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"I Am Malala" by Malala Yousafzai, Prologue–Part One

Thu Jul 23 10:23:43 EDT 2015
By Vocabulary.com (NY)Visual Thesaurus Moderator
An ordinary Pakistani girl is shot by the Taliban while fighting for her right to an education. Co-written with Patricia McCormick, in this memoir, Malala Yousafzai, the youngest winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, tells her story.

Here are links to our lists for the book: Prologue–Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four–Epilogue
fateful
But to me, they are reminders of the life I loved and the girl I was — before I left home that fateful day.
banter
All this banter nearly made me late, and I raced out the door, my half-eaten breakfast still on the table.
rickshaw
Haji Baba Road was a jumble of brightly colored rickshaws, women in flowing robes, men on scooters, honking and zigzagging through the traffic.
reprimand
But he didn’t raise his voice or scold me. He knew I was being so hard on myself already that he had no need to reprimand me.
pacifist
Malala's father is gentle and educated, so his choice of a pacifist as a hero is not surprising. What makes him different from many Pakistani fathers is his recognition that all heroes started out as children who made mistakes, so all children, including daughters, can grow up to be heroes who make a difference.
Heroes like Mahatma Gandhi, the great pacifist, and Mohammad Ali Jinnah, the founder of Pakistan.
hospitality
That’s because one of the most important parts of the Pashtunwali code is hospitality. As a Pashtun, you always open your door to a visitor.
veranda
My mother and the women would gather on our veranda at the back of the house and cook and laugh and talk about new clothes, jewelry, and other ladies in the neighborhood, while my father and the men would sit in the men’s guest room and drink tea and talk politics.
devout
My mother, who is quite devout and traditional, was shocked.
melancholy
It was beautiful, and also a bit melancholy for me to see the pretty kites sputter to the ground.
inscribe
When a boy is born in Pakistan, it’s cause for celebration. Guns are fired in the air. Gifts are placed in the baby’s cot. And the boy’s name is inscribed on the family tree.
illiterate
It is not at all uncommon for women in my country to be illiterate, but to see my mother, a proud and intelligent woman, struggle to read the prices in the bazaar was an unspoken sadness for both of us, I think.
vulnerable
The whole country was in shock for a long time after the earthquake. We were vulnerable. Which made it that much easier for someone with bad intentions to use a nation’s fear for his gain.
blasphemy
“I am representing good Muslims,” the mufti said. “And we all think your girls’ high school is a blasphemy. You should close it. Teenage girls should not be going to school. They should be in purdah.”
pious
“I’d heard you were not a pious man,” the man said to my father. “But there are Qurans here in your home.”
madrasa
I had studied the Quran, our holy book, since I was five; and my parents sent me to a madrasa for religious studies in the afternoons when school finished.

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