The Stories of Afghan Girls Forced Into Marriage Under Taliban Rule

Source: Online platforms

She is so young that she still talks about childhood games, former classmates and the schoolbooks that have gathered dust in a corner of her home since schools were closed.

But instead of sitting in a classroom, she now lives in the home of a man who, she says, is more than 40 years old.

Khadija, a 13 year old girl from Nimroz province, spoke to Zan News about her married life, even though she still does not fully understand what marriage means.

“I wanted to go to school and continue my education,” she says.

“But they gave me to this old man. I used to sleep beside my mother at night. Now I am very afraid and cry every night. I never imagined that I would be married off.”

Khadija says the decision about her marriage was made without her consent by men who decided her future for her.

She says that her father, who had been involved in drug trafficking, was forced to agree to her marriage after a dispute arose with a Taliban member.

“I heard that I was given to this Taliban member in exchange for 50 kilograms of opium,” she says.

“I did not understand any of it. I only knew that I could no longer go to school or return to my own home. I no longer have my old life.”

She says she cried for days when she learned about the marriage.

“I still had dolls. I was still playing with the girls in my neighbourhood. I did not understand why I had to become the wife of a old man.”

Khadija’s story is only one among many children who, after being deprived of education, have found themselves facing futures they had no role in choosing.

In Badghis province, Aqlima speaks of dreams that were taken away before she could reach them.

She says she always wanted to become a doctor.

“When the schools were closed, I thought they might reopen after a few months. I kept my books. But instead of schools reopening, they brought me a wedding dress.”

Aqlima says she still knows nothing about married life.

“I am still a child. When I see girls my age studying or playing, I feel that something has been taken away from me.”

In Mazar-e-Sharif, Maryam tells a similar story.

She says that when she walked out of her school for the last time, she never imagined that day would mark the end of her dreams.

“I wanted to become a teacher. I wanted to study. But after sixth grade, I was no longer allowed to go to school. I even tried to fail so I could stay in school longer. I handed in a blank exam paper, but they still passed me. Because I stayed at home, my father married me off. Now nobody asks about my dreams anymore.”

Her voice trembles as she adds:

“No one ever asked me whether I wanted to get married.”

The stories of Khadija, Aqlima and Maryam come at a time when millions of girls in Afghanistan remain deprived of their right to education.

Women’s rights advocates have repeatedly warned that closing schools and universities does not only deny girls an education. It also exposes them to child marriage, forced marriage and complete economic dependence.

In a country where girls are prohibited from continuing their education beyond sixth grade, many families no longer see a future for their daughters in school.

For some families, early marriage has become the alternative to education.

But it is the children who pay the price, children who should still be sitting behind school desks.

At the end of the interview, Khadija falls silent. After a few seconds, she quietly says:

“If school had remained open, maybe I would not be a bride today. Maybe I would not be the wife of a Taliban member. Maybe I would have had a choice.”

A short sentence that may capture the reality of thousands of girls whose childhoods were taken from them after the doors of education were closed.

The names Khadija, Aqlima and Maryam have been changed to protect their identities and safety.