From the Memoir: Malala Recounts Her 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 there on their holidays, I deserved the same. 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 him. “I will book my own flight, leave this house in a cab, and call Moniba when I land to pick me up.” Deep down, I wasn’t that bold, but I wasn’t sure my dad knew—and that might give me some leverage.
Every time we asked, the answer was the same: “It’s not the right moment for Malala’s return.” My dad had heard it so often I worried he was giving up.
“It will never be the ‘right’ moment!” I railed, trying to rouse his indignation. “I am a Pakistani citizen with a valid passport. They have no grounds to stop me.”
Though I sounded angry, inside my heart was breaking. In just a few weeks at 24 OBS, I’d experienced more reminders of home—food, music, sports, language—than in the past five years. That reawakening felt painful, like blood rushing into numb limbs.
I was done stalking old friends on Facebook, done walking the streets on Google Maps. I couldn’t keep dreaming of home at night and waking up disoriented every morning.
Author's Summary
Malala’s longing for home fuels her courage to return to Pakistan, despite repeated warnings and uncertainty about the timing.