The ancient fire temple of Zoroastrians sits on a rugged hill west of the city of Esfahan overlooking the valley and the river that cuts the city in half. At sunset the sun paints the temple orange and casts its soft light across the city.

On an evening in the May of 2008 I climbed the hill with a cameraman and a producer to shoot some of the vistas for a one hour documentary I was helping Rick Steves Produce on Iran.

As we started to climb the steep hill the winds started to gust and our faces were covered with dust. At the top of the hill it was hard to hold the camera steady on the tripod due to the force of the wind. As I was scanning the horizon a man in his early fifties appeared, looking tired and ragged as he made his way up to the temple.

Like most everyone we ran into in Iran, he immediately wanted to know where our foreign guests where from. I told him that they were Americans. All of a sudden, the expression on his face changed, his eyes almost bulging, his face turned red and he said "I hate Americans! They started the Iran/Iraq war and they encouraged Saddam and supported him for eight years. I lost all of my brothers and friends in that war and my life has been Hell ever since!" As he pronounced this to me, he started to walk quickly towards Simon and Karel who were starting to head down the hill. This was the first and only time during our ten day shoot in Iran that I was scared for the crew's safety. What if he pushed them down the slippery hill? The man's face was filled with pain and he looked many years older than his age. It was easy to tell that he had severe PTSD from a war that ended with the death of 1,000,000 Iranians and Iraqis. A war that Henry Kissinger had proclaimed should have no winners. One in which America's best interests would be served if both sides lost. A war in which America sold weapons to both sides.

As I grabbed the arm of the man, I yelled out to Simon and Karel to make their way down the hill fast. All I could offer him was a listening ear. As we descended the hill, I held his arm and listened to his stories of pain and sorrow. He told me the losses he had faced in the eight years of the war and the twenty years since.

By the time we arrived at our van, I introduced the man to Rick Steves and the crew. By then his eyes were soft and his demeanor calm. He now had the serenity of someone who had come in touch with something deep inside himself. He invited us to his house for tea and when he heard that we had to get under way, he was deeply disappointed that he could not serve tea to the people he perceived as his former enemies. I gave him a hug and thanked him and wished him peace.

As we left him, we were heading to the cemetery that holds thousands of soldiers who had died in that war. On Thursday evenings it is customary for Iranians to mourn the loss of their loved ones at cemeteries. We were now going to be a witness to the mothers and fathers who were mourning the loss of their sons of that war.

Abdi Sami is a photographer and filmmaker who accompanied Rick Steves to Iran in May 2008, to make a film on Iran and its people.