This article is supported by the Asia Pacific Forum on Women, Law, and Development (APWLD) as part of the Media and Visual Journalism Fellowship on Militarism, Peace, and Women’s Human Rights. 

Balochistan, Pakistan— A crowd of men encircled her, requesting a selfie after the protest ended. In a conservative community where the presence of a woman on social media is as defiant as their presence in public spaces, no man will spare the opportunity to pose with her for their socials. One after the other, they wrapped a shawl or a chaddar around her — a gesture to pay respect. Often, it is the black Balochi chadar with yellow, black, red, and blue stripes, a symbol of Baloch resistance.

“That’s how it is,” she said with a smile as I waited for her, but another group demanded, “Just one more picture!”

For her, these protests are routine. But it was the first time she had found herself surrounded by a crowd eager for selfies at the Eid protest. And why wouldn’t they? She’s the indomitable Sammi Deen Baloch who led the historic months-long Baloch march.

Sammi, 26, has been involved in activism for many years, organizing and attending protests at the Karachi Press Club, a key location for media coverage and public demonstrations in Pakistan. When girls and women prepare for Eid by putting henna on their hands, visiting the parlor, and deciding which dresses to wear, Sammi prepares to protest. Her activism has turned her into a household name, but all she yearns for is an end to her and thousands of families’ anguish. Sammi was just ten years old when her father, a doctor, went “missing,” and since then, her life has been a journey to seek justice.

Balochistan, Pakistan’s largest province, has been embroiled in an insurgency since the early 2000s that started because of the Baloch community’s long-standing socioeconomic grievances with the Pakistani state. The Pakistani military is accused of abducting thousands of political workers, students, journalists, and activists as a counter-insurgency policy in the province; anyone remotely suspected of being linked with militants is at risk of being whisked away.

According to the Voice for Baloch Missing Persons (VBMP), there are more than 5,000 missing persons in Balochistan today. Enforced disappearances are a widespread issue in Pakistan, affecting not only Balochistan but also other regions. Activists, journalists, and political workers often become targets. 

Sammi’s father, Dr. Deen Muhamad Baloch, is one of the thousands. He was affiliated with the Balochistan National Movement (BNM), a pro-independence party now banned in Pakistan. “At the time of his abduction, BNM was not banned, nor was he involved in any anti-state activities,” Sammi said. “He was a political worker—is that a crime?”

On June 28, 2009, Sammi’s father was abducted from a government hospital in Ornach, Balochistan, where he was on duty.

Being plunged into pitch darkness is how Sammi describes the languishing uncertainty that victim families face. “The certainty of dawn makes the darkness bearable, but suppose one was not certain dawn would come. How will one bear the darkness then?” she asked.

In her struggle, spanning more than a decade, there have been moments where Sammi’s family would be given fake news of her father’s recovery to deter her from continuing her activism. When this happened, her family would ‘cry tears of happiness’ and ‘distribute sweets’ only to once again go through the pain and trauma when they realized the news was fake.

Sammi’s father was her greatest supporter. He often envisioned a future where Sammi and her siblings would grow up to serve their community.“When I was a child, my father would say he wished to see me become a politician like Benazir Bhutto [the first woman prime minister of Pakistan],” she said with a nostalgic smile. “It was his wish to be a voice for his people.”

Sammi’s search for her father has led her to devote her life to honoring her father’s wish. She has given the mothers, sisters, daughters, and wives who are forced to protest on the roads and who have nowhere else to go a space where they can share their pain.

“They didn’t just take our father from us, but our happiness and our lives,” Sammi said. “They took away our childhoods and right to live a normal life. Above all, you become disconnected from your existence. Now, I am Sammi, the daughter of Dr. Muhammad Deen Baloch, who has been missing for 14 years.”

Last year, Sammi finished her undergraduate studies but missed her convocation as she was in Islamabad, once again leading a protest against enforced disappearances and extrajudicial killings. Sammi aspires to become a filmmaker or journalist, but she says it is challenging to start a career while constantly on the road.

“To find your loved ones, you have to kill your own identity, and this disconnectivity from yourself starts haunting you gradually,” she said. “I kept appearing in front of courts and commissions. I joined marches and protests with other families,” Through these attempts to find answers, Sammi felt like she was doing something for her father and others. 

In 2013, prominent Baloch human rights activist Mama Qadeer led a historic march with a dozen families of missing persons. Her son, Jalil Reiki, went missing in 2010, and his mutilated body was found in 2012. The group marched on foot from Quetta to Karachi and then from Karachi to Islamabad to protest against enforced disappearances. The march became known as the “Long March,” lasting 106 days. Despite the significance of this march, it did not receive the national attention it deserved from the mainstream media or state institutions.

When the Long March happened, Sammi was a teenage girl living in her hometown, where there was no internet access. Due to the lack of TV coverage, Sammi didn't hear about the march right away, but as soon as the news reached her, she knew she had to join the marchers.

“I was supposed to appear for my 10th-grade board examinations that year,” said Sammi. “Everyone told me to appear for the exams, but I argued that I could sit for the exams next year. The march was important; it was a glimmer of hope for me,”

At an age when some girls dream of fairytales, Sammi marched for months on foot in search of her father. “It was very tough. Our heels were covered in blisters, the weather was harsh, and we didn’t have a place to stay during the nights,” she shared, adding that her childhood health complications also contributed to the challenges.

But no pain was greater than the anguish of not knowing where her father was, so she persisted.

When Sammi returned from the Long March, she didn’t have news of her father, but she had gained something: a spark to be an activist — not only for her father’s sake but for all missing persons.

In 2014, Sammi’s family was forcefully displaced by state officials from Mashkai to Karachi, and she fully embraced her role as an activist. Engaging in activism and representing families made her feel like she was honoring her father’s memory.

“My father is an honest, straightforward person who detests hypocrites. He bravely played a leading role in fighting against inequalities, injustices, and deprivation for the Baloch people and against sardars, tribal chiefs, in our area who abuse their powers,” Sammi recalled with a smile, adding that he took his medical profession as an obligation to serve his people. As a patriotic person, her father taught them from childhood to be mindful of the sufferings of those around them.

“He would go in the middle of the night to treat patients, even when he didn’t have a government-sponsored car or driver. He’d drive on his own to treat patients at all hours in remote areas,”

Despite the many obstacles—including threats to her relatives, her phone being hacked, and her family being forced to leave their home due to constant fake charges, raids, and brief abductions of relatives—Sammi remained steadfast.

In 2016, aged 17, Sammi was forcibly disappeared by the Pakistani intelligence agency and held in detention in Quetta, the capital of Balochistan, for seven days. During her arrest, Sammi was subjected to threats and abuse. Her uncle and cousins, who had been abducted multiple times, were all released with the same warning: Ask Sammi to be silent, or the family will face the consequences. Her male relatives continue to be regularly harassed and receive interrogative calls about her—where she is, what she is doing, and who she is in contact with.

In 2022, when the Sindh police attacked and arrested Baloch protestors during a protest in Karachi, specific instructions were given to arrest Sammi: “Arrest this girl because she pretends to be a leader.”

Like a true leader, Sammi views these attempts to silence her as a victory. “It shows that the state is angry because our activism is peaceful, and they’re unable to break us despite using all tactics,” she said.

When Sammi came into a leading position as an activist, becoming the General Secretary of Voice for Baloch Missing Persons, other victim families started seeing a ray of hope in her. “I tell myself that even if I am tired, I have to continue my fight for them. We feel each other’s pain, and that is what brings us together,”

For Sammi, the glimmer of hope for her father’s return remains undeterred by the deafening silence of nearly a decade. To this day, hope persists, and Sammi says she will continue demanding justice—even if she doesn’t receive a response and government officials ignore her.

“It is this small hope that is still alive somewhere in our hearts that keeps us going after all these years,” said Sammi. “We do not know where they are, what condition they are in, or have any news, but we hold onto the hope that they are alive and will return. We will use every means possible to seek justice, even if it is not served to us.”