Bread lines, deserted streets and fear of airstrikes in Tehran: ‘Going outside is a risky gamble’

Dozens of people line up outside bakeries on the streets of Tehran, carrying worn cloth bags or pushing small wheeled carts, while checking cell phone apps to source other essential goods. It’s a scene that has been repeated since last Saturday, when U.S. and Israeli airstrikes began. “The bakeries are operating at half capacity, and waiting for hours has become part of daily life, with a constant fear of explosions at any moment,” Mohammad Reza Hosseini, a 55-year-old bank employee who lives near the well-known Palestine Square in the Iranian capital, told this newspaper.

Living in Tehran today is like living in a city under siege, seemingly abandoned by its inhabitants. Ambulances speed through the practically deserted streets. Fear pervades everything, and people live in a state of constant tension, punctuated by the drone of fighter jets, the wail of air raid sirens, and nearby explosions.

Our daily lives are now reduced to adapting to shortages of electricity, water, food, and medicine. Even the most basic things have become difficult

Mohammad Reza Hosseini, Tehran resident

“Group messages and messaging apps have become a lifeline,” says Reza Hosseini, explaining that essential goods are arriving at markets irregularly and vendors are rationing quantities based on what they receive from the government or local distributors.

In these closed groups, people share information about where to find bread, when water will arrive, where medicine is being distributed, and which emergency room doctor is nearby. “Our daily lives are now reduced to adapting to shortages of electricity, water, food, and medicine. Even the most basic things have become difficult,” Reza Hosseini adds, bitterly describing the transformation of his city. “The war has completely changed our way of life. We’re just focused on survival, and every time we go out, it’s a risky gamble,” he says.

A packed suitcase

Since Saturday, the conflict has claimed 787 lives in the Islamic Republic, according to the latest Red Crescent tally. Power outages make cooking, obtaining water, and traveling more difficult, leaving many families separated and isolated. At nightfall, the dim light of candles filters through the windows, and the more fortunate have generators to provide a little electricity. “The children study by candlelight. The nights are long and filled with fear because of the bombings,” says Reza Hosseini.

The dilemma for Mohammad Rezaei, 62, who worked as the public relations officer for the University of Tehran until his retirement, is whether to leave or stay. “I packed a small suitcase with our official documents and some clothes and left it near the door. Our plan was to leave Tehran heading north toward Gilan, where relatives tell me things are quieter,” he explained to this newspaper.

But the problem isn’t the destination; it’s an unsafe road, likely impassable, on which fuel could run out. “Every time we decide to leave, we hear another explosion and postpone the decision. My wife thinks staying home is less dangerous. And I’m torn between wanting to protect my children and fearing exposing them to greater danger by trying to escape,” he explains.

Mahdi Mousavi, 56, an engineer with the Ministry of Transport, shares the same doubts. “My children ask me why we don’t go north, and I explain that the decision isn’t easy. Leaving means abandoning everything we have: our jobs, our homes, and a routine that gives us a false sense of security,” he explains. “We’re following the situation closely. If the bombing intensifies, we’ll leave immediately.”

As the days go by, Iranians have also begun to find ways to survive. Neighbors share what they have and set up networks to ensure access to water and fuel for generators; local merchants sell their stockpiled goods at inflated prices; and attempts are being made to organize purchases from distant provinces and distribute them to the neediest areas. But the effect of this solidarity only momentarily alleviates the crisis.

My children ask me why we don’t go north, and I explain that the decision isn’t easy. Leaving means abandoning everything we have: our jobs, our homes, and a routine that gives us a false sense of security

Mahdi Mousavi, engineer

The daily challenge of finding food

Fatemeh Karimi, 43, who lives in the Baqestan district of western Iran, describes an even more critical situation. “Getting food has become a daily challenge: sometimes we can’t find bread or milk, and families have to share what they buy,” she says, adding that they can also go for hours without water.

“Children are constantly afraid because of the sound of air raid sirens. Schools have closed, and our homes have become the only place to learn and stay safe. Everything, even the most basic daily needs, has become difficult,” she adds.

One of the most pressing issues is access to medicines. Even before the bombings began, Iranian pharmacies were already experiencing shortages of some 200 essential medications, such as cancer treatments, antibiotics, and anticoagulants. Patients and their families were accustomed to searching in various pharmacies or contacting acquaintances in other provinces to see if they could find what they needed there. And when they did, the price was increasingly higher due to inflation and the weakness of the local currency, the rial.

“Now, hospitals are overflowing with the wounded. Pharmacies have few medications or only generic brands. It is difficult, for example, to obtain painkillers or asthma inhalers,” Reza Hosseini said.

On Sunday, airstrikes in Tehran caused damage but no casualties at the Khatam al-Anbiya and Gandhi hospitals, as well as the Iranian Red Crescent Peace Building, according to Iranian state television. The WHO has expressed concern about the attack, and reports of newborns having to be evacuated from incubators and taken to safety have drawn international criticism. Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian warned on Monday that attacks on medical and educational facilities violate humanitarian principles.

Meanwhile, doctors and nurses are working extremely long shifts. Witnesses say that wounded members of the Revolutionary Guard filled hospital wards reserved for them, while civilians were denied care, especially in outlying areas and other provinces.

Clinics in the outskirts of cities like Tehran, Karaj, and Qom are overwhelmed, and many qualified doctors have been recalled to the capital. Residents explain that they have been forced to seek alternatives such as traditional herbal remedies, informal networks for obtaining medicine, and local pharmacists who are operating beyond capacity, with all the risks this entails for patients’ health. Some young doctors have even set up makeshift emergency care in schools, mosques, or private homes to treat patients and those with minor injuries.

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