Chapters 18 and 19 PDF

# 18 ## A Humble Request and a Strange Peace - Mango Seed = hope - peace Swat was finally at peace. The army remained, but the shops reopened, women walked freely in the markets - and I beat Malka-e-Noor for first place! I felt so hopeful about the future of my valley that I planted a mango seed o...

# 18 ## A Humble Request and a Strange Peace - Mango Seed = hope - peace Swat was finally at peace. The army remained, but the shops reopened, women walked freely in the markets - and I beat Malka-e-Noor for first place! I felt so hopeful about the future of my valley that I planted a mango seed outside our house. I knew it would take a long time for the seed to bear fruit, like the reconciliation and rebuilding the government had promised, but it was my way of saying I was full of hope for a long and peaceful future in Mingora. One of my biggest worries in those days was that around the time I turned thirteen, I stopped growing. Whereas before, I was one of the tallest girls in my class, now I was among the smallest. So I had a humble request. Every night I prayed to Allah to make me taller, then I measured myself on my bedroom wall with a ruler and pencil. And every morning I would stand against it to check if I had grown. I even promised that if I could grow just a tiny bit taller - even an inch - I would offer a hundred rakat naft, extra prayers on top of my daily ones. # 19 ## Good News at Last One day in October 2011 my father called me over to show me an e-mail he'd received. I could scarcely believe what it said: I had been nominated for the international peace prize of Kids Rights, a children's advocacy group based in Amsterdam. My name had been put forward by Archbishop Desmond Tutu from South Africa, one of my father's greatest heroes because of his fight against apartheid. Then another e-mail arrived: I was invited to speak at a conference on education in Lahore. The chief minister there was starting a new network of schools; all the children would receive laptop computers. He was awarding cash prizes to children all over his province who did well in their exams. And to my surprise, he was also giving me an award for my campaign for girls' rights. I wore my favorite pink shalwar kamiz to the event and decided that I would tell everyone about how my friends and I in the girls' high school had defied the Taliban edict and continued going to school secretly. I wanted children everywhere to appreciate their education, so I said I now knew firsthand the suffering of millions of children who are deprived of an education. "But," I told the audience, "the girls of Swat were and are not afraid of anyone." I had been home barely a week when one of my friends burst into class one day and announced that I'd won another prize. The government had awarded me Pakistan's first National Peace Prize. I couldn't believe it. So many journalists descended on our school that day it was a madhouse. I still hadn't grown an inch by the date of the award ceremony, but I was determined to be seen as authoritative nonetheless. When the prime minister presented me with the award, I presented him with a list of demands - including a request that he rebuild the schools destroyed by Fazlullah and that the government establish a girls' university in Swat. That sealed my determination to become a politician - so I could take action and not just ask for help from others. When it was announced that the prize would be awarded annually and be named the Malala Prize in my honor, I noticed a frown on my father's face. In our country's tradition, we don't honor people in this way while they are alive, only after they have died. He was a bit superstitious and thought it was a bad omen. My brothers, of course, kept me humble. They still fought with me and teased me and wrestled with me for the TV remote. I may have been getting attention from around the world, but I was still the same old Malala to them. I wondered, though, how my friends would take to all this publicity. We were a very competitive group, after all. And, of course, there were always Moniba's feelings to consider. I worried that she'd think I'd abandoned her during my travels - or that she had taken up with a new best friend. But there was no time to think about this on my first day back at school. When I arrived, I was told there was a group of journalists waiting to interview me. When I entered the room, I saw all my school friends gathered round a cake, shouting, "Surprise!" They had taken up a collection and bought a white chocolate cake with a description icing that read SUCCESS FOREVER. My dear friends, they were as generous as could be and only wanted to share in my success. I knew in my heart that any one of us could have achieved what I had; I was lucky that I had parents who encouraged me despite the fear we all felt. "Now you can get back to your schoolwork," Madam Maryam said as we finished our cake. "Exams in March!"