I am Kainat Riaz, 22 years old, born in Mingora Swat, Pakistan. This is my story – it is one of realisation and reflection, hurt and healing and ultimately challenge and change. On the 9th of October 2012 my life changed in a bang. I was travelling home from school with my other friends Malala YousafZai and Shazia Ramzan, we were chatting casually. Suddenly, the van stopped by two gunmen, a man appeared and shot his gun. I was shot on my right shoulder, Malala and Shazia had been hit too. Weeks followed of stitches and bandages, traumatic nightmares, pain, fear, journalists, police bodyguards, not sleeping, more fear, staying indoors. I remember a journalist asked me, “Kainat, can you describe what happened to you when you were on the way home?” My skin went pale, full of fear and nerve I wondered how to answer the question. What should I say? How can I answer this? The story of my life had changed, it was a story that was hard to tell but now more than ever I had to tell it. I strung some words together, longing for the thoughts and images in my head to end. I wanted to leave the hospital because I was constantly convinced that the man would come again and shoot me. Eventually I went home with my family and stayed indoors having regular visits from the Doctor for more medical treatment. After a month I wanted to go back to school desperately but nobody was happy to take me on this journey anymore. It wasn’t just me that was terrified that I would be shot at again; my family, friends and neighbours also felt at risk. My father supported me, and so every day he came with me the long distance to take me to school. I was still covering my face as girls are not allowed to show their face when they grow up in my culture and I was determined to continue my education this way. However, it was not easy for my Father during this time. I had been shot, but we had all been hurt. I am so thankful for the way he and other people in my life supported me. I kept going to school. I thought things were getting better from then… I was learning and could visit my relatives house if two policemen came with me for safety. Carrying on with life was healthy, my trauma flashbacks were becoming less regular and I stopped constantly worrying that the man would come back. I was wrong. Early one morning there was a bomb blast behind my house. My friend and her Grandmother were killed. I cannot describe the terror I felt, shaking and screaming, I thought it was a nightmare like the others I had been having but I couldn’t wake-up. The terror continued. People in my community were upset and angrier this time. They wanted us to leave because nobody was safe. Where to go? What do we do? How do we leave our hometown? My father reasoned with them somehow, he told them it wasn’t our fault. My family stayed, but I felt so different. I was determined to use my voice, for myself and others who cannot. Eight years ago, I was very shy and quiet in my classroom, with barely enough confidence to talk in front of 32 girls. But that day, after the second bombing, I promised myself that we cannot let the difficult circumstances, all the pain, fear and confusion define us. We have to be strong and speak out. It takes time to heal and process, but I now realise the utmost importance of education and will do all I can to help others access it in Pakistan and all over the world.
The Story of Kainat Riaz
