In 1996 I stayed with my friend's family in Tehran.
Each morning I would be woken to the sounds of a large group of men yelling,
as if playing a sporting game.

When I asked my friend what was happening, I was told they were Kurds.
Each sunrise would bring them to the street
hoping to get an offer for a day's work.
This of course is illegal,
so shortly after they arrived each morning
the police would come along and the men would scatter.

Each morning I would wake to this sound.
Some mornings there seemed to be hundreds of them yelling,
a small
dust storm
as they ran over the dried soil.

The Kurds had no home,
they slept wherever there was shelter.

A home being built next to where I stayed
was a covered slab of concrete for many to make their bed.

I would often see them sleeping
or gathered around drinking
tea over a small fire
when we came home at night.

and in the morning I would see them leave
with their bags...

©Lesley Sparks, a photo-educator living in Canada. Submitted March 1998.