Forbidden Iran: How to Report When You're Banned: Via TIME Magazine .

Like other journalists who work for foreign media organizations, I was banned early on from reporting on the protests against the official victory of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. First, the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance sent a fax prohibiting me from reporting on the streets. Then I got a call to return my already annulled press card in person. Next, I received an anonymous phone call from a person with a strangely friendly voice, telling me, "There are powerful forces out there that do not want you to continue your work."

By the end of last week, I was cut off from most forms of communication altogether: mobile-phone text-messaging had already been blocked on the day of the election, and as the week went on, the entire mobile network was cut off from about late afternoon until midnight, the time when most demonstrations were being staged, making information-gathering from would-be participants impossible. Later, Internet connections were reduced to snail speed, and satellite television was almost entirely jammed. It was becoming impossible to report on events. The only "news" left unblocked was that propagated by state television.

(See pictures of the turbulent aftermath of Iran's presidential election.)

Everyone began turning to regular phone calls and e-mail, then the only means of communication among the majority of Iranians, apart from word of mouth at rallies. I started to obtain information about events from family, friends and people on the streets and in shops and taxis. But at least once I found myself caught up in street demonstrations and clashes when trying to cross town. On June 18, when about 200,000 Iranians held a mourning march for those killed in clashes, I walked past three chador-clad girls who were holding posters in front of their faces in order to conceal their identities. One of the posters read, "My friends have been attacked and killed in the girls' dormitory." For most bystanders, this was the first time they learned that two of the five students killed by paramilitary Basij on June 14 were female.
(Read about what the world didn't see on June 20, 2009, in Iran.)

One of the girls, who identified herself as Zeinab, 26, nervously pulled her chador down to cover as much of her face as she could. She explained that she felt a religious duty to attend the protest. "How dare these men who call themselves protectors of religion enter a girls' dormitory in the first place?" Zeinab said. Her friend Sara, 27, added, "Our problem goes beyond the elections. They are ruining our religion. They chant 'Heydar, Heydar' [a name for the Prophet Muhammad's cousin Imam Ali, a central Shi'ite leader] when they kill these innocent people. That's terrifying! They feel justified in the name of Islam!"
(See pictures of the Basij and Tehran's terror in plain clothes.)

Farther on, a student was standing a step up on a road divider, holding a poster that read, "220 Students Still Being Held," and on and on, the rally was like an information alley. "Tomorrow nothing is on, gather Saturday 4 p.m. Azadi!" was an oft-repeated mantra.

Many people I talked to at the protest said they were there because they wanted Supreme Leader Ayatullah Ali Khamenei to consider their large number before giving his June 19 sermon, which many believed would be decisive for the course of the country. But at Friday prayers the Ayatullah took a hard line, disappointing millions who had been hoping for leniency in the form of a recount or even a re-election. He said the election had been fair and that people should rest assured the "Islamic republic does not betray the votes of the people." Khamenei also warned that there would be zero tolerance for street rallies.

For many, the message was ominous. After the leader's speech, in which he blamed the unrest on foreign countries as well as "enemies in various media, which mostly belong to the malicious and evil Zionists," I decided it was time to leave. Reporting Iran over the past week has been a dangerous enterprise for everyone, but I knew that as a dual-national on freelance assignment for TIME, I was a particularly soft target. Soon after, other journalists were expelled or detained, including a reporter for Newsweek.

Read Original Article:(Via TIME Magazine.)