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Putting a Face on Iran

I played basketball with my Iranian next-door neighbors lots of summer nights when I was growing up. The smallest one – Hafez – stood about 4’6”. He embarrassed us all over the court with moves that made the basketball–which was about as big around as his chest–spin, slice, and float into the hoop. I remember hearing Hafez speak Farsi to his parents and the beautiful, large picture of Tehran above their sink. I learned from my parents later on that Hafez’s parents had been Maoist revolutionaries. They protested against the Shah and his Western supporters, but after the revolution they found themselves in the crosshairs of a newly installed Islamic government, which had started to crack down on the non-religious leftist groups.

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