Like many residents of Tehran, 36-year-old Mehdi, an IT specialist, evacuated the city early in the conflict, seeking refuge with family in the northern regions.
Upon his return, he was greeted by scenes of destruction, with bombed structures and debris littering the streets. The blasts had damaged his home, shattering glass and dislodging window frames in the bedroom. Just days before a ceasefire was reached, a series of explosions forced him to seek shelter in a panic.
“There’s a whistling sound I hope you never hear… a missile so close that you can’t tell if it will strike your home or your neighbor’s,” he recounts, describing how three missiles struck the street in rapid succession.
Now, as Mehdi returns home along with thousands of other Iranians during the temporary truce, he navigates a city filled with devastated buildings, disrupted infrastructure, and an ailing economy, all while facing uncertainty as the ceasefire deadline approaches.
“There’s a lot of talk about precision strikes,” he notes. “Let me tell you, my favorite fast food restaurant has been hit by a missile. The clinic we relied on during Covid or flu season has been destroyed. Even the garden where I spent many happy moments as a child has been affected.”
Mehdi and his wife now sleep in their living room, the least damaged area of their home, while he sorts through paperwork for insurance as they await the next developments. “Our home is hardly livable now. In a way, we’ve become refugees in our own country,” he states.
The damage to civilian infrastructure in Iran has been extensive, according to Noor, an activist who remained in Tehran during the US-Israeli assault. She reports that explosions have obliterated “schools, universities, pharmaceutical manufacturing plants, hospitals, civilian residences, personal vehicles, and public transport.”
Although the streets are bustling once more, many individuals, particularly those who depend on the internet, have seen their livelihoods vanish. The Iranian authorities have maintained an internet blackout for over 45 days, isolating much of the population. Some have resorted to spending considerable sums to regain access through Starlink and VPNs.
Prior to the conflict, Iran was already grappling with an affordability crisis, but now, Noor points out that access to medications for those with serious or chronic health issues has dwindled, and while food is available, “we can’t afford it.”
The economic strain, which was dire before the bombings, has now become overwhelming. “Almost all food items have surged in cost. Many can no longer afford red meat or fish, and dairy prices have skyrocketed by more than 40%,” she adds. Other residents in Tehran echo similar sentiments about the challenges of affording basic grocery items.
In addition to the escalating economic crisis, factories are facing operational difficulties due to a shortage of raw materials, leading to job losses among construction workers, while many businesses are downsizing or laying off employees. Banks, international companies, and government offices are all feeling the pressure as unstable internet connectivity hampers essential functions.
Many educational institutions remain closed, creating difficulties for working mothers in the private sector who are unable to find childcare as kindergartens and schools are not operational.
Arash, a 21-year-old student from Tehran, left the city to stay with relatives after ten days of conflict. The lack of information due to the internet blackout left him and his family anxious and fearful. He has since returned to the city.
Even with the pause in hostilities, he states, “I am hyper alert all the time.” The atmosphere in the capital feels tense, with a heavy security presence, including police and members of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) conducting roadblocks and vehicle checks.
Some checkpoints have reportedly employed children, a practice that constitutes the use of child soldiers, which is a violation of international law. In a campaign earlier this year to enlist civilians dubbed “Homeland Defending Combatants for Iran,” an IRGC official indicated that the minimum recruitment age had been set at 12.
Describing the sensation of living under a repressive regime and the looming threat of renewed conflict, Arash likens it to the tale of a frog being boiled slowly. “That’s how we feel right now. We’re slowly dying without realizing it.”
As the two-week deadline for the ceasefire approaches, those who spoke to the Guardian expressed significant apprehension. “Even if we think about rebuilding, we can’t: the ceasefire is tenuous, and war could resume at any moment,” Arash explains. “Hope is all we have left, but that is fragile as well. I recall what Donald Trump remarked—how he would bomb us back to the stone ages. I find it humorous now, yet I worry deeply that he might genuinely see us that way. Does he truly view Iranians in that light?”
In spite of the economic difficulties and a “fragile ceasefire” that feels like a “ticking time bomb,” Noor asserts that the people of Tehran continue to endure.
