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PART FIVE: A SECOND LIFE 23 ‘The Girl Shot in the Head, Birmingham’ 24 ‘They have snatched her smile’ Epilogue: One Child, One Teacher, One Book, One Pen . . . Glossary Acknowledgements Important Events in Pakistan and Swat A Note on the Malala Fund Picture Section Additional Credits and Thanks Copyright
Prologue: The Day my World Changed I COME FROM a country which was created at midnight. When I almost died it was just after midday. One year ago I left my home for school and never returned. I was shot by a Taliban bullet and was flown out of Pakistan unconscious. Some people say I will never return home but I believe firmly in my heart that I will. To be torn from the country that you love is not something to wish on anyone. Now, every morning when I open my eyes, I long to see my old room full of my things, my clothes all over the floor and my school prizes on the shelves. Instead I am in a country which is five hours behind my beloved homeland Pakistan and my home in the Swat Valley. But my country is centuries behind this one. Here there is any convenience you can imagine. Water running from every tap, hot or cold as you wish; lights at the flick of a switch, day and night, no need for oil lamps; ovens to cook on that don’t need anyone to go and fetch gas cylinders from the bazaar. Here everything is so modern one can even find food ready cooked in packets. When I stand in front of my window and look out, I see tall buildings, long roads full of vehicles moving in orderly lines, neat green hedges and lawns, and tidy pavements to walk on. I close my eyes and for a moment I am back in my valley – the high snow-topped mountains, green waving fields and fresh blue rivers – and my heart smiles when it looks at the people of Swat. My mind transports me back to my school and there I am reunited with my friends and teachers. I meet my best friend Moniba and we sit together, talking and joking as if I had never left. Then I remember I am in Birmingham, England. The day when everything changed was Tuesday, 9 October 2012. It wasn’t the best of days to start with as it was the middle of school exams, though as a bookish girl I didn’t mind them as much as some of my classmates. That morning we arrived in the narrow mud lane off Haji Baba Road in our usual procession of brightly painted rickshaws, sputtering diesel fumes, each one crammed with five or six girls. Since the time of the Taliban our school has had no sign and the ornamented brass door in a white wall across from the woodcutter’s yard gives no hint of what lies beyond. For us girls that doorway was like a magical entrance to our own special world. As we skipped through, we cast off our head-scarves like winds puffing away clouds to make way for the sun then ran helter-skelter up the steps. At the top of the steps was an open courtyard with doors to all the classrooms. We dumped our backpacks in our rooms then gathered for morning assembly under the sky, our backs to the mountains as we stood to attention. One girl commanded, ‘Assaan bash! ’ or ‘Stand at ease!’ and we clicked our heels and responded, ‘Allah.’ Then she said, ‘Hoo she yar!’ or ‘Attention!’ and we clicked our heels again. ‘Allah.’ The school was founded by my father before I was born, and on the wall above us KHUSHAL SCHOOL was painted proudly in red and white letters. We went to school six mornings a week and as a fifteenyear-old in Year 9 my classes were spent chanting chemical equations or studying Urdu grammar; writing stories in English with morals like ‘Haste makes waste’ or drawing diagrams of blood circulation – most of my classmates wanted to be doctors. It’s hard to imagine that anyone would see
Page 3: I AM MALALA The Girl Who Stood Up f
Page 6 and 7: Contents Cover Title Page Dedicatio
Page 10 and 11: that as a threat. Yet, outside the
Page 12 and 13: My friends say he fired three shots
Page 14 and 15: 1 A Daughter Is Born WHEN I WAS bor
Page 16 and 17: We lived in Mingora, the biggest to
Page 18 and 19: When I was around four years old I
Page 20 and 21: primary school and ended the wesh s
Page 22 and 23: School wasn’t the only thing my a
Page 24 and 25: y the CIA. Children in the refugee
Page 26 and 27: homes to get them. He felt ashamed
Page 28 and 29: was in Saidu Sharif, the twin town
Page 30 and 31: our own book,’ he suggested. He e
Page 32 and 33: school owners from such bullying an
Page 34 and 35: for the night. It took them a week
Page 36 and 37: We drove out of the bazaar, past th
Page 38 and 39: Usually politicians only visited du
Page 40 and 41: I read my books like Anna Karenina
Page 42 and 43: I think everyone makes a mistake at
Page 44 and 45: or books many of his friends helped
Page 46 and 47: Aneesa from the village, who had co
Page 48 and 49: We were not fans of the Taliban as
Page 50 and 51: 7 The Mufti Who Tried to Close Our
Page 52 and 53: close it. Girls should not be going
Page 54 and 55: The mufti went quiet. He took off h
Page 56 and 57: 8 The Autumn of the Earthquake ONE
Page 58 and 59:
LashkareTaiba. LeT had close links
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Quran and Hadith when they teach th
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uilding a vast red-brick headquarte
Page 64 and 65:
The authorities turned a blind eye.
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time they had taken over fifty-nine
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esult in Benazir becoming prime min
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The Musharraf government later said
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The army action at the end of 2007
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questions. I wasn’t the only one
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no electricity, then a few days lat
Page 78 and 79:
journalists went. It seemed that pe
Page 80 and 81:
Swat. Initially Madam Maryam’s yo
Page 82 and 83:
Fortunately the Taliban had disappe
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a time of horror and fear. People o
Page 86 and 87:
fighting. The Taliban agreed to a t
Page 88 and 89:
‘There cannot be two swords in on
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Leaving the Valley LEAVING THE VALL
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if there was a tent for us, it was
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He laughed. ‘You already have lot
Page 96 and 97:
16 The Valley of Sorrows IT ALL SEE
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Muslim Khan and another commander c
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But my father had a big problem. Wh
Page 102 and 103:
We soon heard from our relatives th
Page 104 and 105:
17 Praying to Be Tall WHEN I WAS th
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passionately. ‘Fazlullah is the c
Page 108 and 109:
just sneak in under our radar? And
Page 110 and 111:
twenty-one girls and made our prior
Page 112 and 113:
Afterwards we went into the small m
Page 114 and 115:
‘Aba, this is a very strange situ
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patrols.’The army say there is pe
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then a pretty cousin came to stay w
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Atal got very cross. ‘No, no, no!
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21 ‘God, I entrust her to you’
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My mother was astonished to see all
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My father was bewildered by all the
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That first morning, just a few hour
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22 Journey into the Unknown I WAS S
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sweets. One mealtime Khushal said t
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My father then signed an ‘in loco
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23 ‘The Girl Shot in the Head, Bi
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had also ordered him not to cry as
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She told me that I had been shot on
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very kind, particularly Yma Choudhu
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24 ‘They have snatched her smile
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paralysed. The hospital had been gi
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Mr Zardari told the high commission
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complains about the murals of Greek
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classmates still keep the seat for
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Today we all know education is our
Page 156 and 157:
Pashtunwali - traditional behaviour
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students of the Khushal School, Ahm
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A note on the Malala Fund My goal i
Page 162 and 163:
My father’s friend Hidayatullah h
Page 164 and 165:
My father’s childhood home
Page 166 and 167:
Reading with my brother Khushal
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A school picnic
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At the beginning, people gave lots
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Making a speech to honour the peopl
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Painting at school
Page 176 and 177:
In our garden in Mingora, building
Page 178 and 179:
At school reading a story: ‘All T
Page 180 and 181:
My father and the elders of Swat
Page 182 and 183:
The bus where I was shot
Page 184 and 185:
First days in the Birmingham hospit
Page 186 and 187:
Our headmistress, Madam Maryam (lef
Page 188 and 189:
Sir Amjad, head of the boys’ scho
Page 190 and 191:
Speaking at the UN on my sixteenth
Page 192 and 193:
Here we are outside our new home in
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