I first met Manuchehr Vahidi in 1984 at a social gathering held at my granduncle's residence. His intellectual depth, humility, and keen eye for detail, coupled with his warm and inviting nature, left a lasting impression. Over the subsequent years, I had the privilege of encountering him on numerous occasions at my uncle's home, his flat in Vanak, and his seaside retreat on the Caspian Sea.
His wife was incredibly warm and welcoming. Although I was always accompanied by my uncle's family, they treated me as an individual with respect and kindness.
Years later, I had graduated from college and established my own company. While conducting a business transaction at a bank in Escan Buildings, just above Vanak Square, I decided to have a late lunch at a nearby restaurant. As soon as my favorite dish, beef stroganoff, arrived, he sat down across from me. He regarded me thoughtfully and remarked, 'You've grown a lot.' We chatted a little, and then he picked up his food and told me to enjoy my food. That was the last time our paths crossed.
He was someone I idolized. Interestingly, his birthplace was the same city where my maternal grandparents resided. He was a graduate of Tehran University, the very institution where I was just embarking on my academic journey. Most importantly, he was a force for positive change, dedicated to improving the lives of countless individuals, especially in Tehran.
Before the Islamic Revolution, he was the secretary of housing and urban development. However, his true passion and expertise lay in the field of water supply and distribution.
The Karaj Dam (1), completed in 1961, is a marvel of engineering, featuring a 180-meter concrete structure. It still provides clean, fresh water to the city of Tehran and generates electricity for the region.
This engineering marvel would not have been realized without his profound knowledge of water supply, structural engineering, and his exceptional skills in project and people management. When Tehran's residents turn on their taps and drink fresh water, they should acknowledge the efforts of those who made this possible. A man of vision, coupled with a government committed to progress, harnessed the expertise of the best minds to improve the country.
In stark contrast, contemporary Iran is governed by individuals who lack the requisite expertise. Over the past 45 years, there has been a paucity of meaningful progress. The few projects that have been undertaken are often continuations of pre-revolutionary initiatives, executed with diminished quality and extended timelines.
Regrettably, the newly elected president of the US, appears to be pursuing a similar course, electing the most inept people, leading to the decline of this nation. I guess what goes around comes around. Iranians should always thank Americans for the demise of their country.
Manuchehr Vahidi's untimely passing in 2023 was a significant loss. I regret not having had the opportunity to see him again. In retrospect, it was a missed opportunity. While researching for this blog, I discovered a surprising coincidence: we share the same birthday, February 4th. He was 32 years my senior. (2)
The Karaj Dam carried a unique significance in my life. It was my sanctuary, a place to escape the stresses of life. When I was employed, I made it a point to visit every weekend. After venturing into entrepreneurship, I continued to visit every Tuesday and weekend.
The dam served as my sanctuary. I spent as much time there as possible, except during the winter ski season. The day before a ski trip, I even ventured into the near-freezing water for a water-skiing session. Windsurfing, water-skiing, and swimming across the dam were my methods of mental rejuvenation. The rhythmic nature of water sports, whether the intensity of slalom skiing or the sheer stress of practicing jumping from a dock, was incredibly calming. My passion was so intense that even when I broke my left tows, despite the challenge of fitting my left foot into the rear boot, I could not stop waterskiing.
Our lifestyle had another advantage. Our family and friends knew we were often out of town on weekends and holidays. This allowed my wife and I to avoid tedious and stressful social events, especially those where I was a target.
Our frequent absences also provided a layer of protection. It reduced the likelihood of us being targeted by the militia, the hijab police, or other potential threats. Although the ski club had fallen under government control and some new figures were exerting their influence, it remained a comparatively safer environment for us.
Occasionally, we'd be reminded of the restrictions, like ensuring my pants were below my knees, my arms were covered, and my wife's hair was hidden. But generally, we felt safe. At night, the place was ours. We swam in our swimwear, played card games, and enjoyed food and drink without worry.
My most cherished moments were Friday mornings, the second day of the weekend in Iran. Mousa would rouse me from sleep to begin the day. The lake was a tranquil mirror, undisturbed by other boats or wind. The boat could reach its full speed for 14 kilometers in each direction. By the time I returned, my wife and others would be awake, ready for breakfast and the day's activities. I long for those peaceful mornings.
As the wind intensified, we'd take to the water for some windsurfing. Just before noon, in a large group of 15 to 20 people, we would swim across the dam, navigating close to the net separating the danger zone. Someone in a paddleboard or kayak would escort us, carrying a large watermelon. On the other side, we'd savor the watermelon and swim back.
As others enjoyed lunch, it was our turn to take to the water for water-skiing. We'd divide into groups of three to take turns skiing. The afternoon was reserved for windsurfing. Around 6 PM, Mousa would intentionally put me in an awkward position by making me slalom ski in front of everyone. Catching the buoy was initially challenging, especially as the boat had to slow down, and I was teetering on the brink of falling. Fortunately, I left Iran a few years later, avoiding any potential mishaps.
We were committed to environmental preservation, making sure that nothing contaminated the water. We cleaned and washed in designated areas away from the water's edge. While I cherished the overall experience, I must confess that I found the task of cleaning dirty dishes to be less appealing.
All good things must come to an end. A year after we left Iran, the government decided to restrict access to the water sports area. The government has already created propaganda films to portray the country as free, eliminating the need for actual freedom. They fenced off the area and evicted everyone. It seems the government's goal is to make people miserable by any means.
The fascist governments appear determined to stifle joy and contentment. Welcome to 2025 USA.
(c) I personally took these photos and videos and own the rights to them. Please feel free to use them as you wish.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amir_Kabir_Dam
https://peykmagazine.com/en/2023/05/08/community-news-may-june/
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