No Questions

The violence bagan Saturday afternoon, as the first protestors trickled into central Tehran, gathering around the Interior Ministry, where votes were being counted. They soon clashed with riot police, and spread out into Vali Asr, a broad, leafy street where many Mousavi supporters had been dancing and chanting slogans just days before. As the riot police and plainclothesmen chased protestors down the street, shop owners opened up their doors to give the fleeing Mousavi supporters refuge. It was a strange sight: people were seemingly going about their business on the busy street as riot police beat protestors.

At the same time, one of Mousavi's campaign headquarters, only a couple of blocks away from the Interior Ministry, was under siege. Basijis on motorcycles drove by every half an hour or so swinging batons at people standing in front of the building. Occasionally, a handful of Basijis would force their way into the lobby and pepper-spray anyone within reach. Many campaign workers fled to the fourth floor of the building; in one room, a handful of injured Mousavi supporters huddled, lighting cigarettes to dissipate the burning fumes. There was a TV cameraman with red, watering eyes, a bewildered actress who had come to show her solidarity and Ali Reza, a 32-year-old campaign worker with a torn-up knee, who had been kicked down by a Basiji on a motorcycle. Two medics were in the room patching up Ali Reza's knee. When they finished, they offered to sneak anyone out of the melee in their ambulance. "Is this democracy?" one of the campaign workers asked snidely.

The situation became even more chaotic later in the afternoon: dozens of protestors stopped three buses on Motahari Avenue, asked the passengers and driver to get out, and then torched the vehicles. The smoke could be seen for miles. Further north, near Mohseni Square, two buildings were burned. Bank windows were broken around the city as the protests continued late into the night. Around 2 in the morning, dozens of families and young men and women were still clustered around a handful of intersections in the middle-class neighborhood of Saadatabad. They held up Mousavi posters and chanted "Death to dictator" in the light of burning trash bins. Many had their cameras or cameraphones out, recording the scene. "Every Iranian has become a photographer or a cameraman," says Issa Saharkhiz, a political analyst.

Although Mousavi hasn't been seen in public, he issued a statement Sunday asking for a peaceful rally to challenge the election results tomorrow. Ahmadinejad, for his part, has moved on. At Sunday's press conference, he emphasized that he had left the path open for anyone who was ready to build the country to join him. And anyone who wanted to break the law to get their point across would be dealt with. "Everyone is equal in the eyes of the law," he said. Switching to a familiar mode, he challenged President Obama to a debate at the U.N. but said Iran's nuclear program was not up for discussion. "The nuclear issue belongs to the past," he said. "We call for a global consensus on nuclear disarmament."

Later Sunday afternoon, Ahmadinejad appeared in central Tehran's Vali Asr Square, where thousands of his supporters had gathered for an official celebration. Some of those in the crowd had been bused in, and were given snacks of juice and cupcakes in plastic containers on the periphery of the rally. Shortly after the celebration ended, Zahra, a 22-year-old from south Tehran, zipped away on the back of a motorcycle with her husband. "Ahmadinejad defends justice," she said, as the wind whipped her black chador. "There was a clean election and the others have to accept it."

© 2009