I am a citizen journalist primarily concerned with use of FoI as a tool to make authorities accountable and I will be presenting all my requests here with commentary on institutions.

Dedication: To Zainab, the first time after gaining consciousness and of all first memories, I believe my first emotional attachment was Zainab. As such, I am naming and dedicating this list over to her and wish to take this opportunity to recall some of my memories. I believe the oldest of my younghood memories date back to Girls Government High School Murala. There were two branches there (I do not recall much of the older one and how my mother shifted the branch to one closest to our house), at that time my father used to live overseas and I had rather lived in much middle class conditions. At that time my mother had to take me to the school with her since I and her used to live alone at the house and town was (still is!) a lot rural. During teaching, my mother had to ask some girl to volunteer in patrolling me (I was mischievous when young ...), Zainab volunteered to do this. For the first reason, she was Afghanistani, an illegal alien here, other girls used to have multiple stereotypes of her. For the second, she chose to alienate herself when she feared people have steorotypes of her, so she cannot talk to them. I clearly remember her before my mother distinguishing to me right from the wrong. This will remain my motivation for posting such requests here, but also in hope that wherever she is, that she has found happiness in her life... She and her sisters used to make frocks while they had an elder brother who worked at a farm (Their father was shot and killed by Taliban when they fled Afghanistan and illegaly entered Pakistan). Tragically, her brother was one day working on a tractor and it had malfunction, he asked someone to drive it and stepped down to inspect the tire, the tractor worked, he died under it, losing his life.
She did not come school for a month, I individually moved on forgetting her, but she returned to our home a month later. She explained all this to my mom, she... she cried and screamed. I was hiding behind the room watching her, I saw someone breaking down, I saw all the embodiment of torture. I do not know if she is deported, alive or dead... but I hope whatever aftermath she had, that she found rest and a peaceful sigh. I want her to know that if my life is a byproduct personality shaped by someone, it has to be her. I dedicate this section of internet to you, if I try to seperate right from the wrong and show it, your name should be on that fabric.

Before listing anything, I want to be quick to note: institutions are made of paper, but justice is about people. Every organization must report transparency and held accountability.