I was held hostage in an Iranian prison with Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe – one important thing helped me survive

After being held in Tehran’s notorious Evin prison for years, Anoosheh Ashoori was finally released to reunite with his family and continue his life in London. On the second anniversary of his release, he explains what kept him going during his ordeal – and how you can help those currently going through the same thing

Anoosheh Ashoori and Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe were both released from Tehran’s notorious Evin Prison two years ago (Anoosheh Ashoori)

Some people will remember me from those TV images where I’m coming down the steps of a plane alongside Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe.

That was two years ago. After deeply gruelling experiences we’d both been released from Tehran’s notorious Evin prison, where we’d spent years unfairly jailed. And here we were, back in the UK. It felt like a dream.

For me, there’s a before-Evin and there’s very much an after-Evin. Up until the moment of my arrest in 2017, I was a perfectly ordinary Iranian-British dual citizen. My roots were in Iran but a passion for aerospace led to me coming to the UK aged 18 to study aeronautics at Cranfield University. Then I was back in Iran, helping my father with his work in the construction industry.

The Anglo-Iranian life continued. Impressed by British education, my wife Sherry sent our children to the UK to study and then, in 2004, we decided to reunite in the UK and build a life here together. Lewisham in southeast London became our home (and still is).

So far, so ordinary. A typical dual national’s life, you might say. We all had our hobbies, our jobs and, truth be told, a very happy life. Sherry’s a fervent Lord of the Rings fan, which inspired me to construct a hobbit house in our garden – our own private whimsy. My daughter is in the cookie-making trade, so I built a macaroon-making machine using some of my old engineering knowledge. Biscuits and Lord of the Rings – could we sound more British?

In August 2017, all this came to a juddering halt. I travelled to Iran to visit my mother who was recovering from an operation. One fateful day, I was abducted in the street and ended up in two interrogation centres – one run by the Ministry of Intelligence, the other by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. Subsequently, they transferred me to Evin prison and eventually sentenced me to 12 years, accusing me of spying for Israel.

Some years later, it became clear that I was just a pawn in a much larger diplomatic game. The Iranian government was using the arbitrary detention of me, Nazanin and others to pressure the UK into paying a £400m debt still owed to Iran from a 1970s deal to sell Chieftain tanks.

What was life like trapped in Evin and other places of detention? There are really no adequate words but suffice it to say that under interrogation – including during truly terrifying “white torture” noise abuse – I reached the brink of endurance, especially when they made threats to harm my family. I made three suicide attempts. Fortunately, I pulled through.

Life in Evin was undeniably grim. There were bedbugs, cockroaches, rats, and entirely unhygienic conditions. The food was poor, and we were crammed into dormitory-style rooms. Yet there was also camaraderie among the inmates. To preserve our sanity, we banded together, forming exercise groups and societies devoted to poetry, philosophy and languages. To my surprise, Evin prison metamorphosed into “Evin University”.

Things then changed profoundly for me in late 2019. I was two years into my Evin incarceration when a cellmate gave me Haruki Murakami’s book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I was later given another book, Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, an Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor.

Together, these amazing works entirely transformed my perspective, igniting a new sense of purpose and meaning. They inspired me to hope, to dream. One goal I set for myself was to run the London Marathon if and when I was released. After my release, notwithstanding that I was well into my sixties, I did exactly that – I ran the marathon a few months after that plane journey back to the UK.

Hope inspires hope, courage inspires courage. For nearly five years, my wife and kids suffered sleepless nights and made immense sacrifices to pressure the UK government into trying to get me out. Organisations like Amnesty International and Hostage International rallied round, as did thousands of members of the public.

To be clear, life after Evin hasn’t been just happy marathon training and renewed family bliss. Since my return, I’ve had anxiety attacks and flashbacks. I’m plagued by nightmares of being back in Evin, trapped in the confines of my bunk bed, which I once dubbed the “Coffin”. I still see the faces of those I left behind and feel guilty that I’m out and they’re not.

Yet, now more than ever, I find joy in life’s simplest pleasures. Strolling hand in hand with my wife through the park as we walk our dog, Romeo. Having a beer with friends, tending to the garden. Those ordinary things we all take for granted.

But what about those still in jail in Iran? The women’s rights protesters, the peaceful dissidents, and the dual nationals targeted in a sick game of “hostage diplomacy”?

They include Mehran Raoof, a UK trade unionist who was jailed for 10 years on national security-related charges following a grossly unfair trial in 2021. Please, if you’re reading this, don’t forget about Mehran’s plight and the need to press the government to win his freedom.

If you are experiencing feelings of distress, or are struggling to cope, you can speak to the Samaritans, in confidence, on 116 123 (UK and ROI), email jo@samaritans.org, or visit the Samaritans website to find details of your nearest branch

If you are based in the USA, and you or someone you know needs mental health assistance right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Helpline on 1-800-273-TALK (8255). This is a free, confidential crisis hotline that is available to everyone 24 hours a day, seven days a week

If you are in another country, you can go to befrienders.org to find a helpline near you