Ali Khan… Dead. Afsha… Dead. Awais… Dead. In the early hours following the APS massacrein Peshawar, hospitals scrambled to put together a list of survivors as well as casualties.
The first twelve names were followed by a list of ‘unknowns.’ First and last names did not matter anymore… nor did other details. People listed were either alive or they were not. Footage soon circulated of children lined up on the floor of the hospital, eyes covered with cotton balls… and white shrouds indelibly painted with patches of red. Outside, loved ones slipped in and out of consciousness, not knowing what to make out of the madness that had descended out of nowhere. Their children had gone off to school to sit for exams, not to fight a battle.
The Blame Game
As is generally the case, the media embarked upon an endless series of speculation. The army blamed the government. The government returned the blame and the entire country wept. Doctors and other medical professionals, who had (through years of practice) already seen and experienced everything imaginable, struggled to cope with the sight of innocent children brutally murdered in broad daylight inside an institution where they had every right to feel safe. They were privy to gruesome details of torture so relentlessly inflicted upon the victims of the massacre.
Answers were sought for all sorts of questions. Loved ones, however, were concerned only with one question: Why?
Their children were never going to return home.
People were quick to hand the victims the title of a martyr – which was, perhaps, a desperate measure to bring on healing and solace… but that title was not something the victims had signed up for. These kids were innocent. Their concerns ranged anywhere from handing their homework on time, concluding their school year on a high note, playing cricket in the streets, and sharing the occasional selfie on social media.
Our World Changed
Hours after the incident, I was walking across the stage to collect my medal for earning an MBA after years of toiling upwards in the night. But in that moment of accomplishment, I sensed no happiness at all. I returned to my seat and fought back tears. The joy I was supposed to feel, that evening, had long evaporated. My heart was in Pakistan, with the mothers and fathers of children who had been senselessly murdered while I had been putting together an outfit to wear to the event. My fellow student, a gentleman from Nigeria, extended his condolences. I thanked him for his support and left soon after, promising myself that something needed to be done – however small – to help these people out.
After putting my kids to sleep, I got in touch with my friend, Zeenia Shaukat, who lives in Pakistan. For years, she has been on the forefront of activism. I knew I could rely on her to help me network with the movers and shakers. She forwarded my name around. It wasn’t long before I received a message from Sheema Ghani – a humanitarian from Karachi. She introduced me to Beena Sarwar and Salman Khalid, who wholeheartedly helped in organizing a support system for students and families affected by the massacre. The ball began to roll.
Meanwhile, I put together a page on Facebook, which I have since renamed ‘Pakistanis Against Terrorism.’ The idea was to have a proper platform where we could collectively raise our voices and gather support for victims’ families as well as the survivors. As a result of our combined efforts, we were able to convince the Pakistani government to send three students to UK for treatment.
A Nation Awakened
Salman Khalid heard that Mr. Ahsan Raza Kazmi – TCF Regional Coordinator (Lahore) – was planning on visiting survivors admitted to hospitals in Peshawar. He asked if he could join him. Mr. Kazmi obliged. Their objective was to check in on the treatment of patients and their families and make sure they were not neglected in any way.
“Once the visit was confirmed, we asked around if anyone wanted to send handmade cards and video messages for these kids,” said Khalid. “We ended up collecting tons of things!”
The duo took along goody bags that included greeting cards, bed sheets, socks, a motivational book titled ‘Shabash! Tum Kar Sakte Ho’ (Yes! You can do anything!). The book’s author, Mr. Qaiser Abbas, had personally signed each copy for the kids.
“We contacted Miss Amna Durrani, a government officer, whose sister was a teacher at the school,” revealed Khalid. “We wanted to reach the maximum number of people in the shortest amount of time.”
Miss Durrani and her sister connected them with the pregnant wife of a martyred security guard. “A sewing machine, a vocational training course and a year’s worth of living and medical expense coverage was arranged for the widow,” shared Khalid. “That way, she could earn a livelihood by tailoring from the comfort of her home.”
No Security Following the APS Massacre
The team found Lady Reading Hospital completely insecure, as compared to the Combined Military Hospital (CMH). “We were able to walk in with our care packages… no one stopped us or checked anything!” exclaimed Khalid. “On the other hand, visitors were barred from visiting CMH. The commanding officer, understanding the fact that we had traveled this far and had good intentions, decided to allow us to visit in our personal capacity. But they did stop us to check our packages in order to uphold security regulations.”
The team tried to bring the security matter to the attention of government officials but no one bothered to take action. Even more appalling was the episode where a local minister walked into the hospital supported with an entourage of forty men. Said Khalid, “We were not allowed to wear street shoes because the hospital was committed to preserving a sterile environment. Yet, these men had the audacity to walk in with muddy shoes. They had a photographer in tow; he would take the minister’s picture with a child and quickly move on to the next child. These men showed absolutely no concern for the wellbeing of the patients or their need for privacy.”
At length, patients’ families started questioning their intentions. “‘Which party do you belong to?’ they would ask,” said Khalid. “These people were fed up with the constant political and media circus. When we assured them we were mere humanitarians, the families would beg us to not leave until we had lunch with them. Pathans are known the world over for their hospitality.”
Tales of Valor
There were tales of bravery too. At one ward, they found a mother and son. She had lost one son to a bullet. Since her other son was in critical condition, she had been instructed by doctors to keep his brother’s death a secret. “The mother would take great pains to dress nicely and even apply make up despite her immeasurable grief… smiling as if everything was okay just so her surviving son would remain convinced that his brother was still alive.”
The team made sure they did not cause any undue disturbance during their visits. Khalid shared “We walked into a ward where the critically injured children were admitted. We didn’t think it appropriate to bother anyone; therefore, we handed the care packages to Miss Durrani so she could distribute them discretely after our visit.”
There was a kid admitted in one of the wards who had been shot in the neck. His speech was severely impacted. He was angry. “He wanted nothing to do with us,” stated Khalid. “We sat a short while and then decided it was time to leave. We showed him his care package. He was uninterested. When we told him there was a book in there too, he suddenly perked up. He asked to read so we handed him the book.”
The team left the hospital. “Before we even hit the highway, we received a text message from him, thanking us for the visit and the book,” smiled Khalid. “He stayed in touch for a long period of time, thereafter. We found these children and their families to be so resilient despite the circumstances. These kids had transformed in such a short amount of time into determined men… determined to get back up on their feet and avenge the deaths of loved ones by bravely returning to the same school and continuing their education.”
Morale Boost
Celebrities, too, were more than willing to reach out to the children. I found myself on an e-mail message group where we interacted with the likes of Samina and Usman Peerzada, Shahvar Ali Khan, Samina Ahmed, and Nadia Jamil. I saw first-hand how concerned they were for the children and how much they were willing to help them.
“Nadia Jamil had sent many motivational messages and videos that she wanted us to show the kids,” revealed Salman Khalid. “At one point, she texted us and said that if we are inside a ward where kids are stable, she could call and speak directly to them.”
The team honored her request. After seeking permission from the kids’ parents, they dialed Miss Jamil’s number. “She spoke to at least four children for a good fifteen minutes each, motivating them to come out of the incident stronger,” smiled Khalid. “The kids were thrilled! I cannot say enough about her genuineness and commitment to helping these children heal. She even intended to visit them in person.”
APS Massacre Survivor Profiles
On January 15, 2015, one of my relative was watching a local channel, in Peshawar, when she saw an interview highlighting APS massacre victims and their families. Muhammad Nawaz and his son, Ahmed, were a few of the people who spoke about their plight.
Ahmed Nawaz had survived the incident but his brother, Harris, was shot in the head and had succumbed to his injuries. My relative got in touch with the program’s producer and eventually connected with Muhammad Nawaz, who invited them to Lady Reading Hospital, Peshawar. One month on, Ahmed Nawaz was still receiving treatment at the hospital. A bullet had severed the nerves in his arm. He would stay up all night, writhing in agony. His parents were, naturally, beside themselves.
While other parents had long buried their children and had begun the heart wrenching process of grief, Muhammad Nawaz and his wife found themselves in limbo, searching desperately for treatment. They had already lost one son. Seeing their surviving son battle such pain was incomprehensible.
I brought his matter to the attention of my team who began the process of finding him the necessary care. Once it was determined that doctors in Pakistan could not treat him, we reached out to the government in a bid to send the boy overseas for care. A month of constant communication and beseeching resulted in Ahmed Nawaz and his family boarding the plane to UK. We could hardly believe the news! Putting all our resources together and constantly knocking on every door imaginable culminated in the boy receiving care at Queen Mary Hospital, Birmingham.
Activism
Although a long road to recovery stretches ahead, I’m proud to say that Ahmed Nawaz has taken the initiative to not dwell on his trauma; rather, he has made every effort, since, to highlight the importance of combating terrorism through education. When he is not in school, he tours educational as well as government institutions and helps people understand that the only way extremism can be eliminated is through making education accessible to all.
There are other tales of valor that are just as heartwarming. A student named Waleed Khan was shot in the face, sustaining a broken jaw. He was one of the students who underwent extensive surgeries overseas. “I am better than before, by the grace of Allah,” responded Khan when I asked him how he was doing. “The APS massacre changed my life, to be honest. But I cannot dwell upon my misery. It’s true, I still need to undergo many surgeries… in a few years, but I have faith that my condition will improve further.”
From the first day I spoke to Khan’s dad over the phone, I found a very hopeful father and son duo that maintained a positive attitude despite their dire circumstances. I remember the father explaining that his son’s injuries were so severe he was unable to eat solid food for months. Every time I begged leave to end the phone call, I heard him utter heartfelt prayers only because I had taken the trouble to check in on his family. His son, Waleed, still displays the same selfless attitude, three years after the APS massacre.
The Massacre’s Youngest Victim
One of the 144 victims, that day, was six-year old Khaula Bibi Shaheed. Her father, Altaf Hussain, was also shot multiple times but survived. He is an English teacher at APS and is barely getting by.
“My right lung is decorticated and not working as it should,” he explained after I probed him a couple of times about his injuries.
He is a proud man who never complains. My family members visited him at Lady Reading Hospital, Peshawar, a day after the attack. He respectfully turned down donations from anyone who tried to hand out anything that they imagined might help ease his life.
“All I need are prayers,” he would insist. Visitors were always taken aback by how grateful he was for the fact that total strangers had taken the time to stop by and check on his wellbeing. Here was a man who was in dire pain, physically as well as emotionally… reeling from the loss of his beloved little girl, unsure whether he would ever fully recover from his injuries. Yet, he was able to smile through the trauma.
Ongoing Pain
Altaf Hussain continues to endure excruciating pain every single day. Doctors in Pakistan have told him there is nothing they can do to heal him. Four of his ribs are broken; two of them are disconnected altogether. He was shot multiple times in the torso. It is impossible for Hussain to sit in a chair because of the pain. Grading papers is a real challenge. Yet, he continues to drag himself to the same school daily.
Hussain thinks about his little girl all the time. “She is my only connection to the school. The blood of my dearest daughter, Khaula Bibi Shaheed, was spilled in the hallways, there. She remains there… she lives on in my heart!”
Khaula Bibi Shaheed was a very bright young girl who was quite mature for her age. Noticing her prowess, the school had bumped her one full academic year ahead. “My sweet little girl… she always did the impossible,” said Hussain. “She excelled in school academically and was very social for her age… Khaula Shaheed was always so helpful and kind. She didn’t care whether the students in need of help were boys or girls. She was always determined to move mountains. She did what could not be done by others.”
One can only imagine how far Khaula Shaheed would’ve gotten in life and how much prosperity she would’ve brought upon her family had she been given the opportunity to live.
I asked Hussain several times if he needed any help, monetary or otherwise. His response: “Even in the early days of losing my child, I asked for nothing but prayers. I still ask for nothing else. I have to live with this physical and emotional pain. Please pray that I stay on the right path and endure my troubles with grace until I am no longer.”
A Reliance on Faith
Hussain is a devout Muslim. His strong faith gives him the power to wake up every morning and face the day. “Faith is integral,” he commented. “In the end, faith is the support system that pulls us through anything and everything.”
He also expressed gratitude to everyone around the globe who extended help in the initial days after the carnage and to those who continue to send him messages of hope. He does not blame the army or the government for any lapses in security. But he does have a question for the West: “Who makes the weapons and supplies them… and why?” he asked boldly.
It is a heavy question but he is entitled to ask it. One should not assume that he does not know the answer. The rhetorical question begs introspection. In his mind, the guns are responsible for the loss of his daughter and the amount of pain inflicted upon him, both physically and emotionally.
“I will remain pro-Pakistan and pro-Army,” insisted Hussain. “Life has become a compromise, that much is true… However, I have faith that there are people at the helm who love our country as much as I do. This incident does not define us and it will certainly not defeat us.”
Lives Forever Changed
“I am still unable to visit CMH, Peshawar… One glance and I’m reminded of that day,” shared Ahmed Qazi.
He is the son of martyred APS Principal, Mrs. Tahira Qazi Shaheed. “I still get shivers thinking about all those dead bodies of children lying on the top floor of OPD block, wearing the same school uniform that I also once wore. The nightmares have not ceased… The details of that day keep me awake at night.”
Mrs. Tahira Qazi hailed from Mardan, Pakistan. She earned a master’s degree in English from the University of Peshawar and had started her teaching career in the 1970s. In a country where most women were denied higher education until much later, she was clearly fearless and ahead of her generation.
On that fateful December day, Mrs. Qazi sacrificed her life defending her students. The attackers had offered to let her go but she refused to turn her back on the innocent lives she was entrusted with the task of protecting. “I am their mother. Talk to me!” witnesses reported her shouting. The terrorists silenced her with a bullet while her students watched in horror. She left behind her husband, two sons (Ahmed and Imran) and a daughter named Arifa.
“I still can’t forget the loneliness my father endured after losing his wife,” revealed Qazi. “The emotional trauma he experienced contributed to a series of health issues.”
Qazi’s father, retired colonel Qazi Zafrullah, passed away two years after the incident.
“I feel angry that I was unable to save her that day,” continued Qazi. “She had to face those cowards alone! There hasn’t been a day since that I haven’t missed her. Whether it was the day of my wedding or situations such as any academic and professional highlights of my life, I feel immense pain when I realize she is not there to celebrate my successes with me. My happiness has been incomplete ever since the day I lost her. She left a void nobody can fill… I hope no one ever endures the sort of pain my family has been subjected to.”
Rising Above the Tragedy
Qazi’s sister, Arifa, too had reached out to me despite herself being in the midst of deep anguish and offered to help affected students and their families. Her courage and determination speaks volumes of her strength of character and has been an unparalleled source of inspiration for me. Judging by how both brother and sister so selflessly came forward to extend support clearly mirrored their mother’s approach to life and death – i.e. to defend the defenseless until the very end without giving so much as a passing thought to their own wellbeing.
Ahmed Qazi spoke highly of his mother. “The values and principles she imparted to us remain with us. Her guidance lives through our actions. I just wish she had lived a little longer so we could somehow pay her back for all the effort she put into raising us. She was a phenomenal mother and a truly brave and exceptional woman.”
The entire nation agrees with that statement. Days after the massacre, one of the conference rooms at the Provincial Assembly Secretariat in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KPK) was named after Mrs. Qazi. To recognize her selflessness and bravery, the government also awarded her the prestigious Sitara-i-Shuja’at – the medal of gallantry.
Although Ahmed Qazi has a strong support system, he admits that moving forward in life has not been easy. “People keep saying time heals wounds but I say that such deep wounds become more and more painful with the passage of time… the reason being that you begin to truly understand the finality and permanence of it all… the fact that no one can replace the love of a parent. I just pray that both of my parents have secured a respectable position with Allah and are living there in peace.”
Ongoing Struggles
The first year following the massacre was marred with the fact that parents refused to send their children to school. There was a clear distrust amongst the masses regarding existing security measures at educational institutions. The nation reeled from the tragedy as people continued to share harrowing tales of attending funerals back to back and witnessing the indescribably agony of mothers and fathers who had lost everything.
In a bid to lure students back, area schools hired additional army security personnel, installed barbwires and raised their boundary walls. “Although children probably derived a sense of security as they witnessed these changes, I’m sure these heightened measures stunted their mental health subconsciously,” admitted Ahmed Qazi. “Unlike the generation before them who had the luxury of playing and moving about freely, these heightened security measures might remind kids that they live in a somewhat combat-prone environment.”
Pakistanis are a resilient nation, however. “It is true… we are a nation of great grief,” added Waleed Khan introspectively. “Yet, our smiles are stronger than their guns.”
Although the overall sentiment amongst survivors is positive, Zahid Ayub Qureshi, another survivor, is less optimistic. “This is our homeland,” he said dejectedly. “Miracles are possible, but not in this country. People like myself cannot afford education. There is no justice, no respect for talent.”
Qureshi is a student at the prestigious Ghulam Ishaq Khan Institute of Engineering Sciences and Technology. He does not qualify for scholarships since he does not belong to the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA).
Said Qureshi, “The annual fee for my university is 7 lacs. My uncle assisted in paying for the first year but my father is poor. We cannot afford further payments.”
That means Qureshi might not be able to complete his engineering degree. Since the massacre, he has lost his mother. He is determined to complete his education and would appreciate help. “KPK government could extend assistance and provide scholarships to students like me who are desperate to change our lives around.”
An Enduring Optimism
Waleed Khan expressed support for students like Qureshi. “Pakistanis are a nation of unparalleled talent,” he stated. “The government should realize the potential of students and provide them the opportunity to further their education. After all, education will play a vital role in rooting out terrorism and bringing peace and prosperity to our nation.”
The Shuhada and Ghazi forum was established in the days following the massacre. However, the forum failed to accomplish the mission it was set up for. Qureshi did not hesitate in criticizing the people managing the forum. “They did nothing for the survivors,” remarked Qureshi.
Aakif Azeem, another survivor, agreed. “The forum was a let down in terms of bringing the right issues to light,” he said. “They should’ve held the government to task… to carry out a comprehensive judicial inquiry into the incident in order to bring the criminals to justice. At the very least, the forum could’ve devised a scholarship program in order to ensure the education of survivors. However, they failed miserably.”
Many across KPK are frustrated with the lack of support from a group that was established with the purpose of helping guide survivors towards some form of relief.
“People are unhappy. A few individuals took control of the forum and hijacked what could’ve been a good thing,” stated Azeem. “In any case, there is no use crying over spilled milk. The only way left to tackle our problems is to educate our youth. They need to feel reassured that they have the power to take Pakistan to a new level.”
Psychological Trauma
Azeem may not have sustained any physical injuries that day but he still suffers from mental anguish and trauma.
“It’s been three years, since… but I have not been able to move past the scars of that day,” he revealed. “I lost so many friends, that day. The memories of helping bury them back to back still haunt me. But, I am fortunate enough to have the love and support of my family and others who believe in me. It fuels my resolve to do something extraordinary with my life!”
Azeem is majoring in Clinical Psychology at Szabist Islamabad. “I did not have access to mental health support but I plan to become the healer,” he said. “I want to remove the stigma associated with mental health.”
Waleed Khan, too, plans to make a difference. “I want to become a humanitarian so I can do everything necessary to help eradicate poverty, terrorism, and economic depression from our society.”
“I feel obligated towards working for the cause which led my mother to sacrifice her life for,” stated Ahmed Qazi. “I wish to help as much as possible in educating the masses in order to promote logical thinking across the board. Education is the only way we can save innocent people from being brainwashed into committing acts of terrorism. If we can accomplish this mission, we can eradicate all traces of extremism so that an incident like this never takes place again.”
A Pledge to Never Forget
Everyone I interviewed expressed gratitude to anyone who would remember the incident. Said Aakif Azeem, “People should remember this incident because the sacrifices of all those lost on December 16, 2014, should never, ever be forgotten.”
Waleed Khan added, “Remembering the APS massacre is important because it is a reminder to the nation that our teachers and friends died in the path of education. They did not die in vain. I hope people will realize the importance of education by never forgetting the sacrifices of those boys and girls, men and women. All of them led by example… and my hope for the nation is that they will do the same. The importance of making education accessible to the masses should never be underestimated.”
Along that note, Ahmed Qazi concluded: “I hope the media can memorialize the incident by producing a documentary series that will bring to focus the heroes who came forward on December 16, 2014 and helped those in need. In a country branded as one that promotes terrorism, it is very important for people to not overlook the sacrifices made that day as well as the days that followed. The world needs to know that we are more than a nation riddled with the problem of extremism. The majority of Pakistanis are dedicated to eradicating all traces of terrorism. The world deserves to witness that!”
Gail M Akeman says
I did not know about his . wow. thanks for the info
Seema Khan says
You’re very welcome!
Belle says
That is such a tragic incident. It’s truly heartbreaking to know what people had gone through.
Belle | One Awesome Momma
Seema Khan says
Thank you for your comment, Belle. People are still suffering. There are kids who are suffering from physical injuries as well as mental anguish but they’re dedicated to their education. My heart goes out to them and I think about them every single day.