British-Iranian Nazanin Zaghari- Ratcliffe, who works at Thomson Reuters Foundation, was on holiday in Iran in April 2016 when she was jailed for five years, accused of trying to overthrow the government – a crime she vehemently denies. Here, her husband Richard tells Grazia of his fears that she has developed breast cancer – and plans to stage a hunger strike to receive treatment...
It's now been a month since Nazanin was urgently referred to an emergency specialist a er she found lumps in her breasts and felt sharp, stabbing pains. And yet, the prison still hasn’t allowed her to go to hospital. She was referred by a medic, but the head of the prison clinic, Mr Khani, blocked her from getting the help she might desperately need. Breast cancer runs in Nazanin’s family – her mum had it seven years ago and thankfully survived.
Understandably, Nazanin is panicking and finding it hard not to picture the worst. She’s threatening a hunger strike later this month. I really hope she doesn’t, but I accept that she feels so desperate she might need to. She worries her life is wasting away. Back in October, she collapsed on the floor of her cell and was lying there, unable to move for a week. She was referred to a neurologist then, but that was blocked too.
Ever since she was granted three days of furlough in August, when she was allowed to see our four-year-old daughter Gabriella, there’s been a hardening of prison rules. The only treatment I’ve seen anyone get since is when a man had a heart attack. It’s part of a general tightening of prison conditions to show they won’t be pushed around since things became very volatile in Iran.
I try not to google cancer symptoms or dwell on what this could mean for her, instead focusing on the things I can control. But it was hard hearing her cry over Christmas as the realisation sunk in that she was spending it alone in prison for another year. Her 40th birthday was on Boxing Day and we always thought she’d be out long before then. Our daughter, who is currently living with Nazanin’s parents in Tehran, visited her in prison that day. They had an apple tart and Gabriella blew out the candles and made a wish that her mummy and daddy would be let out of prison soon. She thinks I’m in prison, too, because she doesn’t remember seeing me any more.
She was only 21 months old when I waved them off at Gatwick airport in April 2016, as Nazanin took her on holiday to visit her family. I’ve tried to get a visa so I can collect her, but I haven’t been granted one. As far as Gabriella’s concerned, I’m just a presence on the phone or a screen. She asked Nazanin, ‘Mummy, have you ever met Daddy?’ that really upset her. But then how could Gabriella understand life before this?
Nazanin and I realised that if this Christmas passed and we still hadn’t made progress, we’d need to step up our campaign to get her help. We’ve tried asking nicely and asking loudly; now we’re going to push for a meeting at the UN security council, and we’ve requested diplomatic protection. It’s like a staircase, and every so often we need to take a step up and make it clear we’re not going to let this go away.
The thousand-day mark was a threshold for me; we crossed it and I’m stepping up the staircase. Hopefully, this will be the final step we make.
To support the campaign for Nazanin’s release, visit___amnesty.org.uk/actions/help-get-nazanin-zaghari-ratcliffe-home_