NOT BRIDES
BY HANNAH WHITE
L
alander Village is situated in the Char
Asiab Valley, a rural area south of
Kabul, on the road to Kandahar. The
village is surrounded by dusty hills, whose
lines and form please the eye. Rocky outcrops lining the way to the village, beautiful
in their austerity, still bear the scars of battles fought some twenty years ago. The road
had been used by mujahedeen (guerilla-style
combatants), fighting the Russians.
“When you get to Lalander you can see
it was bombed relentlessly by the Russians,
time and time again, even after there was
nothing left to bomb,” Greg Mortenson
remembers.
Sun-faded posters designed to help children identify and avoid landmines are plastered on several of the buildings. White Vs
— reminders of the unseen danger, dormant
but still deadly, all around the village — are
painted on boulders in every direction, marking the locations of now-neutralized mines.
This is where Saida grew up.
Like that of the village itself, Saida’s story
is one of adversity. As a little girl she wanted
nothing more than to go to school. She told
Greg Mortenson this when he visited the village in 2005, fearlessly tugging on his shalwar
kameez (a traditional shirt and trouser outfit) to get his attention. But her father Faizel
wouldn’t allow it and told her school was no
place for girls.
At the time, Lalander had no proper
school. But a jirga (community meeting) had
been called and village elders asked CAI to
FALL 2015
help them build one. While the school was
under construction, Saida would daydream
about her three brothers leaving for school
and working on their homework. She was
envious of their good fortune.
But Saida would have no cause to be envious, as misfortune after misfortune struck
her family. All three of Saida’s brothers died
unexpectedly — one boy was killed in a car
accident; another contracted an infectious
disease, likely typhoid, and passed away; and
her oldest brother, Gul Marjan, was just 14
years old when he stepped on a landmine
while herding goats.
The family’s world was turned upside
down.
And though the deaths were devastating,
some good did come from it.
Committed to saving other families from
experiencing such grief, Faizel sought out
training and began work as a de-miner. And
Saida, with her father’s blessing and a scholarship from CAI, was able to go to school.
She took to her studies with the eagerness
of a girl who realized the opportunity she
had been given. An avid student, she moved
to Kabul after fifth grade to live with relatives
and attend middle school.
Then, when she was just 15 years old, Saida
caught the eye of a prominent police commander. He demanded Saida marry his son.
The man had money, a house, and influence, so Faizel felt he could not refuse. Saida
was pulled out of school, sequestered in her
new husband’s family compound, and denied
access to much of the outside world.
The girl, who once bravely confronted a
foreign man to plead for an education, was
summarily silenced and locked away, with
no hope of continuing her education.
This is the reality for many girls. Married
at a young age, they are completely reliant
on the sentiments and goodwill of their new
family. All too often, their wedding day signals the death of their education.
Early marriage is an epidemic in the
region where CAI works. According to
UNICEF, 21 percent of Pakistani women
are married by the time they turn 18. In
Afghanistan, that number is even higher at
40 percent. Sadly, some young women, like
Saida, become child brides long before their
eighteenth birthday. Sometimes they are as
young as 6 years old.
These girls and young women, barred
from education, will never know their true
potential.
The only way to end the vicious cycle of
inequality is to change the sentiments surrounding women’s education. Only when
societies realize the great harm they do
by restricting women’s access to knowledge, will there be meaningful, sustainable
change.
“It is our duty to make sure that other
girls do not suffer the same fate as Saida,”
said Jim Thaden, CAI executive director.
“She could have been a doctor, a judge, or
a politician. She could have changed the
world. Now we’ll never know.” n
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