The United States is often accused of shoving its policies down the throats of other nations. This has engendered negative reactions which have reached dangerous levels. In the Islamic world, the need for public diplomacy has never been greater. I came to Iran to investigate just how this could be accomplished and to sample as much Persian cuisine as possible.

After a day of both sightseeing and interviews, our group headed to a traditional restaurant that had once been part of a mosque. The architecture was grand, featuring elaborate tilework covering the vaulted arches that rose above the dining areas on both levels.

Midway through the meal, we heard shouts break out from the lower level. A woman screamed, dishes crashed and the sound of slapping ricocheted up from below. The noise intensified. Diners rushed to the balcony to see what was happening. Timidly, still unsure of how an American should behave here, I peered over the edge.

Below, a man lay motionless on the floor as a woman repeatedly slapped his face. A crowd had gathered around him as she next jammed a spoon into his mouth, furiously digging and shrieking in panic. The man was unresponsive.

I pushed my way through the crowd downstairs but, not speaking Farsi, could not make it understood that I wanted to help. I panicked when someone in my group yelled Doctor! to help clear my path. What if I couldn’t help him? Given the emotion of the crowd, I did not want to be blamed for his demise.

The man was unconscious and not breathing. I lifted him up with great difficulty and some other men, misunderstanding my intention, picked up his feet. “No,” I yelled, “he needs to stand. Help me pick him up!” They spoke no English and could not understand, so I clumsily wrestled to get his dead weight up into a standing position by myself. His mouth was now bloody and he slumped lifelessly in my arms.

Pressing my fists under his sternum, I squeezed hard and heard a loud wheeze as air rushed out of him. As I set him back down, I looked up to see several of his family members staring at me from the dining platform. The woman looked at me with wide-eyed fear and a little boy on the verge of tears buried himself in the cushioned banquet.

My hands were shaking as I put them over the man’s bloody mouth to feel if he was breathing. His eyes fluttered and the hot breath on my fingers told me that he was getting air. A short time later, he would walk out of the restaurant under his own steam.

There are increasing calls for a shift in US strategy vis-a-vis Iran, and I’m doing my bit to help win some hearts and minds, but must the whole country choke first?

Best regards,

George

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