The gunfire began around nightfall in Golestan, the commercial heart of Ahvaz, the provincial capital of oil-rich Khuzestan province.
For hours, residents reported the crackle of automatic weapons near the headquarters of Ahvaz’s Intelligence Department, where government media say detained protesters are first taken.
By then, Iran’s internet had been dark for three days. No one could upload videos. No one could call for help. And still, across Khuzestan province, thousands continued to pour into the streets.
“No one dared to film, but we were a flood,” said Sina, a 20-year-old resident of Ahvaz’s Zeytoon Karmandi neighborhood.
“It was apocalyptic,” he added. “They had deployed so many security forces that if we had stopped to think about what was happening, fear would have overcome us.
“But people my age from all the surrounding neighborhoods had come. Officers were firing tear gas and shooting, but the crowd kept getting bigger and bigger.”
What began on December 28 as scattered protests over currency collapse in Tehran has spread into one of Iran’s most widespread uprisings in years.
For four consecutive nights, demonstrators have filled the streets of Ahvaz, Abadan, Dezful, and other cities in Iran’s ethnically Arab southwest, openly calling for the government’s overthrow, even as security forces respond with escalating violence.
The participation of traditionally conservative merchants, middle-class neighborhoods, and residents of deeply religious cities marks a significant shift in a region that suffered immensely during the Iran–Iraq war and has typically remained politically quiet.
Now, with communications severed and the full scope of casualties unknown, witnesses describe a population that has crossed a psychological threshold.
“This time, people’s fear has disappeared,” said Qasem, a 28-year-old Ahvaz resident who described the protests as unprecedented in scale and intensity.
Traditional bazaar merchants march alongside university students. Middle-class neighborhoods known for political quietism have erupted in defiance.
“We are going for women’s rights, human rights, individual freedom rights, and the Iranian people’s freedom,” read the last message IranWire received from protesters in Dezful before communications were severed.
The information vacuum has deepened anxiety among Iranians, who remember the deadly crackdown that followed similar internet shutdowns during nationwide protests in November 2019.
The protests reached Khuzestan on January 8, as merchants in multiple cities joined a national strike that had already shuttered bazaars in Tehran and other major cities.
By evening in Ahvaz, the commercial heart of Iran’s southwestern oil region, the demonstrations had grown far beyond shopkeepers’ grievances.
Qasem watched from his apartment as crowds converged on the city center. Most residents of downtown Ahvaz belong to the traditional merchant class - conservative, older, and typically supportive of the government. But the protesters were overwhelmingly young.
“This time, the protests are in young people’s hands,” Qasem said. “Young people’s hangouts are in the Zeytoon and Kianpars neighborhoods. We moved ourselves from the city center there so the crowd would grow.”
In the middle-class Kianpars district, 20-year-old civil engineering student Novian witnessed clashes that began in the late afternoon and intensified after dark.
“The clashes were very serious, but at first they weren’t shooting to kill,” Novian said. “They were firing tear gas to scare and disperse people. There were also many fistfights. People really had no fear. They would chase the officers and flee.”
“When they cut the internet, everything changed,” he said. “Shootings increased, and gunfire came from all directions. It wasn’t even possible to distinguish who was shooting at whom. It was like an apocalypse movie.”
“This neighborhood has always housed people from the middle and upper classes,” Novian added. “At least, I don’t remember residents here getting involved in street protests before, even in 2022” - a reference to the nationwide demonstrations following the death of Mahsa Amini in police custody.
In Abadan, an Arab woman in traditional dress confronted riot police blocking access to a crowd of demonstrators.
A video of the encounter, shared before the internet blackout, shows her standing firm as an armed officer towers over her.
“People have rights. So what happened to the freedom you talked about?” she demands. Then she pulls back her abaya to reveal her head. “Look at my head. I have no hair from the salty water.”
The reference to Abadan’s long-running water crisis, where taps run with salty, undrinkable water blamed for health problems, highlights the protesters’ built-up anger.
The city still bears scars from the 2022 Metropol building collapse that killed at least 43 people and sparked protests over corruption and negligence.
Nader, a 19-year-old coffee shop worker, said demonstrations on Amiri Street included chants supporting Reza Pahlavi, son of the last shah, and condemning leaders of the Islamic Republic.
“I was one of those who until yesterday said, ‘Let these go - whoever comes next,’” Nader said, describing his political evolution. “Now, with the situation as it is, I say whoever comes is better than this. What could possibly be worse?”
He pointed to the recent disappearance of four young women in Abadan, two of whom were allegedly kidnapped in broad daylight. “The police didn’t have the guts to track them down,” he said.
According to Nader, security forces eventually retreated.
“Take their guns away, they have nothing,” he said. “Our hands are empty, but we have intelligence, courage, and motivation to take back and rebuild. This time, we are the winners.”
The Karun Human Rights Organization reported at least 20 arrests in Abadan. Fars News Agency published videos of what it described as detainees’ confessions, though the circumstances under which the recordings were made could not be verified.
Perhaps nowhere has the uprising seemed more improbable than in Dezful, a deeply religious city.
More than 2,600 people, mostly civilians, died there during the Iran–Iraq War in the 1980s. Many families lost sons fighting on the frontlines, and the city has long been considered loyal government territory.
Yet on January 8, protesters there too chanted, “Death to the dictator.”
The following morning, with internet and phone service severed, images circulated showing flames engulfing Imamzadeh Sabzqaba, a religious shrine in Dezful.
Government media quickly blamed protesters for the fire. But a young resident disputed that account.
He said authorities had recently buried Gholamali Rashid, a Revolutionary Guard commander killed in June 2025 during a brief war with Israel, in the shrine’s courtyard.
“Those who set the fire targeted a place meant to exploit people’s emotions,” he said. “Nothing is beyond the suppressors - they may even have started the fire themselves to justify harsher crackdowns.”
Such suspicions have precedent. In 1994, a bombing at a major Shia shrine in Mashhad was initially blamed on opposition groups, but later evidence suggested Iran’s Intelligence Ministry orchestrated the attack as part of a broader campaign that included assassinations of dissidents.
Tasnim News Agency has claimed “American and Israeli mercenaries” burned religious sites and accused protesters of torching banks, clinics, Basij militia bases, and a statue of Qassem Soleimani, the Revolutionary Guard commander killed by a U.S. drone strike in 2020.
Confirming casualties amid the communications blackout has proven difficult, but reports from local sources and rights groups paint a grim picture.
IranWire learned that security forces initially used tear gas, batons, and pellet guns on January 8 but shifted to live ammunition on January 9 and 10 as protests continued.
In Izeh, a young man named Iman Shapouri from the Korkur tribe was reportedly killed during protests.
In Ahvaz, the owner of a fruit stall in the Golestan marketplace was shot in the neck by security forces and killed, according to local sources.
Two people were reportedly wounded in Khorramshahr - a man named Ali Sakini and an unidentified woman. Their current condition is unknown.
Near the Intelligence Department headquarters in Ahvaz’s Golestan neighborhood, witnesses reported sustained heavy gunfire on the evening of January 10.
The internet shutdown has revived fears of a repeat of November 2019, when authorities severed connectivity during nationwide protests over fuel price hikes.
When access was restored, reports emerged that security forces had killed hundreds of demonstrators - casualty figures the government has never officially acknowledged.
Interested in writing for IranWire?
Share your stories.
comments