Written by Arzo Gardizi, Human Rights Activist For three years now, we have been waking up each morning to the image of locked school gates, and going to sleep each night with the memory of the cries of “Bread, Work, Freedom” that once filled the streets.

On one hot summer day, after a difficult school exam, I returned home. My father called everyone and, with a voice full of concern, asked us to get ready to leave. The war in the north had intensified and the sound of clashes had filled everywhere with fear and horror. People were leaving their homes one by one to save their lives.