From the Memoir: Malala's First Visit to Pakistan After the Attack
An excerpt from Finding My Way by Malala Yousafzai.
When I arrived in Birmingham for spring break, I told my dad we needed to go to Pakistan. If my college friends could visit their country on holidays, I deserved the same right. I was growing impatient; it felt like if it didn’t happen now, it never would.
“Let’s put it off until summer,” he said.
“If you want to wait, that’s fine. I’ll go on my own,” I shot back, daring. “I will book my own flight, leave this house in a cab, and call Moniba when I land to pick me up.”
Deep inside, I knew I wasn’t that bold, but I wasn’t sure my dad realized it — and that might give me some advantage.
Every time, the same response returned: “It’s not the right moment for Malala’s return.” My dad had heard it so often that I worried he was giving up.
“It will never be the ‘right’ moment!” I railed, trying to infect him with my indignation. “I am a Pakistani citizen with a valid passport. And they have no grounds to stop me.”
I sounded angry, but inside my heart was breaking. In a few weeks, I’d experienced more reminders of home — the food, music, sports, language — than in the past five years. That reawakening felt painful, like blood rushing back into numb limbs.
I was done stalking my old friends on Facebook, done wandering streets on Google Maps. I couldn’t keep dreaming of home at night and waking up lost every morning.
Author's summary: Malala’s deep longing for Pakistan clashes with the persistent delays in her return, revealing her struggle between courage and vulnerability.