inspirational Women of Pakistan

Ayesha Farooq is the first combat ready female fighter pilot in the Pakistani Air Force. She has felt welcomed and encouraged by her squadron in which she is the only female. This is in contrast to the attitude of many of her relatives.

''All too often, we women take our gender as a liability; it is our strength’’ 

Sharmin Obaid Chinoy is a Pakistani film maker who has made various documentaries. Her most recent work, 3 Bahadur, follow three children who save their community from a group of thugs. This film not only makes girls feel empowered, due to the female main character, but also shows the problems people are facing. Her short documentary, Humaira The Dream Catcher, is about a young girl who has set up a school in her village and is educating women about their rights. The negative mindset concerning education of girls seems to be from the men in the village who themselves haven't had much education showing that the root of the problem is lack of resources and illiteracy due to lack of education. The problem is not as black and white as some of the western world may think.

Zahida Zazmi, first female taxi driver in Pakistan. She has been a taxi driver since she became a widow with 7 children to care for. At first she kept a gun in the car and wore a burqa to feel safe. However once she was well-established she did neither and the reaction of police at chekpoints in rural, tribal areas such as the Swat Valley has been one of curiosity and amazement rather than negativity. She makes passengers of both genders feel secure and relaxed.

‘‘I am old but my courage is young’’

Pakistan is a country that receives mainly bad press. True it has a long way to go in terms of social change and getting rid of corruption. However with so much negativity in the news we often forget the good. Things are not as black and white as they seem and the stereotype of Pakistan being a backwards country in terms of rights for women, corruption, and men's attitudes is a stereotype which shouldn't determine how we think about this country. There is much more to it than that. it is complex and beautiful and women are not the only ones in Pakistan fighting for change and equality.

Poem - Books

I can take you on a journey to a world so enticing you can't put me down.
I can touch your heart, make you laugh or cry
I can inspire and make your imagination run wild
I am full of knowledge and stories so precious
So don't ignore me

Poem- The beach

Waves crash against the rocks peeping out of the sea.
A boat bobs up and down by them, twirling round every so often.
The voices of young children mingle with the cries of birds.
A group of young boys laugh as they run towards the waves then dive into them.
A bird lands on the beach, casting an inquisitive at his surroundings.
Young children greet the tourists, asking them questions.
What´s your name? Where do you come from?

A new adventure

Go on a journey, I dare you.
Challenge yourself to do something new even if it scares you.
You never know what you may find found the corner.
Take a path different to those already travelled.
Or better still, create a new one.
Go on a journey, I dare you.
You may surprise yourself.

Extract from Book- 'A Study of A Girl'

Extract from Book

Quiet, peaceful, the fields stretch out into the horizon. The sun sends rays of warmth down onto the backs of the laughing group of people playing tag. One of the adults is it. He waits, looking round at the rest of the group. Everyone is smiling, wondering who he will go for. He lingers for a few more seconds. Suddenly he lunges for the little girl who runs as fast as she can. She looks over her shoulder. He is catching up. Laughing, the girl tries to run faster but he is too fast for her. He catches up to her, grabs her, and lifts her up. She is laughing as he puts her down.

She hears a shout. She thinks it’s just a dream and lays her head onto the pillow. She wakes. Something is wrong. She walks into the dining room, a sinking feeling in her stomach. That shout was not a dream. She finds out the news. She cannot cry even though she wants to. Her heart refuses to accept it yet her mind tells her she must.

She moves among people like a ghost. She is present yet not really there. On the face of it everything seems normal. Her mannerisms remain unchanged. Her friends notice some difference yet not enough to be worried about her. Yet though she seems engaged with the world around her, inside is a different story. She feels more distant from her friends than she has ever felt before. She feels she is slowly drifting away from everyone and everything. She wants to scream, to hit something; she wants to release all these negative feelings but she can’t. Something is stopping her. Every time she feels she will open up, an invisible barrier appears. She can’t get the right words out. Her friend says something that makes her laugh. She pushes her negative feelings to one side. She wants to be happy. She wants to forget. But then the feelings come back stronger. They build up every time she tries to push them away. She feels guilt. She is supposed to be able to tell her best friend, whom she has told everything in the past, but she can’t tell her what is eating her up inside. She can’t tell those closest to her how she feels but it is not supposed to be like that. She feels like she is pushing people away when she shouldn’t be. She should be doing the opposite. She is a prisoner of her own grief; trapped with no way out. She doesn’t feel completely herself anymore. She feels like a stranger. She wants to escape these feelings. She needs to find a way to escape this prison. She closes her eyes and imagines . . .

This is an extract from my book I was writing for NaNoWriMon which I unfortunately couldn't finish be cause life decided to get in my way. Hopefully I will be able to finish it over the christmas holidays and edit it. 

The Prisoner (poem)

A prisoner sits waiting in a small damp cell, with nothing but darkness and rats fro company.
His heart is cold, with nothing left inside.
He has committed no crime, yet must pay for someone else's actions.
He waits for death to come and take him, who he shall welcome with all his empty heart.

The Hooded Stranger

 The smoke from the burning incense danced around the objects sitting on the shelves. A pair of small eyes watched me as I walked along the creaking floorboards of the old shop; there were objects of all sorts scattered around the shelves-some sat in corners gathering dust, and there were some objects whose beauty wasn’t apparent when looked at from a distance, but, on closer inspection, one could see that they had been made with love. But they all had something in common. It felt like each object had their own story and each felt like they had, somehow, been special to someone. This was one of the reasons my love for this shop was so strong.

But it wasn't the only reason. It was one of the few places where I felt calm and at peace. Somewhere I could gather my thoughts, away from the noise and chaos surrounding the streets. Recently, I had been coming here more often. Ever since I first saw the shop a couple of years ago I felt drawn to it and since then I had been returning regularly. But in the last few weeks the attraction had become stronger.

As I glanced at the street, I saw a hooded figure standing on the opposite side. Inexplicably I felt a chill creep over me. I couldn’t see the stranger’s face, but I knew he was watching me closely. He was wearing old and tattered clothes, and his cloak was dark and worn. He didn't seem like he was from around this part of the town. My heart started to beat faster and I forced myself to calm down. Questions were flooding into my mind: who was he? Why is he watching me? Does he know me, and if so, how? I looked away from him for a split second, took a deep breath then looked back. He had disappeared.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had stepped out into the street looking for the stranger. Stalls full of bright jewellery and scarfs lined the street, shopkeepers called to me, inviting me in to see what they had to offer, young children ran along the street chasing each other, flashing bright smiles at me as they passed. In the distance I could hear drums and people singing. Suddenly I saw the hooded figure disappear down a dark alleyway slightly ahead of me. I was filled with excitement and fear. But nonetheless a small voice inside me urged me to turn back. I knew nothing of the stranger-I could be getting myself into danger if I followed him. But my curiosity diminished the small voice of reason inside my head. The danger thrilled me. I was stepping into the unknown. But there was something else I was dimly aware of. When I had first seen him I had felt a pull towards him. It was the same attraction I felt towards the shop. I wanted to know why.

I hurried down the alleyway, excitement building up inside me. I ignored the sea of rats crawling over my shoes and the smell of sewage. I followed the stranger into a small square and paused as he slipped into a inn ahead of me. I took note of my surroundings-just in case.The houses looked run down and old, this was obviously one of the poorer areas of town. The only noise was the sound of water trickling out of a fountain in the middle of the square. As I watched the light dance on the surface of the water I began to feel a bit drowsy. I tried to force it away but I couldn’t control it. The last thing I saw before sleep took me was a figure coming towards me.

                                                                                *****

Blurred figures moving ahead of me. The buzz of conversation surrounding me. Someone touches my arm but I am unable to focus. I want to shout, to scream, to get up and run. More shouts nearby. They move further, and further, and further away. My mind slipsaway from my surroundings as I close my eyes once again.