 meters from his house a few days ago.
“I brought it home. I want to do something with it when I get the chance,” he said, remembering that dust was falling from the sky and several windows were immediately broken.
He described how, at night, in some areas, groups of people who support the administrative system drive around honking and gathering, “while a few streets away there are checkpoints where the cars and phones of ordinary people are searched.”
“If you have anything to do in the city, you will probably go through several checkpoints in a single day, each run by different groups. Cars are searched, phones are searched, and months of pent-up frustration is vented on people at these checkpoints.
“These are just parts of our daily reality under these circumstances,” he said.
The gloomy atmosphere, residents say, has been compounded by unusually rainy weather that contrasts with the spring sunshine people are used to enjoying on Nowruz.
Portraits of children killed in attacks are displayed in squares, while giant flags of the Islamic Republic cover buildings that have been reduced to ruins.
“In the end, for many people, the most important concern is the future of Iran and its people, and what could really improve the situation,” Kaveh said.
