The Malala

Malala said that We do not want the people of Swat to become a victim of terrorism once again and once again there will be explosions and massacres. This is my hope that our leaders, whoever the establishment is, should play their role and maintain peace in Swat. 

I remember the day I was lying in a hospital bed in Boston undergoing my sixth operation, as the doctors continued to treat the damage the Taliban had done to my body. In October 2012, the Pakistani Taliban One of the members of the school boarded my school wagon and shot me in the left knee. The bullet went through my left eye, near my skull and brain. Injured my facial nerve, ruptured my eardrum and severely damaged my jaw joints. Emergency surgeons in Peshawar temporarily removed my left skull bone to allow for the injury to my brain. Create space for swelling. His quick action undoubtedly saved my life but soon my organs stopped working and I was airlifted to Islamabad. After a week, the doctors decided that I needed intensive care and that I should be transferred out of the country to continue treatment. 

During this period I was kept in a coma. I don't remember anything from the day I was shot until I woke up at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham. When I opened my eyes, I realized I was alive, but I didn't know where I was or why I was surrounded by English-speaking strangers. I had a terrible headache. My vision was blurred. The tube in my neck made it impossible for me to speak. After several days I was unable to speak but I started writing things down in a notebook which I would show to everyone who came into the room. I wrote some questions: What happened to me? where is my father Who will pay for this treatment? We have no money. I wrote the word mirror and showed it to the nurses. I wanted to see myself. I recognized only half of my face in the mirror. The second part was unknown to me. Black eye, gunpowder splatter, no smile, no sparkle, even I couldn't shake it. Half of my hair was shaved off. I thought the Taliban had done this to me as well. But the nurse said that the doctors had shaved for the surgery. 

I tried to stay calm. I told myself, 'When they discharge me, I will find a job, earn some money, buy a phone, call my family and work until I get out of the hospital. Don't pay all the bills.'I believed in my strength. I was confident that I would leave the hospital running like a wolf, flying like a hawk, but I soon realized that I couldn't move most of my body. The doctors hoped that my condition was temporary. I touched my stomach. He was rigid and inflexible. I asked the nurse if there is any problem with my stomach. He told me that when the Pakistani surgeons removed part of my skull bone, they transferred it to my stomach so that after some time they could do another surgery and put it back in my head. 

But doctors in the UK decided to finally put a titanium plate where my skull bone was to reduce the risk of infection. This procedure is called cranioplasty. They removed the piece of my skull from my stomach that sits on my bookshelf today. During the titanium cranioplasty, they also placed a cochlear implant inside my ear at the point where the bullet had ruptured my eardrum. My family joined me in the UK so I did physical therapy and Rehabilitation Started the process. I walked slowly, took steps like a child, talked like a child. I felt like I had started another life. 

Six weeks after I first landed on British soil, doctors decided to deal with my paralyzed face. To do this, they cut my face open again and tried to reattach the severed facial veins in the hope that they would eventually grow back and facilitate movement. A few months after surgery and with regular facial massages my balance and movement Little improvement. If I close my lips and smile, I can almost see my old face. When I laughed, I would cover my face with my hands so people wouldn't see that one part of my face wasn't working like the other. I started avoiding looking in the mirror or watching myself on video. . In my mind I thought I looked fine. I accepted the reality and started being happy. 

My parents, on the other hand, wanted a cure for everything their daughter had lost. So we met with surgeons at Mass Eye & Ear in Boston to talk with them about the cross facial nerve graft, a complex treatment for paralyzed faces. I will need two major operations. In 2018 the doctors first removed a vein from my shin and implanted it in my face which moved rapidly from the right side to the left. In 2019 they took tissue from my thigh and implanted it in the left side of my face. They hoped the vein would connect to the tissue and start sending signals to the muscles in my face. 

And it worked. Finally, I was able to move my face more. But the second procedure caused excess fat and mucus to build up around my cheeks and jawline. Then the doctors said I needed another surgery. I woke up at five in the morning on August 9th in Boston to go to the hospital for my new surgery and saw the news that the Taliban had captured Kunduz, Afghanistan's first major city in decline. Was Over the next few days, with ice packs wrapped around my head, I watched on the TV screen as province after province surrendered to people whose guns were as full of bullets as this man's. who targeted me. As soon as I recovered, I called on the Phone She began calling, writing letters to heads of state around the world, and talking to women's rights activists who were still in Afghanistan. Over the past two weeks, we have been able to help many of these workers with their families to safety, but I know we cannot save everyone. 

When the Taliban shot me, journalists in Pakistan and a few international media outlets already knew my name. He knew that for years, I had been speaking out against the extremist ban on girls' education. They reported the attack and people around the world reacted to it. But the reaction could have been different and my story might have ended up on the local news saying, 'Fifteen-year-old girl shot in the head.' Without letters and offers of help, prayers and mentions in the news, I might not have received medical attention Found My parents would certainly not have been able to cover these expenses themselves. Nine years later I am still recovering from just one pill. The people of Afghanistan have taken millions of bullets in the last four decades. My heart breaks for those whose names we will forget or never even recognize, and those who are crying out for help but no one will be there to help them. 

The scars from my recent surgery are fresh. I still have the scar on my back where the doctors took the bullet out of my body. A few days ago I called my best friend, the same girl who sat next to me on the school bus when I was attacked. happenedI asked him to tell me again what happened that day. 

"Did I scream, did I try to run away?" I ask you. 

'No', she said 'you were calm and quiet, you were staring into his eyes as Talib called your name. You held my hand so tightly that I felt pain in it for days. He recognized you and started firing. You covered your face with your hands and tried to bend down. After a second you fell into my lap. 'Two of my classmates Shazia and Kainat were shot in the hand and arm and the white school bus was red with blood. I have one bullet and several operation marks on my body. But there is no memory of that day in my mind but nine years later my best friend still Nightmares ensue.