The Bullet
By: Azita Vatandost
Table of Contents Page 1: Dedication Page 2-6: Process of the Historical Narrative Page 8-10: Historical Narrative Page 11: Afterword Page 12-13: Bibliography Page 14: About the Author
I dedicate this story to my father, Mehdi Vatandost, for sharing this unforgettable event and being my interviewee.
(The person on the right is my father during the time of the revolution.)
Special thanks to my friends who helped me immensely in making this story better by editing. I would also like to thank Ms. Bui and Mr. Johnson for guiding me throughout this project.
Interview
What happened during the protests? “Everyday it started off with small protests, this lead onto more people going against Shah in the city. Which of course resulted in bigger protests.” Did you join any of the protests? Yes, I did. Although I wasn’t that aware or didn’t have that much knowledge about a revolution. I joined protests without thinking. The elderly supported Shah based on their experiences. They always warned us to not join the protests but we didn’t listen.” Is there any specific moments you experienced in the protests? “In one of the protests, my older brother was shot in the leg by one of Shah’s soldiers. And in another protests, I was cornered by an armed police and he started threatening me.” What was happening around you? “When going from city to city, there would be small groups. Some supported Shah, some supported Khomeini. When we used to pass those small supporters by car, to not get hurt my dad would have a picture of Shah and a picture of Khomeini. When we came across Shah supporters we would hold up the Shah picture. If we came across Khomeini supporters, we would hold up the Khomeini picture.” How did you get affected by the revolution? “When I finished high school, universities closed for 5 years because of the Islamic Revolution. I wanted to continue my education. So I had to leave Iran and go to Turkey. After I arrived in Turkey, a war between Iraq and Iran started. Because of this, all borders were closed, so I couldn’t go back to my country for 5 years. This affected my psychology.” Did you think that Iran would end up in a situation like this? “No, whenever there is a revolution, you always think things are going for the good, but that wasn’t the case with Iran, but now things are looking up for Iran.”
The Bullet It was the year 1979, the echoing sound of phone rang through the halls. My father answered it without hesitation. I looked at him as he spoke. “Hello?’’ Father asked solemnly. I watched his face as it quickly turned pale. He put the phone down. “Your older brother got shot during one of the protests against Shah.”
My father panicked. As soon as I could comprehend what he just said, I started panicking as well. Father was already informing my five siblings and my mother about what just happened. Once they had heard the news, they gasped and their eyes widened as if they had just seen a ghost. A lump formed in my throat. I blinked a couple times, trying to understand if this was real or not. The house was full of tension as everybody ran hastily back and forth. My father rushed outside as fast as he could with me trailing behind him. Everything had just turned from normal to dramatic in one second. Two cars were parked outside in our garden, one of them was my father’s and the other, my older brother’s. My father and I opened the gate leading out to the streets. He quickly got in his car and started the roaring engine. I was 17 at the time but I still knew how to drive. We had to take two cars, so got in my older brother’s car and started the engine. I banged the car door shut and waited for my family members to pile in. Then we instantly drove the cars out of the garden and headed towards the hospital. While I was driving I could hear my siblings’ heavy breaths. I looked ahead and tried to concentrate on the road. My grandmother would always warn us, that we shouldn’t participate in the protests. She was right. I gripped the wheel tightly. My heart continued to beat faster and faster. I tried to be hopeful, I tried to think positive.
"BANG!'" We slammed the car doors behind us as we rushed into the hospital. All of us followed my father into the emergency rooms. My brother was lying there, with a bandage wrapped around his leg. He didn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t imagine how much pain he was in. After he got shot in the protest, some of the protesters thankfully brought him to the hospital. I pitied my brother. I didn’t want him to go through this pain. My parents and my siblings would reassure my older brother. After a while, the doctor came in with a blank expression plastered on his face. “Your son’s injury on his leg is severe, I am sorry to say that we can’t perform any type of operation. You need an orthopedist to complete an operation for an injury like this, I suggest you go to another hospital.” My father’s facial expression went from worried to thunderstruck. He didn’t waste anymore time. Time was passing and my brother needed surgery. We placed my brother on a bed in an ambulance. Then all of us took a seat in the back of the ambulance beside to my brother. The car took off and we headed to a bigger city called Tabriz. The blood coming from his leg was making a bigger blotch on the bandage. I would hear my brother groan as he tried to reach his leg. My mother held his hand tightly, trying as hard as she could to calm him. “Is he going to be okay?” I asked my parents as goosebumps spread across my arms. The ambulance driver would stop from time to time to take a break. Each time the driver took a break, my parents’ worry for my brother would increase. Hours later we eventually arrived at the hospital. We rushed my brother inside. The nurses looked over and saw us. They started asking us questions. Such as questions like “What is the issue?” or “How did this happen?” “He got shot! He needs to have surgery!” My father thundered. The nurses nodded and disappeared into the distance where they would be informing the doctor. The doctor came and had to pull my brother away from us and into the surgery room. I could hear my mom’s faint sniffs. Small tears rolled down her cheeks.
We sat down on the hard rock chairs. The anticipation was killing me. I would tap my foot on the ground repeatedly, or lean my head on the back of the wall for awhile. My heartbeat was increasing. It was like there were knots tied around in my stomach. I got tired. My eyes were drained of energy. Even sitting down felt exhausting. During the time being, this gave me chance to think about what was happening around me. There were protests everyday and everywhere. My mind would replay the screaming and the rage in people’s voices during protests. People were being brutally killed. Some supported the Shah and some supported Khomeini. The country had just turned into a big pile of mess. We all were silent, not a single peep. Eventually, the doctor approached us solemnly, taking slow and steady steps. He looked at my father with eyes twinkling in pride. “I am happy to say that your son is doing well.” As soon as I heard this, I felt like all the knots in my stomach were undone and and my heartbeat slowed. A small grin formed on my face. As soon as everybody heard the happy news, everybody had smiles of relief. After a week of staying at the hospital, my brother quickly recovered. My grandmother would always say “Do not get involved in the protests, this isn’t right, don’t go against Shah.” That indeed did teach us a massive lesson. We were mentally and physically affected by the revolution. We all had knew we did a tremendous mistake by going against the king of Iran, ‘Shah’.
Afterword The Islamic Revolution of Iran started in 1978 till 1980. With Shah’s changes that he brought to Iran, it has been said that the country became improved and modern. Shah built hospitals and schools for the less privileged. Women gained the right to vote. Based on the events, Ayatollah Khomeini started sending out promises from exile in Paris to make Iran a more ‘enhanced’ place. This lead into protests that started in the capital of Iran. The protests rapidly spread across the country. After the king of Iran, Shah Reza Pahlavi left for a ‘vacation’ off to Egypt, Ayatollah Khomeini arrived in Tehran on the 1st of February 1979 from exile in Paris, France. Hundreds of people went to see him. The revolution lead into Ayatollah Khomeini to declare Iran as an Islamic Republic and becoming the new ruler of Iran. Hundreds of Shah supporters were executed. Ayatollah Khomeini brought strictly forbidden rules. All women were supposed to wear a hijab. Women weren’t allowed to be in public with makeup on their faces. If they went against these rules, they would be beaten. Journalists would be imprisoned if they wrote articles that criticized the Islamic rules. The punishments for breaking these rules would be severe. Changes in Iran lead into Iranians fleeing off to the U.S or the European countries. 1 year later, Shah Reza Pahlavi passed away in Egypt on 1980 at the age of 60.
Bibliography “The Iranian Revolution of 1979.” WorldHistory, www.gohistorygo.com/iranianrevolution.
The Iranian Revolution.” Http://News.bbc.co.uk/, news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/spl/hi/pop_ups/04/middle_east_the_iranian_revoluti on/html/1.stm.
Afary, Janet. “Iranian Revolution of 197879.” Http://School.eb.co.uk/, school.eb.co.uk/levels/advanced/article/476048.
“Mohammad Reza Pahlavi.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/mohammad_reza_pahlavi.
Wagner, Heather Lehr. The Iranian Revolution. New York, Chelsea House, 2010.
Interview Citations Vatandost, A, and M Vatandost. “Iran Revolution .” 1 Nov. 2016.
Vatandost, A, and M Vatandost. “Iran Revolution.” Oct. 2016.
Image Citations "Pictures of a Revolution: Iran, 35 Years Ago." Wide Asleep in America. N.p., n.d. Web. 16 Nov. 2016. <http://www.wideasleepinamerica.com/2014/02/picturesofrevolution iran35yearsago.html>.
"İran Devrimi Ve Foucault." Iştirakî:. N.p., n.d. Web. 15 Nov. 2016. <http://istiraki.blogspot.com.tr/2016/02/irandevrimivefoucault.html>.
About the Author Azita Vatandost was born on October 25th 2003 in Ardeşen, Turkey. She is 13 years old and lives in Istanbul, Turkey with her parents. She attends an International school called IICS (Istanbul International Community School) and is currently in 7th grade. Her mother, Meral, is from Bulgaria and her father, Mehdi, is from Iran. Her nationalities areTurkish, Bulgarian and Iranian. Her interests are writing, running, reading, drawing, gymanstics and gaming.
" This is a very touching piece that makes you want to be there with the family helping them through tough times." - Lydia Marianne Wulkan This story is really touching and shows the emotions extremely well. - Gabriella Hummel
"This story is full of emotions. Must read." -Jun Park