Download Between Two Worlds by Roxana Saberi PDF

By Roxana Saberi

In early 2009, Roxana Saberi, an American journalist born to Iranian and jap mom and dad, used to be pressured from her domestic in Tehran, secretly detained, and falsely accused of espionage--then sentenced to 8 years in legal. "Between Worlds" is the gripping and inspirational actual tale of her harrowing imprisonment and the religion that bought her via it, till a world outcry helped safe her unlock. alongside the best way, Saberi won energy from different prisoners--brave girls jailed for his or her pursuit of human rights equivalent to the liberty of speech and faith. This memoir of her fight to be precise to herself whatever the results additionally bargains penetrating insights into Iranian society, the Islamic regime, U.S.-Iran family, and the old alterations sweeping Iran at the present time. "Between Worlds" is a undying, common tale of the rigors and triumphs of the human spirit, in addition to a dramatic, illuminating account of the continued conflict for freedom in Iran.

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Sample text

CHAPTER FOUR A call to morning prayers reverberated through the air, startling me awake. ” Tall walls appeared all around me as I opened my eyes and felt the cold seeping through my body, reminding me that the previous day had been all too real. The guard from the night before opened my door to hand me a plastic cup of tea, along with some white bread and a sliver of cheese. I felt queasy. I didn’t touch the food and sat against the wall, speculating about what new horrors this day might bring.

Saying nothing, he handed the paper to me through the crack. My eyes scanned the page, skipping over most of the words, trying to figure out what this was all about. My modest Farsi-reading skills, combined with a growing sense of unease, were hindering my comprehension of what appeared to me as: Qeruzjiojitenajkfasdf azntxcjviorgtneafn 24 hours serjiojasfkjzfnty znernagyrhgbfg Evin Prison ewatngnmdfv. Evin Prison? I ran my eyes over the last line again. ” My heart began to pound. This Tehran jail was notorious for having held Iran’s most famous political prisoners, including students, academics, and activists.

He told me he would call the handyman. As I unlocked my door and entered my apartment, giggling children burst out of one neighbor’s unit and chased each other down the stairs, while Voice of America Persian boomed from another neighbor’s illegal satellite TV. I took off my long, black chador, which I had worn on my trip to Qom to blend in with the conservatively dressed local women, but instead of hanging the cloth on a hook as was customary, I returned it to its role of keeping the dust off my piano.

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