An Iranian women’s year in the shadow of US sanctions and Covid-19

The double blow has especially hurt ordinary Iranians, such as Mahnaz Parhizkari, a 35-year-old Iranian woman living in Tehran.

Since her divorce five years ago, Mrs. Parhizkari has struggled to support two sons aged 8 and 13 on her own.

After divorcing her husband, she worked as a cleaner, a job that paid for the rent of a small apartment in a high-rise in a working-class neighborhood in Tehran.

It also allowed Ms Parhizkari to put aside enough money to buy a used car in installments and get a job as a driver for Snapp, an Iranian ride-hailing service.

Then, in 2018, the US withdrew from a 2015 deal to stem Iran’s nuclear activity and imposed crippling sanctions on Tehran, punishing what the Trump administration said, Iran’s aggression in the Middle East was. The measures have drastically reduced the country’s exports and cut Iranian banks from the international financial system.

“Sanctions have robbed us of little joys.”

“I always took my children to the park on weekends. But now I have to work. “

“By the end of the month I will have no savings.”

“Children have school fees and we are very concerned. I can no longer buy very good quality bags for my sons. “

“I have to cut back and buy something that will last at least a year.”

The sanctions have dealt a severe blow to an already struggling economy, exacerbating unemployment and driving the Iranian rial into a tailspin. The currency lost 80% of its value against the dollar, driving up inflation and hurting working-class Iranians the hardest.

“One of the fun things the kids liked was going to the supermarket. They could buy toys and other things. But now I can no longer take them. I’m very embarrassed that I can’t please them. “

Keeping her job as a driver became increasingly expensive during the year, as her car needed more frequent repairs and inflation pushed up the price of spare parts.

“The car is old, a Pride from 2009. It breaks down more often now. “

More trouble came late last year when the Iranian government tried to keep its finances up by cutting back on fuel subsidies, which pushed gasoline prices up overnight. The price increase sparked nationwide protests, which were forcibly crushed by security forces. Hundreds of protesters were killed in skirmishes that were the state’s deadliest act in decades.

Ms. Parhizkari did not participate in the protests, but the price increase slashed her earnings by tripling the price of a full tank of gas. “But fares didn’t triple,” she said.

“I have to start thinking about another job.”

“People started taking the metro and buses more often.”

Higher gasoline prices rippled through the Iranian economy, causing the price of a range of goods to skyrocket.

“I calculate everything like on an abacus,” she says. “I write down all expenses to make it to the end of the month.”

“I can no longer afford to buy the fruit I used to buy for my children.”

Although she got an additional full-time job as a cleaner at a petrochemical company, she had to find a cheaper apartment that was tight even for her small family.

“I cook dishes with soy products and luckily my children don’t hate them.”

When Covid-19 hit, Iran was one of the hardest hit countries in the region, with more than 3,000 cases per day in the spring, according to data from Johns Hopkins University. The government encouraged people to stay at home, and Mrs. Parhizkari’s sons’ schools were closed. As a result, her income plummeted. She started looking for a new job, but to no avail.

“I’m really scared of this virus, and I have two kids at home,” she says. “I can’t endanger their lives.”

When the schools were closed, Mrs. Parhizkari stayed at home to care for her children and supervise their school work. As a result, she was only able to drive for a few hours, leaving her barely able to cover her expenses.

In the summer, Mrs. Parhizkari forced her two children to move to neighboring Ghazvin province so that they could live with her ex-husband, who she says was addicted to drugs and largely absent from their married life. The father lives with his parents and he has started giving Mrs. Parhizkari small sums of money to help with the expenses of the children.

“It’s a long drive to Ghazvin, and sometimes I’m so tired that I don’t go to see the kids on weekends,” she said. ‘But I don’t want my kids to go hungry. I couldn’t afford to keep them. “

In October, Ms. Parhizkari contracted Covid-19, possibly from her colleagues, some of whom had also become ill. She recovered quickly, but was left shocked.

“When I found out I was infected, I felt dizzy,” she says. ‘I got very scared. The first thing that came to mind was my sons. What will happen to them if I die of the virus? I’ve even complained to God. ‘Why me?’ With all the troubles I’ve been through this year, it’s not fair. I didn’t deserve to get sick. “

Recently, Mrs. Parhizkari’s income has increased again. She occasionally takes on a Snapp job to supplement her salary from her cleaning job at the petrochemical company.

Now she has pinned her hopes of getting an apartment in a government-subsidized housing project on the outskirts of Tehran.

“It can take a year or more to get it,” she says. “Then I can bring the children back to me.”

Write to Sune Engel Rasmussen at [email protected]

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