5/27/20

Human’s Tribune

Volume 1

Issue 13

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Life Today




Yes, humanity’s still here. We’ve just been away for some months, watching The Office and stress-baking. Even though humans are stuck at home, we’re all doing the same things.





Book Review: Maybe He Just Likes You





By Antoinette Durand




Maybe He Just Likes You tells the story of Mila, a seventh grader. She plays the trumpet and wonders about the odd E-Motions building. She has good friends. Mila also has a problem. It started with a group birthday hug. Then, little touches in the hall. They’re everywhere. The boys who touch her are everywhere. Maybe He Just Likes You tells the story of self empowerment through exercise and friendship. It not only talks about sexual harassment, it gives the details of how it effects the victims's life, how it effects her family and her friends, most of all, her. How Mila feels is a lesson to us all. "Maybe he just likes you" is a great book for both boys and girls.





This book is about sexual harassment, so it may make you feel uncomfortable at parts. Making you feel uncomfortable is a part of its purpose, so I suggest that you power through.





Malala Yousafzai





By: Antoinette Durand




NOTE: This article is written in first person so you can more easily step in her shoes. Just imagine you were her.





“I raise up my voice- not so I can shout, but so that those without a voice can be heard..” - Malala Yousafzai





Hi! I’m Malala Yousafzai. I was born on July 12, 1997 in Mingora, Pakistan. Usually, when a Pakistani girl is born no one cares, but when a Pakistani boy is born, there is a huge celebration. My birth was not like that. Instead, my name was added to our family tree among all of my male relatives. Ziauddin Yousafzai, my


dad, put my name on our family tree. It was the first female name in over 300 years to be added to our family tree.





My dad was principal of a school. I was lucky that he believed in girl’s education because not many girls in my culture go to school ever. Instead, girls stay home in perdah. Perdah is a rule in the Islam religion where women must cover themselves in public. From a young age, I never wanted to be stuck in purdah. Even teenagers that used to play with me when they were young vanished under veils.





One day, I was taking out the garbage. I saw two young children trying to find something valuable in a large heap of garbage so they could sell it. They couldn’t go to school because they had to support their family. I knew that no one should ever have to do this. From then on, I've tried to help children like them.






One fateful day, I was trying to do dishes in the kitchen. Then, I heard an odd weeping sound. It was a group of women, including my mother, listening to a radio mullah (an informal name for a religious leader*). He was saying that music, dancing, and movies were harams, or forbidden by Islam. My dad did some research. He found out that the man behind the radio was named Maulana Fazlullah.





Fazlullah joined forces with the Pakistani Taliban. The Taliban are a group of people that are terrorists. Soon after that, there were terrorists in Pakistan. The Taliban enforced some horrible rules, like women couldn't go in public places, and if someone disobeyed, they would be killed. My dad spoke out, and received a threatening letter from the Pakistani Taliban. Then, some hopeful news came. Benazir Bhutto, (The first female Prime Minister of Pakistan) returned for the next election in Pakistan, but as soon as that good news came, it was gone. Two months later, Ms. Bhutto was shot dead. Unfortunately, it only got worse. Soon bombs were a part of normal life, but the worst of it came in 2008. The Taliban said that after January 15th, 2008, no girl could go to school. Before the upcoming January 15th deadline, I was chosen to write a blog for the BBC website. I was under the false name of Gul Makai (means cornflower), but my dad accidentally gave away my secret identity. The day was here. The last day of school. The deadline was here. Girls’ schools were closed. A while later, girls were allowed to go to school, but only for girls k- 4th grade. I was in 5th grade, but I could easily pass as a fourth grader. My teacher said that we could come to school if we dared. She would be waiting for us. Then, a bit of good news came. There was a peace treaty signed between the Pakistan government and the Taliban. Even stranger, all girl’s schools were open, but that happiness did not last long. Soon after, a war came, and our city was going to be in the middle of it. There was only one thing left to do: leave our home.





We spent so much time away, and when we came back, things we're not at all okay. Our home wasn't destroyed, but my dad’s School was a mess. There were the remains of someone's dinner littering the floor. There was a letter on my dad's desk that said that the war was the people's fault. It wasn't fair.





The date was October 9th, 2012. It wasn't an abnormal day. I had an exam that day. My day passed in a blur. Soon enough, it was time to go home from school. I was taking the bus home. We were going down the road and then suddenly, the bus stopped. The last thing I remembered was the crack crack crack of three bullets. After that, everything changed.





October 16th, 2012, I woke from a coma. Once I found out I had been shot, I recovered in a hospital in Birmingham, England. I heard people speaking English. I could speak English, too. My tries were in vain, because there was a tube down my mouth that snatched my voice. Instead of speaking, I wrote what I needed to say. The hospital arranged a call with my family. He said it would be two days before my family arrived in Birmingham. Two days grew to four. In total, it took sixteen days before I was reunited with my parents and my two brothers, Atal and Khushal. The day that I was released from the hospital, I went home somewhere new. Not Pakistan, not the Mountain Village where my relatives lived. Instead, I went to a brick house in Birmingham. I was happy and sad all at the same time. I knew it was too dangerous for me to go back to Pakistan for a long time.





Now I help children with the Malala Fund. The Malala fund donates money to children so they can get an education.





*According to I Am Malala by Malala Yousafzai