Monthly Archives: January 2023

©GeraldineBanks2021

This story is a fictional account of a businessman , Rahim Ali Khorram, who was sadly executed by firing squad as a result of the Iranian Revolution and the summary trials that occurred after the new regime took over in 1979. I know little about the politics or about how a businessman such as Rahim Ali Khorram under the Shah operated. Corruption exists in all walks of life. I have read that he was illiterate but still managed to get roads and airports built in Iran. As we know currently the Iranian Courts are still active and their accusations such as sorcery and the punishments meted out are to most right minded people crueI and inhumane.

The story has been written because, Rahim Ali Khorram also built ,owned and operated one of the Biggest Theme Parks ever built in Iran. Eram Amusement Park as it is now called is a fun park, enjoyed by the people of Tehran. It is also known locally as Khorram Park after it’s founder. It incorporates Iran’s Zoological Gardens.

During his trial Rahim Ali Khorram was accused of killing a man by putting him into a lion’s cage to be eaten and of burying bodies in the zoo grounds. He was accused of corrupting officials and supplying prostitutes. I have read that his business interests included casinos and bordellos .The charge that he kept around two hundred Phillipino prostitutes for his personal use sounds far fetched. For me, whatever the truth, he was the man who built a Themed Fun Park in Iran for people to enjoy. He had big plans for it and it is sad to think what state it is in today. Although browsing the internet it does seem to be something for Iranians and visitors to enjoy.

I imagine him walking around in dismay at the opportunities that are missed, but also pleased that the people still have somewhere they can go that they can forget their troubles. So in fond memory of his achievement I offer you with respect to the man who envisaged and built the well known Theme Park in Tehran, my imaginary ghost story as the ghost of Rahim Ali Khorram walks around his Theme Park and has an imaginary conversation with us.

I wish to acknowledge the following The Theme Park Guy, who travels the World experiencing all the rolller coasters on Earth, visited Tehran in 2014 and the New York Times who wrote an article about the son of Rahim Ali Khorram who still lives and works in Tehran.

The Iranian Fun Park

©GeraldineBanks2021

I was dead before they shot me. That was typical of those hair brained Mullahs . My Heart had given way as unsurprisingly they frightened the life out of me. I could not believe that they would go to such extremes, I was a father and a grandfather. I had brought up my sons to be good men, they were educated abroad. Life was not easy for me. I never had an education, but I was good with people and I worked hard. The Shah was the Shah, and if he wanted something to happen well we all worked towards making it happen. That is life, all these accusations , all this retribution that is not life. I would have done the same for the Mullahs, I would have helped make Iran Great. I could have been a contender. Yes I very much liked American Movies and News like most Iranians. I’m sad that relationships are so strained. I put Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck at the entrance and exit to my theme park. Why? Because people love them. It’s a gentler form of brainwashing, soft and cuddly works better than hard and brutal. I’m surprised the Mullah’s haven’t cottoned on to that.

Sadly it is too late for me, as I say my Heart gave out, but strangely when it happened I felt a very heavy weight lift from me and I had a desire to walk away from the unpleasantness of the situation. Unknown to the people surrounding me , I stood up and walked across the courtyard and out into the street. Somehow I knew no one could see me , it wasn’t that I could walk through solid objects or anything. I used doors and waited for cars to pass by .I could see and hear everything , I was not there, although I felt I was there .It was very odd. Put that in your pipes and smoke that you religious fanatics. I was alive but not alive. I felt no pain, my heart no longer raced. I did not need a heart and I could smell again, the streets, the flowers , it was as if senses I’d forgotten and not used or noticed for a long time had came rushing back. I suddenly thought, I could I take a photograph of myself as I am now. I thought of the photo booths we had installed in the Luna Park 2. So that’s where I headed.

Except when you are dead there is no time. That is an odd feeling. It felt like I was walking normally , just as I did when I was alive. Except I was in a time machine. For a moment I would see things as they were, then I would see them in the past and then weirdly the future. I couldn’t control it. I just accepted it. It mattered and didn’t matter at the same time.

When I arrived at the Park, there were a small crowd of people outside, they were waiting for friends and family before joining the small queue. I was looking for the photo booths and walked into the entrance. I didn’t recognise the ticket collector at the front. He would be one of the Mullah’s people now, a card carrying religious nutter. Do as I say not as I do. The people would have to be careful, they were watched all the time. There was only that one man to collect the entrance fee at the front and it was very early so I walked through the entrance. He did not see me and neither did anyone else. It was a nice feeling. I reached my hand into his booth to see if I could upset the tickets he had piled up waiting to be sold. It was as if the wind had blown them and he had to scramble about to retrieve them. I kept walking and did not look back. Mickey Mouse was still there to greet the visitors, well in truth the closest artwork we could get done to Mickey. Nowhere as good as The Original Walt Disney , which my family and I had visited in the United States in the 1960’s. It was an adequate copy, cheerful enough. I was not paying a fortune out for the original. What do you think I am made of money? Anyway, we got away with our own version of Mickey Mouse, if it had been too American , perhaps he would not still be there. Yet there he was welcoming people in to Tehran’s best Themed Fun Park.

I made my way to the photo booths, I was dying to see what I looked like. You see even ghosts have a sense of humour. Surely ghosts appear in photographs? I kept on walking, all of the food kiosks were shut and the tables were neatly stacked. My park looked like a Ghost Town. Well it could be a lot worse, at least it’s still here. As I suspected nothing has moved on since the 70’s. I found the booths and realised I had no money to put in them. I would have to wait and see if there were any paying customers.

I was pleased to see they still had the flying chairs and my favourite the flying ship. Imagine a ship that fly’s through the air. My children and wife loved that. It looked though as if it could do with a coat of paint and some of the panels had rust on them. This is not a good look, it would not have been allowed in my day. That is what happens when you let incompetents ( in most cases relatives) run your businesses. It never works. Nothing gets done.

Sad to say it was the same with the Children’s Carousel’s and the Bumper Car’s they all look very tired, I’m pleased to say that this did not apply to the people. The crowds began to enter the Park, not Officials or the Wealthy of Iran, but the People , the teenagers with nothing else to do , the girls with their head dresses and make up who wanted to sit at tables , drink sodas and eat doughnuts and gossip about their lives in the warm sunshine. The families from the Provinces having a weekend away, it was their holiday with what cash they could afford and what do we offer them “rust”?

I was excited to see the roller coaster with the tight loop. One of the tightest in the World I believe and I now realise actually quite dangerous. It still looked the same and believe it or not , it was still operated by one of my guys, Zana. He started working for me when he was just fourteen and now he was in his fifties. A very good engineer, could fix anything. It was a miracle that old roller coaster had not killed anyone, it went very fast around the loop. I was too frightened to go on it myself or let my children go on it. The crowds loved it.

Zana was busy grinding down some metal parts with his tools and I could see flakes of yellow paint on his hands. I desperately wanted to speak to him, but I knew I couldn’t. He looked older than his fifty years, and perhaps the years had not been kind to him, but who else could maintain this old crock of equipment. Suddenly a young man came running up to him gesticulating.

“The ice- making machine has broken in the café , boss says can you come and have a look”. said the young man to Zana.

Zana stopped what he was doing and looked up at the young man who was dressed neatly in tight jeans and a brightly coloured shirt.

“OK, I’ll be there in a minute”. Zana put his tools down and sighed. He placed a sign on the entrance to the Bright Yellow Roller Coaster.

“OUT OF ORDER”

I watched as shoulders hunched he walked slowly towards where the young man had disappeared, he looked as if he had the weight of the World on his shoulders. I knew then he had accepted his lot and I wouldn’t blame him. I tried arguing with these religious fanatics and look where it got me. Zana loved his machines and his family in equal measure and he had made what he could of his life. He was a good man.

I headed back to the photo booths excitedly as I knew now that there were people in the Park and that I should be able to see what I looked like. Two young girls were getting their picture taken, they were fiddling with the buttons and moving the stool up and down to get the best picture, at the same time as fixing their hair and make- up. One of the girls began to put the money in the slot for their photograph, they were laughing and giggling and getting ready to pose. I reached my head in just behind theirs just as they put their coins in the slot, there was a countdown of five, and the flash went off and the picture was taken. They came out of the booth and waited for their photographs to appear.

When it popped out , one of the girls reached in to take the photograph, she smiled as she held it up to the light and her friend looked over her shoulder and they both seemed very happy with their beautiful smiles and how each of their hair coverings had fallen off. There was a shadow in the background, but you really couldn’t see me and they didn’t notice anything. So that is me now, a shadow of my former self. Anyway I was pleased the girls were happy and as I am a real ghost I think I would like to visit the ghost train. I always liked the ghost train.

So I set off in the direction past more booths where people could win small gifts, it was rather old fashioned and nothing like the modern video games I envisaged. I wouldn’t put it pass those Mullahs to charge children for playing hopscotch. Five rials to throw some hoops at a board and a cheap pink elephant shaped piece of cloth as a prize. If they were lucky. I watched as the two girls from the photo booth ran towards one of the booths and cheerfully handed over their money for a chance to try their luck. What else could they do? Shameful if you ask me.

When I reached the Ghost Train , there was a queue and I decided to join it and wait my turn as part of the crowd. It was nice to listen to the conversations, among the women it was mainly about prices and the lack of jobs for their men, and the children’s schools. The men stood silently, they knew how difficult everything was and they had been in the main dragged here by their wives in order to have a day out with the “family”. It was important, and it is important. The people need something to look forward to , more than ever now. The children need to be with their fathers and make happy memories. I was hoping that the Ghost Train would make those happy memories.

I took a seat beside a Young Man and his Wife and a young girl who was about three in one of the Ghost Train car’s . The girl sat on her mother’s knee and the young man and his wife smiled at each other.

The wife whispered to her husband. ” I hope she will not be too frightened.”

I sat opposite them in the car so I was facing them but going backwards. I didn’t mind, I wanted to see the little girls reaction. The train started to move forward and the mother held her child tightly and the little girls dark eyes looked around in wonder. The first thing we went through was the imitation cob webs , and the little girl giggled as I ducked and swiped them out of the way.

” Look Mummy, the man “.

Her Mum looked in front of her, yes indeed Frankenstein was in front of them, and appeared through the cobwebs. The tailors dummy glowed in the dark as it was fluorescent and dressed in an old brown suit with a bolt through his neck and that big forehead. I had loved Herman Monster when I was a kid. The child laughed with delight as I looked around and stuck my tongue out at old Frankenstein. Then I put my thumbs in my ears and waggled my fingers and stuck my tongue out again as we passed Frankenstein by.

The little girl giggled again and she copied my actions. She could see me. I thought this was wonderful and I lost the feeling of being disconnected from the World that I used to know. Thankfully my emotions did not return, it was just another sense of being. I began to realise that through my connection with the little girl I knew much more about the family , I knew why and how they were there. The wife was a Court Recorder, a job she hated, as she witnessed all the terrible things that the current regime did, but it kept her, her husband and their child safe. The husband got labouring work when he could , and they got by. Today was a real treat for their little daughter. She loved the fair and it gave her parents great pleasure to see her happy. Happiness was in short supply. The weight on the wife’s shoulders of filling in judgements and dealing with relatives of families affected by the trials and summary sentences was great. It took it’s toll on the naturally sweet natured woman. Her husband witnessed her troubled sleep pattern, how she woke up at night in their small flat screaming from the nightmare she had just had. He wished he could get more regular work and that his wife could stay at home with their child instead of him. He loved his little girl, but it was natural , he should be the provider not the carer.

The Ghost Ride continued and in truth, I was ashamed how poor it was, the ghostly creaking noises were in fact just poor maintenance .The wheels on the car were in need of a good oiling. Imagine, no oil for the wheels in our Great Country Iran. We could see daylight coming through the roof. If it had rained it would have been a disaster but instead the sun peaked through which looked rather funny with the Skeletons and Dracula appearing. Of course, I was supposed to have buried loads of people in my theme park and even had a man eaten by one of the lions in the Zoo. The Skeletons were all plastic , they were not real and why would I want to bury anyone in a Park that I was building for people to enjoy themselves in. What kind of man did they think I was? The charges were so ridiculous , they were laughable. Yes , I know where bodies were buried, the Shah was no saint, but what replaced him well that isn’t blameless either.

Anyway little Starla, as that was the name of the little girl , smiled and giggled her way through the Ghost Train. I entertained her with my silly faces. Her mother and father were pleased that the little girl enjoyed the ride and as the little car trundled out of the darkness and came to a stop. I hopped out and waved at Starla and she waved back.

“What are you waving at Starla” her mother asked quietly.

“The Man” Starla said.

The wife looked at her husband and smiled. ” She is a funny little girl, isn’t she ?”. They both laughed.

I decided then to head for the Zoo, it was a real bonus to have the Zoo in the middle of the Theme Park. As I walked towards what was now The Tehran Zoological Garden, I breathed in the air , the Scent of the White Jasmine was delightful. I approached the lake , it was covered with lotus blossoms, which seemed to glisten like a magic carpet in the sun, their pointed petals facing upwards towards the sky. Moving on I came to what I thought was a sea of tulips, of many colours and then Rose Bushes, which included our famous Damask Rose with it’s aroma of the orient and occasionally among the Roses I saw the Red of the Poppies, which I always used to associate with sadness, but now I saw just how beautiful it was, bright red with a black centre. There were so many flowers and they were very well tended. Flowers are strong symbols of all sorts of things , even the Revolution. The Mullahs loved their tulips and poppies. I myself ,loved the Gulnar or Pomegranate Flower and of course the beautiful Narcissi , which always reminded me of my wife’s beautiful eyes.

I came to the Zoo entrance, there was another ticket booth. I walked through unnoticed. I went into the Reptile House . I looked through the glass and immediately came face to face with the Short Snouted Crocodile which is also known as the Mugger Crocodile. A Native to Iran , and a very troublesome visitor when we were building roads in the Provinces. We did loose a few workers, it was very unfortunate, we were in their habitat and they came out of the lairs at night. The stories I heard of the unfortunates who were attacked by those creatures would make your hair stand up on end. Yet, believe it or not the locals who called them Gandos used to feed them at as they venerated the creatures. I had never actually seen one close up and they were frightening . I just wanted to get out of there and see the Lions and the Tigers . I love Lions and Tigers. Any big cat really. I like small cats too. Or should I say I did like small cats .

And there they were the lions! They were asleep. The Persian Lions! They looked so regal. They looked well looked after and their enclosure though small seemed clean and well kept with areas that they could have some privacy. Which is understandable as they one day will produce cubs perhaps if all goes well. Now that would be exciting for the people. Perhaps the tragic stories of our Zoo Lions and our Zoo Tigers reflect our lives. These poor creatures did not want to be locked up. I walked a bit further and I was upset to see our White Siberian Tiger, she is called Queen. She looked well , but she is a captive , she will never have cubs or be released into the wild , she just is something to look at. I began to feel very unhappy in the Zoo.

I decided I had had enough, when suddenly I saw three lions and two tigers walking down the pathway down from the gardens. They looked as if they had been swimming in the the lake. I shouted, but of course no one could hear or see me. I thought of all those people in the park , the children and then I realised that no one but me could see them, they were like me. They were ghosts. Those are the animals that were shot because they had caught an infectious disease. A number of years ago they had closed the zoo overnight and destroyed the animals. The rumour was they had been fed infected donkey meat. Who knows? They were beautiful to see and they walked up to me and sniffed me then kept on walking in the direction of the amusement arcade. Imagine they could roam where they want. Perhaps there is some justice in this World.

I looked around and I saw all the different captive animals in the Zoo, the Brown Bears , the Hyenas, the Chimpanzees, Baboons , Penguins, Peacocks even Kangaroos. I know nothing about Zoos, but I do know about business and again this is a popular attraction for the people, but it will never make money. Who maintains the Zoo you ask? Who pays for the welfare of all these animals and the people who work to look after them. I’ll tell you, the Zoo is officially owned by the Eram-e-Sabz corporation which in turn belongs to the Mostazafan Foundation which is one of the richest organisations in Iran and under direct authority of the Revolutionists. So they must pay. What happens in the Zoo is their responsibility, perhaps they love the animals. I don’t know. Anyway you tell me what is different to them from the Shah? I don’t see it.

And now my dilemma , what do ghosts do when they are tired and want a rest? Well I know now, they sleep and they can sleep anywhere they like. I have found my superpower, I’m going to sleep in the Lions Cage, I’m going to cuddle up to a Lioness and go asleep. She is lazing on top of a platform I’m sure she won’t mind sharing it with me. Thank you for your Company, be safe and be good. Goodnight.