Saturday, December 02, 2006

LAST CALL FOR GHITA

CHAPTER 8
I really didn’t want to do it, and I even told Thomas, - okay, I says to her, - eleven pm in your house, and, - bye bye! and I turn of the phone and I go straight to his room, he lies in his bed, a white sheet over his head, - Thomas, I says and he removes the sheet and he looks at me, - hvad saa? he says. - I’m NOT gonna do it! - Af sted med dig, Nielsen! he says and recovers his face. And so I just had to do it. Anyway it might be my last chance to try it, not just in this country, in this world, I mean, in my life. Tonight we are going to end our mission, to stage that “decisive event”, that “event which will lead to a new revolution, signal the advent of a New Era, the arrival of the New”. And not just anywhere, but right in the middle of Revolution Square, the centre of Tehran and Iranian history. Me and Thomas, no Iranians, this time we are going to carry the action out all by ourselves. “The Iranians, and not only the Iranians, but every people need leaders!” said Mohammad in Yazd. Okay, we says, then we are going to be those leaders. No Iranians in this revolution, just me and Thomas, the two Europeans. You can’t trust them anyway, these Iranians, they just want a good life, a good wife and a career on national television. As soon as something is about to happen, exactly in the right (wrong!) moment, they turn of the camera. And without pictures there’ll be no revolution. This morning we still had our Iranian camera man, we had gotten up very early and gone to the mountains to make some filming, in the mountains, yeah, that’s where they prefer to take us, to the mountains or to Persepolis, far away from Today, far away from any potential revolutionary event. We had hired a donkey to carry the box the first couple of miles until the point where we would definitely take over, and while we were walking, hands in our pockets and the sun rising over the mountain brim, we talked about Ghita and me and this Ashrar Hemmat.- I love you, Boob! Thomas sighed, and we laughed. - Oh no, Meysam said, - they married! He looked at us in innocent horror, - they two childrens! he said, - they very very happy family, to all Iranians, in the cinema, they is picture of happy Iranian family! And so we all laughed. - I love you, Boob! And that was it. When we came back from the mountain we fired him. Or rather: We met in the apartment to plan the decisive Event, but Meysam only wanted to talk about money. The thing is, you can’t pay people to participate in a revolution, The Revolution is not a job, and paid people won’t risk their life for anything anyways, not even a better world, not even The New World Order, paid people just want their money, their lap top (my little baby! says Meysam), their car and a new pair of sunglasses. And so, in the end we told him to go. We are on our own now, in the End it is just me and Thomas and the Revolution. No one else really wants it. And so, tonight on Revolution Square we are going to carry it out by ourselves, that decisive Event. We just need some hands to take hold of the two cameras, hands without money, free hands, hands that don’t shiver, hands that don’t press the Stop-button at the moment when History starts. And we are going to find those hands, in fact we already have: Iranian 1 and Iranian 2, the first looking like the young Coppola, the second one a little more nervous, but trusty. And we ain’t gonna pay them. Oh, no. And while they stand hidden somewhere in the moving crowds with the cameras, me and Thomas are going to go all the way, and then that little “decisive” step further which is the step into the fatal, the point of no return. And that’s okay with me. In the End I’d rather die for The Revolution than getting so close to a woman that I might get lost in her. Don’t touch me, please: shoot! At nine thirty pm she called me and asked if I had any “drink”, - you have drink in your house? she said, - I’m not sure I have enough drink! - I am NOT gonna do it! I said to Thomas. He didn’t even look at me. - Go buy some flowers! he said. But that was to late, all the flower sellers had long since disappeared from the dark streets. At eleven ten pm she called me again and said she was waiting in the car in front of our house, - you have something for rain? she said. - No, I said. I have nothing, nothing but my suit and tie, my grey shoes and, off course, The Mission. Thomas picked up the camera and followed me down to at least get a picture of my disappearance, the last.

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