My plan may not have been watertight, but it was a plan. I was supposed to get the news first. Would it be possible to plan to be in the right place, at the right time? Should I, for once, be able to ring the doorbell of the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize just as Berit Reiss-Andersen is reading out the name of this year’s winner? THE MOMENT OF TRUTH: Where were you when Berit Reiss-Andersen announced this year’s peace prize winner? Photo: NTB It is easy to become cynical when talking about the Nobel Peace Prize. There will never be peace, despite this annual ceremony. After another year of carnage and doom in Ukraine, I had actually envisioned the possibility that the committee would shake its head and say “Sorry, this isn’t working. Honestly. No one gets an award this year.” But cynicism notwithstanding, the award has undeniably provided some nice moments of optimism. Besides, it’s fun to guess, or hope for luck, not least as a journalist. I was right at the headquarters of the World Food Program in Rome when the UN organization received the award in 2020, for example. (Admittedly, it took some time before I got to interview the organization’s leader, David Beasley, as he was in Yemen when the good news came, but still.) Beyond that, I guess I have neither guessed correctly nor been lucky. But this year I was ready. I had gone to The Hague. BOMTUR: In the wrong place at the right time Photo: Simen Ekern Why couldn’t one imagine that the Nobel Committee believes that the many attacks on the international legal order are the greatest scourge of our time? Wouldn’t it be good to recognize those who uphold laws and regulations as the last straw of civilization? Wouldn’t the International Criminal Court in The Hague be a good tip this year? No. Good trip to Paris «Zan. Zendegi. Azadi”. When it was eleven o’clock, these were the words Berit Reiss Andersen uttered. Woman. Life. Freedom. A powerful slogan from the fight for women’s rights in Iran. A slogan that has resonated all over the world. PEACE PRIZE WINNER: Narges Mohammadi in 2021 Photo: Reihane Taravati / AP Narges Mohammadi is a brave and worthy winner. I was happy for her, and the large building that houses the criminal court in The Hague didn’t seem disappointed either, from the outside. It was just a matter of unpacking the camera, clicking the camera stand together and nodding collegially to a couple of other TV crews who had been as bad at guessing as I was. I had gotten up quite early to catch the fast train from Brussels to The Hague, and was actually looking forward to a cup of coffee on the train back. Reaching the Evin prison in Iran, where Narges Mohammadi is sitting, seemed out of reach. Naturally, you are also not allowed in, and that was outside my area of responsibility as European correspondent anyway. Paris, on the other hand, is inside. And the peace prize winner’s husband and children live there, it turned out. So instead of a train to Brussels, it was a flight to Paris. Then taxi on motorways with completely stationary queues into one of the city’s north-eastern suburbs, where the family lives. MEMORIES: Taghi Rahmani shows a picture of himself and Narges Mohammadi, a time when they could be together. Photo: CHRISTIAN HARTMANN / Reuters I had a promise of an interview alone before a joint press conference, thanks to an Iranian photographer an news colleague had arranged contact with. Now they waited in the living room, but time was running out. – You should have taken a motorbike taxi. Much faster, but much more expensive, said the taxi driver. – Okay, I said, and looked at the clock. – Good, there was an award that is critical of the regime in Iran. They are behind all the crap that happens in the Middle East, said the taxi driver. – Okay, I said, and looked at the clock again. Ten minutes before the press conference was to begin, I ran into the backyard, where about thirty journalists and photographers were waiting. I was led up a back staircase, and we got the camera connected. Half a life without the mother – Change in Iran is only possible if civil society stands together. It is not an easy task, said Taghi Rahmani, the peace laureate’s husband. He hoped the award would be an inspiration to all human rights activists. Because the prize is not just a prize for Narges, but for everyone who fights for freedom in Iran, he stressed. Then he talked about the two twins they have together, Ali and Kiana, two 17-year-olds who haven’t seen their mother in eight years. PROUD: Kiana, Taghi and Ali Rahmani Photo: Simen Ekern – It has been painful for us. Perhaps especially for our daughter, Kiana. But Narges will not feel free until everyone is free, said Rahmani, who himself has spent several periods in prison. – She has often said she hopes Ali and Kiana will forgive her for the choice she has made to continue fighting, he said. Out in the backyard, Ali was so proud that he thought his mother’s hopes of being forgiven by him were laughable. – She has nothing to apologize for, he said. – She is in prison because of us. For the children of Iran. For my sister to have the same rights as me. I am just proud and grateful, said Ali Rahmani. And the twin sister? PROUD: Kiana Rahmani, daughter of this year’s peace prize winner Photo: Simen Ekern Dressed in a black tracksuit with red stripes, large white headphones around her neck and her hair in a ponytail, Kiana Rahmani came a little later than the others to the backyard. She seemed serious, but when she smiled, it was as if she glowed. – It is a very nice day. It’s so nice to see my dad happy, it doesn’t happen very often, said Kiana. – My brother smiles all the time today, and I notice that I do it myself. Like her brother, Kiana has lived half her life without seeing her mother. She has previously asked her parents why they really had children, if they knew that this fight was going to be so important in their lives. But the 17-year-old sees it differently now. – All children need their parents. It’s horrible to think of all those who have to live without. But my mother, she has chosen to fight for what she believes in, she said. Kiana explained that her memories of her mother become a little more hazy and hazy as she gets older. – But they are always there, she said. – I hope we can see each other again and that things will get better. But most of all, I want her to continue to stand up for what she believes in, said Kiana. – I know she loves us, and that’s enough. She’s always with me no matter what. MEMORIES: Kiana Rahmani has many memories of her mother, although they become more hazy the older she gets Photo: Simen Ekern My day, which had started with trains and planes and taxis and a slightly hectic journalistic search for something else the evening broadcasts suddenly became a little different. The warm afternoon light in the backyard, the serious, glowing smile, and Kiana’s way of talking about her mother who was gone, yet always present, made a deep impression on me. And when I asked Kiana how she saw the future in Iran, I suddenly saw the peace prize a little differently too. – Yesterday I looked at it darkly, she said. – The situation is catastrophic. I think I can use that word. But now that she has won, I hope it can set something in motion. Life is difficult for everyone in Iran, and especially for the women. We all deserve to live freely. And I hope that my mother winning the Nobel Prize can give hope to everyone, said Kiana Rahmani. Long day’s journey towards night I took the last evening train from Paris to Brussels. One day, three countries, and a hint of optimism. If the daughter of a jailed Nobel laureate thinks the award can lead to change, I shouldn’t doubt it, not that night anyway. When I woke up the next morning, Hamas had begun its attacks on Israeli civilians. An hour and a half later, Israel declared war, and began its massive rocket attacks. There were 364 days until next year’s peace prize ceremony.
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