Lara Zuberi's Blog - Posts Tagged "pakistan"
Pakistan and Polio..a sad co-existence
5 women, 3 of them teenagers, were killed in Pakistan yesterday. What was their sin? They were angels delivering polio drops to innocent children, so that they may be spared a life of handicap. Pakistan is among three countries in the world where Polio is still a reality, 56 cases have been diagnosed in 2012. If no action is taken, it may soon become the only nation on the globe where a preventable cause of paralysis is permitted to prevail.
This post is dedicated to Mamoon Sahab who was afflicted with Polio in his childhood and lived his life with utmost dignity and resilience.
This post is dedicated to Mamoon Sahab who was afflicted with Polio in his childhood and lived his life with utmost dignity and resilience.
A New Country
Growing up in Pakistan, neither had I ever looked upon politics as a friend-nor had I particularly looked upon it as a foe. As a child, I found myself bored when dinners inevitably concluded in political discussions that I barely understood. I vaguely followed the unwritten rule of refraining from broaching with friends what was controversial. When I entered my twenties, I found my country's every corner and every street painted with such loud political color, that indifference became an impossibility.
I became then what almost every thinking Pakistani became: angry about poverty and illiteracy; critical about corruption; sad about the loss of innocent lives, and hopeless about the future. Moving away from Pakistan did nothing to change these sentiments, other than adding to them a dimension of helplessness.
Today, on the eve of election day, I am feeling something-may be it's just a flicker in the dark, may be it's merely a pin drop in the silence-perhaps it's only the beginning of a long, uneven road-but I can't help clinging on to it-an emerging hope within me that when I wake up tomorrow, there will be born a new country-Aik Naya Pakistan.
I became then what almost every thinking Pakistani became: angry about poverty and illiteracy; critical about corruption; sad about the loss of innocent lives, and hopeless about the future. Moving away from Pakistan did nothing to change these sentiments, other than adding to them a dimension of helplessness.
Today, on the eve of election day, I am feeling something-may be it's just a flicker in the dark, may be it's merely a pin drop in the silence-perhaps it's only the beginning of a long, uneven road-but I can't help clinging on to it-an emerging hope within me that when I wake up tomorrow, there will be born a new country-Aik Naya Pakistan.
A Letter of Apology to Malala
My earlier blog post Nov 2012 reflecting on the shooting:
On my way to work I pass the school zone and I sometimes frown when I am obligated to drive at 20 mph. Occasionally the school bus appears before me with the unmistakable stop sign projecting from its side forcing me to halt my car, thus allowing several children to safely cross the street.
Does it make me a few minutes late for work? Perhaps.
Does it make me secure that in this part of the world, cars will stop for my son when he is old enough to cross the road? Certainly.
Does my heart bleed for Malala Yousufzai when I think about how we fail to protect our children in Pakistan as they commute to seek their rightful gift of education? Every day.
Today, reflections on Malala's UN speech and it's aftermath:
Dear Malala,
When you took a bullet to your head, I prayed for you all night-that you live a long life-for who you are, and for the voice of girls' education that you have become- not only for Pakistan, but for the world.
You were flown to England, where you had life-saving brain surgery, and after the Almighty, I thanked in my heart all the dedicated physicians who cared for you then. Despite experiencing trauma of such magnitude, your courageous steps did not falter, and you continued to fight for education and peace. Last week, your speech at the United Nations on your sixteenth birthday was articulate, moving and a shining example of utmost resilience. You showed the world a much needed positive side of Pakistan, specially when you said that you do not even hate the person who tried to kill you.
For all that you said, I am proud.
A lot of speculation has emerged following the speech: "Why didn't she mention the drones?", "It's all a political stunt," "She is a CIA agent," "It was a rubber bullet," "She is receiving 5 star treatment of a royal princess while others in Pakistan suffer," "She is being called a hero while our real heroes like Edhi are not valued," to mention a few.
For all that they said, I am appalled.
Keep your head high, and tell them that no one would agree to be shot in the head to pull a political stunt; no one would choose a facial droop in exchange for fame or a british education. Tell them that you love Pakistan so much more than they do, for you are the one who has given the ultimate sacrifice. Ask them not to compare you with Sattar Edhi-he is a hero in all of our eyes, but they forget that you are sixteen. You hope to live long, so you can become Sattar Edhi, if only they will let you.
I am sorry that your own countrymen malign you while the world celebrates you;
I am sorry that we have lost the ability to recognize a gem when it is among us;
I am sorry that this bullet of negativity has been so wrongly directed towards you;
I am sorry that you survived a gun shot, yet we strive to kill you with our words.
On my way to work I pass the school zone and I sometimes frown when I am obligated to drive at 20 mph. Occasionally the school bus appears before me with the unmistakable stop sign projecting from its side forcing me to halt my car, thus allowing several children to safely cross the street.
Does it make me a few minutes late for work? Perhaps.
Does it make me secure that in this part of the world, cars will stop for my son when he is old enough to cross the road? Certainly.
Does my heart bleed for Malala Yousufzai when I think about how we fail to protect our children in Pakistan as they commute to seek their rightful gift of education? Every day.
Today, reflections on Malala's UN speech and it's aftermath:
Dear Malala,
When you took a bullet to your head, I prayed for you all night-that you live a long life-for who you are, and for the voice of girls' education that you have become- not only for Pakistan, but for the world.
You were flown to England, where you had life-saving brain surgery, and after the Almighty, I thanked in my heart all the dedicated physicians who cared for you then. Despite experiencing trauma of such magnitude, your courageous steps did not falter, and you continued to fight for education and peace. Last week, your speech at the United Nations on your sixteenth birthday was articulate, moving and a shining example of utmost resilience. You showed the world a much needed positive side of Pakistan, specially when you said that you do not even hate the person who tried to kill you.
For all that you said, I am proud.
A lot of speculation has emerged following the speech: "Why didn't she mention the drones?", "It's all a political stunt," "She is a CIA agent," "It was a rubber bullet," "She is receiving 5 star treatment of a royal princess while others in Pakistan suffer," "She is being called a hero while our real heroes like Edhi are not valued," to mention a few.
For all that they said, I am appalled.
Keep your head high, and tell them that no one would agree to be shot in the head to pull a political stunt; no one would choose a facial droop in exchange for fame or a british education. Tell them that you love Pakistan so much more than they do, for you are the one who has given the ultimate sacrifice. Ask them not to compare you with Sattar Edhi-he is a hero in all of our eyes, but they forget that you are sixteen. You hope to live long, so you can become Sattar Edhi, if only they will let you.
I am sorry that your own countrymen malign you while the world celebrates you;
I am sorry that we have lost the ability to recognize a gem when it is among us;
I am sorry that this bullet of negativity has been so wrongly directed towards you;
I am sorry that you survived a gun shot, yet we strive to kill you with our words.
