Then comes one of the main attractions: two water-spraying machines. They're huge, the size of a bus but taller, with fenced windows and two water-guns on top of each. We burst into laughter. They don't know how to use it. They shoot second floor windows, riot police and the people, if they do at all, and these including girls in tight manteaus. It's more Zurich than Tehran. One machine is stuck. They don't know how to drive it. It's a hot day, and it feels good to become wet. Much of the time, the sprays are not very powerful. It's as if they're watering the grass.
And it just does not fit the horror that's in the air, the aggression with which the people are hit with batons. A beautiful day. It has been beautiful throughout the past week; you wonder whether nature is ironical.
They push the crowd back and forth, but soon realise people are on all sides. In a couple of minutes, the crowd goes away, the anti-riot police leave, and the students are gone. We don't know why. Deprived of communication, you never see the big picture. Maybe they have attacked the university from behind.
At Towhid Square the scene changes. The streets to Azadi are blocked. But this time, people don't change their path. They fight for it. There's a shower of stones. Tear gas. Fire. The battle extends to nearby streets. People are shouting, "Down with the dictator". Riot police throw back stones. I also grab a broken brick and throw. I'm amazed. Never thought I'd do it. But I need practice: it was a very bad shot. I grab another one, the size of a pomegranate and hide it behind my back. I am part university teacher, part hooligan.
We get a lift to avoid the teargas. Then there is the attack. A woman is beaten. She's hysterical but so is the anti-riot police officer facing her. She shrieks, "Where can I go? You tell me go down the street and you beat me. Then you come up from the other side and beat me again. Where can I go?" In sheer frustration, the officer hits his helmet hard several times with his baton.
A couple of minutes later we get off. Here's a true battleground. This time it is vast. Columns of smoke touch the sky. You can hardly see the asphalt. It's covered with bricks and stones. Here people have the upper hand. The street consists of three lanes, the middle one separated by opaque fences, under construction for the metro. The workers have climbed up the fence and show the V sign. They start throwing stones and timber to the street to supply needed armament.
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