Prologue

I come from a country which was created at midnight. Prologue

To be torn from the country that you love is not something to wish on anyone. Prologue

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. Prologue

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. Prologue

Yet, outside the door to the school lay not only the noise and craziness of Mingora, the main city of Swat, but also those like the Taliban who think girls should not go to school. Prologue

‘… Jani mun,’ he would say. This means ‘soulmate’ in Persian, and he always called me that at the start of the day. (Malala, on her father) Prologue

Only twice had I not come top – both times when I was beaten by my class rival Malka e-Noor. I was determined it would not happen again. Prologue

‘Who is Malala?’ he demanded. No one said anything, but several of the girls looked at me. I was the only girl with my face not covered. Prologue

Chapter 1

For most Pashtuns it’s a gloomy day when a daughter is born. Chapter 1

He took the tree, drew a line like a lollipop from his name and at the end of it he wrote, ‘Malala’. His cousin laughed in astonishment. My father didn’t care. Chapter 1

We lived in the most beautiful place in all the world. Chapter 1

My valley, the Swat Valley, is a heavenly kingdom of mountains, gushing waterfalls and crystal-clear lakes. WELCOME TO PARADISE , it says on a sign as you enter the valley. Chapter 1

For as long as I can remember my mother has talked to birds. Chapter 1

Our home was always full of people visiting from the village. Hospitality is an important part of Pashtun culture. Chapter 1

I played mostly with Khushal because he was just two years younger than me, but we fought all the time. He would go crying to my mother and I would go to my father. Chapter 1

They glimpsed enough of each other to know they liked one another, but for us it is taboo to express such things. Instead he sent her poems she could not read. (Malala, on her parents’ courting) Chapter 1

Though she cannot read or write, my father shares everything with her, telling her about his day, the good and the bad. Chapter 1

My father came from a backward village yet through education and force of personality he made a good living for us and a name for himself. Chapter 1

So I was born a proud daughter of Pakistan, though like all Swatis I thought of myself first as Swati and then Pashtun, before Pakistani. Chapter 1

While boys and men could roam freely about town, my mother and I could not go out without a male relative to accompany us, even if it was a five-year-old boy! This was the tradition. Chapter 1

I had decided very early I would not be like that. My father always said, ‘Malala will be free as a bird.’ Chapter 1

Chapter 2

A stutter was a terrible thing for a man who so loved words and poetry. (Malala, on her father) Chapter 2

He was an impatient man at the best of times and would fly into a rage over the smallest thing – like a hen going astray or a cup getting broken. (Malala’s grandfather, Baba) Chapter 2

He was a mesmerising speaker. His sermons at Friday prayers were so popular that people would come down from the mountains by donkey or on foot to hear him. (Baba) Chapter 2

‘From early on I could feel I was different from my sisters,’ my father says. (Ziauddin) Chapter 2

‘No struggle can ever succeed without women participating side by side with men. There are two powers in the world; one is the sword and the other is the pen. There is a third power stronger than both, that of women.’ (Jinnah) Chapter 2

He described what was happening in Afghanistan as a ‘war between two elephants’ – the US and the Soviet Union – not our war, and said that we Pashtuns were ‘like the grass crushed by the hooves of two fierce beasts’. (Rahmat Shah Sayel, a Peshawar poet) Chapter 2

My father was in awe of my grandfather and told me wonderful stories about him, but he also told me that he was a man who could not meet the high standards he set for others. Chapter 2

It was my grandmother’s faith in my father that gave him the courage to find his own proud path he could travel along. This is the path that he would later show me. Chapter 2

When my father tells me stories of his childhood, he always says that though Baba was a difficult man he gave him the most important gift – the gift of education. Chapter 2

Chapter 3

He thought there was nothing more important than knowledge. Chapter 3

He believed that lack of education was the root of all Pakistan’s problems. Chapter 3

He wanted to encourage independent thought and hated the way the school he was at rewarded obedience above openmindedness and creativity. Chapter 3

We Pashtuns cannot turn away relatives or friends, however inconvenient. We don’t respect privacy and there is no such thing as making an appointment to see someone. Visitors can turn up whenever they wish and can stay as long as they want. Chapter 3

Chapter 4

You could see the White Mountain from everywhere, and my father told me he used to think of it as a symbol of peace for our land, a white flag at the end of our valley. Chapter 4

Wearing a burqa is like walking inside big fabric shuttlecock with only a grille to see through and on hot days it’s like an oven. At least I didn’t have to wear one. Chapter 4

‘I will protect your freedom, Malala. Carry on with your dreams.’ (Ziauddin) Chapter 4

Chapter 5

At first stealing gave me a thrill, but that did not last long. Soon it became a compulsion. I did not know how to stop. Chapter 5

Since that day I have never lied or stolen …I also stopped wearing jewellery because I asked myself, What are these baubles which tempt me? Why should I lose my character for a few metal trinkets? Chapter 5

I came second.
It didn’t matter. Lincoln also wrote in the letter to his son’s teacher, ‘Teach him how to gracefully lose.’ Chapter 5

Chapter 6

The girl had a big sack and was sorting rubbish into piles, one for cans, one for bottle tops, another for glass and another for paper. Nearby there were boys fishing in the pile for metal using magnets on strings. Chapter 6

Though my mother was not educated, she was the practical one in the family, the doer while my father was the talker. Chapter 6

He tried to explain that those children were breadwinners so if they went to school, even for free, the whole family would go hungry. Chapter 6

From an early age I was interested in politics and sat on my father’s knee listening to everything he and his friends discussed. Chapter 6

But I was more concerned with matters closer to home – our own street to be exact. I told my friends at school about the rubbish-dump children and that we should help. Chapter 6

‘We can sit by and hope the government will help but they won’t. If I can help support one or two children and another family supports one or two then between us we can help them all.’ (Malala) Chapter 6

Chapter 7

‘You are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any other place of worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion or caste or creed – that has nothing to do with the business of the state.’ (Jinnah) Chapter 7

… we were not at war with the Americans and were shocked that they would launch attacks from the sky on our soil. Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Mullahs … preached that the earthquake was a warning from God. If we did not mend our ways and introduce shariat or Islamic law … more severe punishment would come. Chapter 8

Chapter 9

These were strange-looking men with long straggly hair and beards and camouflage vests over their shalwar kamiz, which they wore with the trousers well above the ankle. (the Taliban) Chapter 9

‘It’s ridiculous,’ my father would say, ‘that this so-called scholar is spreading ignorance.’ (Ziauddin, on Fazlullah) Chapter 9

Mullahs often misinterpret the Quran and Hadith when they teach them in our country as few people understand the original Arabic. Fazlullah exploited this ignorance. Chapter 9

‘This is how these militants work. They … first see what the local problems are and target those responsible, and that way they get the support of the silent majority. … After, when they get power, they behave like the criminals they once hunted down.’ (Hidayatullah, to Ziauddin) Chapter 9

Chapter 10

First the Taliban took our music, then our Buddhas, then our history. Chapter 10

We felt like the Taliban saw us as little dolls to control, telling us what to do and how to dress. I thought if God wanted us to be like that He wouldn’t have made us all different. Chapter 10

All this happened and no one did a thing. Chapter 10

When it suits the Taliban, women can be vocal and visible. Chapter 10

‘But you just use him to learn the literal meaning of the words; don’t follow his explanations and interpretation. Only learn what God says. His words are divine messages, which you are free and independent to interpret.’ (Ziauddin to Malala) Chapter 10

Chapter 11

We were scared, but our fear was not as strong as our courage. Chapter 11

My father said the Taliban presence in Swat was not possible without the support of some in the army and the bureaucracy. Chapter 11

Never in history have Khushal and Malala been friends. Chapter 11

The state is meant to protect the rights of its citizens, but it’s a very difficult situation when you can’t tell the difference between state and non-state and can’t trust the state to protect you against non-state. Chapter 11

He hated the fact that most people would not speak up. (Malala, on her father) Chapter 11

My father used to say the people of Swat and the teachers would continue to educate our children until the last room, the last teacher and the last student was alive. Chapter 11

The Taliban could take our pens and books, but they couldn’t stop our minds from thinking. Chapter 11

Chapter 12

They are abusing our religion,’ I said in interviews. ‘How will you accept Islam if I put a gun to your head and say Islam is the true religion? If they want every person in the world to be Muslim why don’t they show themselves to be good Muslims first?’ (Malala) Chapter 12

One day I saw my little brother Atal digging furiously in the garden. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked him.
‘Making a grave,’ he said. Our news bulletins were full of killings and death so it was natural for Atal to think of coffins and graves. Chapter 12

The Taliban bulldozed both our Pashtun values and the values of Islam. Chapter 12

Chapter 13

When you’re very young, you love the burqa because it’s great for dressing up. But when you are made to wear it, that’s a different matter. Chapter 13

I began to see that the pen and the words that come from it can be much more powerful than machine guns, tanks or helicopters. Chapter 13

Education is education. We should learn everything and then choose which path to follow. Education is neither Eastern nor Western, it is human. Chapter 13

Chapter 14

We were lucky too that Madam Maryam was brave and resisted the pressure to stop working. She had known my father since she was ten and they trusted each other completely … Chapter 14

‘The secret school is our silent protest,’ she told us. (Madam Maryam) Chapter 14

Chapter 15

But my mother was very composed and courageous. Chapter 15

‘It is as though we are the Israelites leaving Egypt, but we have no Moses to guide us.’ (Ziauddin) Chapter 15

I always knew my mother was a strong woman but I looked at her with new respect. (when Malala’s mother defends herself against a man’s advances) Chapter 15

Chapter 16

I felt sorry that our precious school had become a battlefield. Chapter 16

Our country had so many crises and no real leaders to tackle them. Chapter 16

Chapter 17

He had been living in a large walled compound less than a mile from our military academy. We couldn’t believe the army had been oblivious to bin Laden’s whereabouts. Chapter 17

‘I know the importance of education because my pens and books were taken from me by force.’ (excerpt from speech at Pakistani education gala) Chapter 17

She herself would never appear in public. She refused even to be photographed. She is a very traditional woman… Were she to break that tradition, men and women would talk against her, particularly those in our own family. (Tor Pekai) Chapter 17

… when I won prizes, she said, ‘I don’t want awards, I want my daughter. I wouldn’t exchange a single eyelash of my daughter for the whole world.’ (Tor Pekai) Chapter 17

I knew that any of the girls in my class could have achieved what I had achieved if they had had their parents’ support. Chapter 17

‘My only ambition,’ he said, ‘is to educate my children and my nation as much as I am able. But when half of your leaders tell lies and the other half is negotiating with the Taliban, there is nowhere to go. One has to speak out.’ (Ziauddin) Chapter 17

Chapter 18

My headmistress Maryam was a strong, educated woman but in our society she could not live on her own and come to work. She had to be living with a husband, brother or parents. Chapter 18

Nowhere is it written in the Quran that a woman should be dependent on a man. Chapter 18

It was hard to visit that place and read those speeches without thinking that Jinnah would be very disappointed in Pakistan. … He wished us to be independent, to be tolerant, to be kind to each other. He wanted everyone to be free whatever their beliefs. Chapter 18

Chapter 19

My father spoke like a lion, but I could see in his heart he was worried and scared. Chapter 19

His only precaution was to change his routine. (Malala, on her father) Chapter 19

After the threats against me my mother didn’t like me walking anywhere and insisted I get a rickshaw to school and take the bus home even though it was only a five-minute walk. Chapter 19

Chapter 21

All children are special to their parents, but to my father I was his universe. I had been his comrade in arms for so long, first secretly as Gul Makai, then quite openly as Malala. (after Malala is shot) Chapter 21

‘God, I entrust her to You’… (Tor Pekai) Chapter 21

While I was hovering between life and death, the Taliban issued a statement assuming responsibility for shooting me but denying it was because of my campaign for education. Chapter 21

Chapter 22

‘If anything had happened to her it would have been blamed on the white woman,’ she said afterwards. ‘If she’d died I would have killed Pakistan’s
Mother Teresa.’ (Dr Fiona) Chapter 22

Chapter 23

… I didn’t even think a single bad thought about the man who shot me – I had no thoughts of revenge – I just wanted to go back to Swat. I wanted to go home. Chapter 23

Chapter 24

‘…The Taliban are very cruel – they have snatched her smile,’ he added. ‘You can give someone eyes or lungs but you cannot restore their smile.’ (Ziauddin) Chapter 24

Epilogue

I used to be known as his daughter; now he’s known as my father. Epilogue

‘Let us pick up our books and our pens,’ I said. ‘They are our most powerful weapons. One child, one teacher, one book and one pen can change the world.’ (Malala to the UN) Epilogue