Persepolis

I went to see Persepolis the other day. It was touching, humanising and helped explains some of the shifting factions in Iran - it might be good for folk in the West to see it. A lot of stuff about being an outsider and misunderstood, too, which in some ways I could relate to.

It also made me think how coddled we are in the West. Marjane Satrapi is about my age, I guess, maybe a little older. She's lived through war, bombings, political repression, a regime change that took away much of her rights (being a woman). And being connected and fairly well off by Iranian standards, she had it a lot better than most Iranian women. Indeed, part of the film deals with this as she gets to flee to Vienna and then France. In the West, though, we get people to fight wars for us - mostly our poor and minorities - are so apathetic about politics most of us don't vote and let our rights slowly seep away (see most post 9/11 homeland 'anti-terrorist' measures, recent moves to mess with abortion laws, etc.). We are all like Satrapi's Viennese 'anarchist' friends in the movie, spouting off platitudes, but not really engaging.

I also went to Persepolis. It is shop, this little slice of foodie paradise in Peckham. Yes, in Peckham. Forgive me but every time I walk through Peckham I sort of hum Elvis' In The Ghetto. But Persepolis is a blast of sunshine (it's painted sunburst yellow) amid the run down corner shops, dodgy mobile phone stores, less than salubrious pubs and off licenses. It's an emporium specialising Iranian and Middle Eastern cuisine that sells everything from fresh baked pastries to hookahs. It just smells right - like how I imagine a Middle Eastern bazaar does. It's well worth a trip to Peckham for a visit. Might want to wear Kevlar, though. The owners have also written a very good book which is worth checking out.