Iran protests: ‘They hunted us in the streets’ – inside the Rasht massacre

On Thursday, January 8th, Iran effectively disappeared from the world’s digital map. Amidst escalating nationwide protests, the government severed internet access, phone lines, and most external communication. That evening marked the beginning of a violent crackdown, with reports emerging of security forces opening fire on crowds, resulting in what some estimates suggest could be tens of thousands of deaths over two days. The subsequent internet blackout has hampered efforts to establish a definitive picture of events, but witness accounts, videos, photographs, and reports from hospitals are beginning to reveal the scale of the bloodshed.

The protests had been unfolding in over 200 cities across the country, according to human rights groups. This represents the story of what transpired in one of them: Rasht, a city in central Iran.

Thursday, January 8th – 5pm

As the Iranian authorities shut down the internet, Ali, 36, and his friends were already marching towards Shariati Street, which runs alongside the grand bazaar in Rasht. By the time they reached the road, thousands of people were already present, chanting slogans calling for freedom.

The protests had been building since Tuesday, with demonstrators from smaller surrounding cities converging on Rasht. The city’s grand bazaar – a historic marketplace comprised of interconnected streets – became a natural focal point for the protests. “I would estimate there were more than 20,000 people surrounding the alleys and the boulevards near the bazaar,” Ali said.

People of all ages were participating, Ali explained. “My friend brought along his wife and his two daughters, one nine and the other 12. We were all so happy and felt united to be together for freedom.” Even with the internet cut off, he initially felt no sense of danger. “It didn’t matter if there was no internet or no calls. We were all in this together and didn’t feel any danger.”

Approximately a kilometre north-west of Shariati Street, Siamak, 40, had been hesitant to join the demonstrations, noting a growing sense of tension as crowds swelled. However, he understood the underlying motivations.

“People were pushed to their limits. We couldn’t afford the basics,” Siamak said. He recounted a recent trip to the bazaar where 2kg of tangerines cost him 580,000 tomans – roughly £3.40, more than a day’s wage for those earning minimum wage. “Everything just felt unaffordable. People just stood there, unable to buy food. That triggered the anger,” he explained.

As he drove through the city, Siamak observed elderly people, children, and entire families joining the march. Groups of teenagers jumped out of cars to join the crowds. “I lowered the window of my car and told them, ‘May god protect you, I hope you are safe.’” But as the day progressed, he felt reassured by the sheer number of people involved. “By Thursday afternoon, the conversations changed,” he said. “People felt ashamed for staying home. Parents spoke about their children and still said, ‘Why shouldn’t we go?’ It was no longer about money. It was about dignity.” He ultimately joined the throng.

8pm

As night fell over the bazaar and surrounding streets, people showed no signs of leaving. Navigating the crowds was slow. From Moallem Boulevard, about a 15-minute walk from the bazaar, Siamak slowly made his way through side streets to Rasht’s Municipality Square, adjacent to the market. He climbed onto a rooftop for a better view. “The crowd was massive,” he said. Every street was packed.

On Shariati Street, Ali and his friends continued chanting slogans as they neared the alleys around the bazaar. The atmosphere, he said, was initially jubilant. “The feeling of victory turned to fear,” he said. “I can’t explain the seconds before the catastrophe. I can’t explain how that felt. Our hearts were racing. We were being surrounded by security forces and plainclothes officers with masks.” He observed a set of white Toyota Hilux vehicles equipped with machine guns moving into the crowds. Even at this point, he said, he and his friends did not anticipate the violence that was to come.

From just outside the market, Siamak heard the sounds of gunfire.

“I heard explosions and nonstop gunfire coming from the direction of the bazaar. People started running out toward the surrounding streets. Some were screaming. Some were bleeding. From them, we learned what was happening inside,” he said.

Soon, he smelled smoke and saw a red glow in the sky. A fire had broken out in the bazaar.

8:30pm

Ali believes the fire started around 8:30pm. The exact origin and cause remain unclear, but “the fire spread rapidly,” he said. “People inside were in a dilemma, whether to run towards us or to save those in the fire. As soon as the smoke started to spread, and we were trying to make space, we saw huge crowds fleeing the fire and running towards the street.” Then, the security forces began to shoot.

“The security forces began shooting at the fleeing crowds,” he said. “I saw people being shot directly in the head, with AK47, G3 and also Dushka guns. It was as if you could see how hell burns. I still can’t explain to you what I saw.” He saw a group of guards targeting those fleeing.

“I will never recover from what I witnessed. Never again, do I want to see this in my life.”

As crowds poured out of the market and into surrounding streets, Siamak asked those fleeing what was happening. “They said the municipal market and bazaar had been set on fire. Firefighters were not allowed to enter. The bazaar’s narrow alleys trapped people. When the fire spread, people were forced to choose: stay inside and burn, or come out.”

“When they came out, they were shot.”

Iran’s state media claims the bazaar and a mosque were “burned down by foreign-backed rioters”. Ali described witnessing a massacre.

9pm – Midnight

For Siamak, the aftermath was as devastating as the initial chaos. “I saw people collapsing on the streets leading away from the bazaar,” he said. “Shooting came from multiple directions. There were loud explosions, what people called sound bombs. White Toyota Hilux vehicles filled with masked forces were positioned under bridges and at exits.”

Word spread that those who survived the initial gunfire inside the bazaar were being “finished off” by armed men if they escaped. “They didn’t let the wounded live,” he said, visibly distressed.

A doctor, who wished to remain anonymous, compiling reports from emergency departments in Rasht, reported receiving “hundreds of burn victims from the Rasht bazaar area, including bodies recovered with partial charring and patients with extensive third- and fourth-degree burns who died in subsequent days”. They also reported “hundreds of patients presenting with combined gunshot and burn injuries, consistent with individuals being shot while fleeing the burning area”.

Dawn

When Ali returned to the area around 5am, the bodies had been removed from the streets. He said that approximately 500 shops had been burned, and patches of flame were still visible. “It looked like the city was burning to ashes. It was like a bad dream.” Some bodies had been carried from the ruins and lay on the streets, burned beyond recognition.

“I don’t think there’s any way [families could identify their loved ones], other than a DNA test,” he said.

Mahmood Amiry-Moghaddam, director of Iran Human Rights, stated that the events in Rasht “leaves no doubt about the authorities’ intentions. The city was turned into a killing field. people were hunted in alleys, shot in the streets, burned out of hiding places, and executed when wounded. This was a clear example of a crime against humanity under international law.”

For Siamak, who has since left the country, the memory of the events – and the plight of the families – remains deeply painful. “Families were forced to pay large sums to retrieve bodies,” he said. “Those who couldn’t pay lost them.” Some families hid bodies in cars overnight. Others buried loved ones secretly – sometimes in gardens, sometimes in unmarked graves.

“After the massacre, the city felt destroyed,” he said. “No internet. No communication. Everywhere I went, I heard that someone else had died. It felt like prison – total isolation.”

*Names have been changed to protect identities