Young founders in Iran: “My homeland, my future”

A future in Iran: Fewer and fewer young people can imagine that. Some have nevertheless established a livelihood – despite the country’s economic and political crisis.

Arezoo is ready to start in the courtyard of one of the historic mansions in Yazd, 600 km southeast of Tehran. Now it’s a hotel. The 31-year-old is a freelance tour guide for Iran. Today she leads through her hometown of Yazd, whose historic old town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. After the Corona years, business is finally going well again, says Arezoo. She has been a tour guide for five years.

Currency has lost value

Before Corona, Arezoo’s customers came mainly from Europe, for example from France, the Netherlands or Germany. Now it’s mainly South Africans, Russians, Japanese or Australians. Arezoo earns enough to make ends meet in normal times and to pursue her hobby: “I traveled to India, Armenia, Turkey and three months ago to the Expo in Dubai. I went to several pavilions from different countries gone where I find it difficult to travel.”

It is difficult to get a visa for countries like Israel or the USA with an Iranian passport. In addition, these are no longer normal times economically. Traveling abroad is hardly possible for Arezoo either: “Because it’s expensive for Iranians these days. The Iranian currency has lost value.”

She puts on her sunglasses and drives her small car to the first attraction on the outskirts of Yazd. In the blazing sun, you climb 80 steps to the Towers of Silence. There, up until about 70 years ago, the Zoroastrians were buried in the sky. “The bodies of the dead were brought here on the mountain,” says the young woman. “Then the scavengers came and ate the bodies.”

toleration by the regime

Step by step it goes up on the dusty, dry ground in a barren landscape without trees, without greenery. Arezoo is sweating under her bright red scarf, which she has wrapped around her head over her short black hair. She takes it off and ties it into a kind of hat. That’s fine up here, says the 31-year-old. Even her short white and blue striped blouse with the rolled-up sleeves and the tight jeans do not quite conform to the Islamic Republic’s religious dress code.

At the top, a thick wall encloses the circular interior. Vultures and ravens once preyed on the dead bodies. At that time, only a few selected men were allowed into the interior – to clear away what the birds didn’t take away. “I have an uncle who still remembers all that,” says Arezoo. “It’s like living history for me. And whenever I explain something about a ceremony or a custom, it feels like I’m part of that history.”

Arezoo is a Zoroastrian herself. It belongs to a religion that is thousands of years old. It goes back to the Iranian priest Zarathustra. Of the once several million followers, only around 130,000 are said to be left worldwide today, around 25,000 of them in Iran and almost half of them in Yazd. The Islamic regime tolerates the Zarathustrians in the country, explains the young woman. “They have their communities and can hold their ceremonies and festivals there. There are also extra sporting events.”

The historic old town of Yazd with its ancient wind towers has been on the UNESCO World Heritage List since 2017.

Image: ARD Studio Istanbul

Sacred places and ancient “high technology”

The next destination of the city tour is another Zoroastrian sanctuary: the fire temple of Yazd. Inside, tourists can view a flame behind a large pane of glass that is said to have been burning for 1,500 years. In their religion, the four elements fire, earth, water and air are sacred.

The young tour guide has saved something special for the tour: one of the city’s famous wind towers in a historic hotel. You could call them the forerunners of air conditioning. The tower is open at the bottom, including a small pool of water, which is empty. Arezoo stands inside and feels a cool breeze: “You can see a qanat here under this wind tower, i.e. an underground channel. The water in it has cooled the wind that came in through the tower here.”

Arezoo was on the road for six hours that day. “I love that,” she confesses. “Because I meet different people from different countries and different cultures. And what I always find interesting: Some emotions are very similar in all people around the world.” What that is, she keeps to herself.

Western Modernism in Shiraz

change of location. Farshad has two modern coffee shops in Shiraz, a city with over a million inhabitants around 900 kilometers south of Tehran, and they are entirely based on the western model – with wild, American guitar music. Melika at the checkout wears a wide checked shirt and the obligatory headscarf. But the student keeps slipping down. At some point she will leave it there.

Nobody complains, nobody looks at them askance, especially not their boss Farshad. He relies on a modern atmosphere in his café. The 37-year-old is wearing a black shirt and trousers. He has gelled his black-grey, straight hair back. He’s a doer. As he greets three men with a handshake and hug, his gaze wanders across the terrace to see if everything is okay.

“People here adapt”

Iran has been largely isolated politically and economically for years. Officially, there are no Western companies, so there are no Starbucks branches either. One less important competitor for Farshad. “Of course that’s good for us on the one hand, because we get more attention,” he admits. But he also points out: “When strong brands complement the system in a country, this leads to all branches of this industry growing.” The US sanctions in connection with the nuclear agreement make international trade more difficult. Farshad needs to buy coffee roasted in Iran. But it’s good, he says.

A craftsman approaches him. He is supposed to fix the air conditioning in the café and explains to Farshad that he cannot get spare parts for this model because of the US sanctions. Then he should build the spare part himself, says Farshad. It seems like he has a solution for everything. “Iran is one of those countries where you can easily do business,” says Farshad. “Of course it’s true that there are sanctions and price fluctuations. But the people here are adapting.”

Controls are becoming stricter again

It’s lunchtime and there’s a lot going on. The 37-year-old goes from table to table outside on the terrace and makes short small talk everywhere. A young woman wears a crop top under her open blouse. Others smoke cigarettes, have stylish mobile phones and headscarves around their necks. A year ago, when the ultra-conservative Ebrahim Raisi was elected president, many feared that freedom would be restricted again, that there would be more controls and penalties in modern coffee shops.

Farshad runs his hand through his gelled hair and says: “Nobody asks you why everything is the way it is here. And nobody says, for example: ‘This is not okay’. We respect and follow all the rules and regulations.” But it’s not quite that simple after all. A few weeks later, Farshad’s coffee shop’s Instagram account suddenly showed photos of female employees and guests wearing headscarves that were properly fitted. The Iranian government has massively tightened controls in recent weeks.