Ripple Effects of Poverty: Child Marriage
Photo by Dick Scholten on Pexels by Grace Anaja Child marriage is a plague that affects millions of girls all around the world. The United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) describes child marriage as ‘any formal marriage or informal union between a child under the age of 18 and an adult or another child.’ In developing countries like Niger, Nigeria, and Central African Republic, 36% of girls are married before age 18, and 10% are married before age 15. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights also states that marriage must be entered by individuals who are fully consenting and at full age. Child marriage is an outright violation of their rights, especially with girls: it prevents them from being educated and empowered, growing up with their peers, maturing in their own time, and ultimately choosing their own life partners when they want to. It hinders them from achieving their goals and potential. In most parts of the world, child marriage is mainly driven by poverty. Girls are said to be ‘expensive’ to raise. Parents from low-income and rural communities who do not understand the value of education and empowerment and still hold on to patriarchal beliefs do not regard girl child education. For some, an educated boy child is more valuable and worth their investment. Since they cannot afford school fees or materials in cases where free education is available, they marry the girls off as adolescents. To them, this reduces the number of ‘mouths to feed’. Out–of–school girls have a higher chance of becoming child brides. Marrying these girls to wealthy or comfortable men who, most of the time, are much, much older would mean less financial pressure on the family and an avenue for provision… a way out of lack. These girls have been turned to ‘Poverty Alleviation Projects’ for their families. Sometimes, the girls are indirectly forced to get married when their parents neglect them. They believe having a husband means they would be catered for and their needs would be met. Certain people believe that child marriage ensures a girl’s virginity and prevents promiscuity, unwanted pregnancies, and diseases. However, child marriage has many health risks for the girl child. These include sexually transmitted diseases like Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) and Human Papilloma Virus (HPV), cervical cancer, miscarriages, death during childbirth, premature birth of offspring, obstetric fistula – which, according to the World Health Organisation, is an abnormal opening between a woman’s genital tract and her urinary tract or rectum, and could lead to maternal mortality. It can be prevented by delaying the age of the first pregnancy. Child marriage is a form of gender-based violence that exposes young girls to various forms: physical, sexual, psychological, verbal, and socioeconomic violence. These child brides move from home after marriage and usually live in isolation, especially for those who move to a new location. The opportunity to grow, play, have friends, and build social skills is lost. Because the men that marry them are older, they have little to nothing in common and are only concerned about household responsibilities. They are thrust into wifely duties and motherhood so early that they barely know what they are doing. When they give birth, it is practically a child having a child. Due to their low level of education, they are concentrated in the service industries doing menial, nonessential and domestic work, with little possibility for a chance at more. It is said that if you educate a man, you educate an individual. But if you educate a woman, you educate a nation. When young girls cannot pursue education, it limits women’s potential to contribute to national development. It denies them access to opportunities, resources, and mainstream governance: benefits and responsibilities. It sustains the already established patriarchal system that so desperately needs to end. Child marriage does not end the vicious cycle of poverty. It only strengthens it. If poverty was eradicated or reduced, would families and societies place more value on girls and women?
When No One Is Looking
Photo by Gantas Vaičiulėnas from Pexels As long as I can remember, I have always cared about the issues that affect Africa, Africans and people of African dissent, with special focus on how these issues affect women and children. Even as a child in primary school, I can remember expressing anger at people who treated women and children poorly and standing up for the girls in my class. It would not be far-fetched to assume I was born this way, having what can be described as a gnawing need to lend my voice to women and children’s issues. I was probably around 10 years old when I learned about basic human rights and the government’s role in protecting them. Without meaning to, that became my Bible and code of conduct. I started creating content from a very young age. I wrote stories and school plays that centered women and children in roles that were not usually associated with their sex or age. These stories became church dramas because for most of my teenage years, I found expression in the church. Granted, most of what I created then was quite gruff and had a diamond-in-the-rough kind of feel but a central theme shone through all my pieces: women and children were human in themselves and needed to be treated with the full respect accorded to them by their basic rights. I remember a play I wrote that we performed in church. It started with the parents of the lead character – a young teen – finding out that she was pregnant. Rather than be judgmental, it promoted allowing yourself to be hurt if your child gets pregnant ‘out of wedlock’ but, loving (and supporting) the child regardless. It showed that children were themselves overwhelmed by the consequences of their actions and beating them or kicking them out of the house was not a fair way to handle the issue. This play connected so well with people that the way teen pregnancies were handled – a problem that was predominant in the community where the church was situated – became markedly different. It was for this openness that I was chosen when I was about 14 years to be part of a peer-education capacity building session on complete sexuality education. This opened my mind’s eye to the Millennium Development Goals and a world bigger than the things my environment had constrained it to. I began to actively promote these goals because I was: unhappy that the world didn’t take the eradication of extreme poverty and hunger as seriously as it should; wondering what could be done to achieve universal primary education; sure I needed to actively promote the idea of gender equality and the need to empower women; broken at the rate of child and maternal mortality and wondering how I could help; hated all discriminatory acts to people living with HIV/AIDS in a world where it was okay to do so; didn’t want anyone to die from Malaria or any other disease that could easily be prevented with small lifestyle changes; and, hated that our environment was gradually becoming dirty and unsustainable as a result of poor sanitation due to reduced enforcement of communal environmental protection activities. These issues became my issues. They mattered to me. And I wanted to do something about them. As I grew from teenager to young adult, I began to refine the areas that I was interested in. While I wanted to work in the field to directly help women and children, I knew it was cost heavy and living on the poverty line myself at that time, I didn’t think there was much I could do to help these people. So, I chose a path that centered more on creating content that could cause a mind shift in the general public and change behaviors that put women in boxes marked, ‘second class citizens’. I continued to write stories and plays for church, making sure to include the women empowerment nuggets in the overall message of the Christian faith. With the advent of social media, I found a bigger outlet for my work…especially as I was questioning faith and removing myself from the church. I began to share my views – my very gruff and many times, antagonistic views – on my social media platforms. A friend told me about blogs and the possibilities they held for massive, and maybe even global, reach. So, I learned about this new frontier of communication and started my blog: Shades of Us. I continued to evolve as a person, finding more perspectives to human rights and seeking even more succinct ways to communicate my ideas around them. When I heard the word ‘feminist’ during Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TedX Talk – We Should All Be Feminists – I knew this was the word that perfectly described exactly who I was and the issues that mattered to me. So here I was: Ramatu Ada Ochekliye, creating content around the Sustainable Development Goals and hoping I could change the world with my words. But, reality check. The world really doesn’t want to be changed. If the world has its way, it will continue to be patriarchal, misogynistic and abusive to women and children. It would continue to express hate against people whose sexuality is different from the accepted norm. It would continue to be intolerant of people’s rights to association, religion, belief and dignity. This is why, my work – and the work of other feminists, human rights activists and advocates, and anyone who just believes in the basic rights of all human beings across the world – can be really tasking. Nobody tells you that it is easier to maintain the status quo, as oppressive as it is, than it is changing anything. And because of this, many activists suffer the painful burnout that comes with wondering if their work even means anything. Oh! There are many reasons to keep
The Child Labor Dilemma
📷: Fortune I have always been against children working; and by working, I don’t mean house chores. I believe that children shouldn’t have to hustle or work for the upkeep of their families. I want a world where children are allowed to have their childhood, to go through the motions of finding themselves, to have puppy love and then formulate principles for their adulthood. This is because ‘adulting’ is hard and a lifetime work. I want children to enjoy their childhood before adulthood comes a-knocking. But in the last few weeks, I have been having some dilemma about this view. I met two young brothers aged 14 and 12. I will call them John and Doe. Their parents are what you will tag as below-average Nigerians. They are not exactly pit-poor but life is hard for them. Their mother is a food vendor while their father works for a cross-country transportation agency as a driver. John and Doe attend a State-owned secondary school and from their speech, I know the school isn’t doing much good for them. Their school has the Day and Afternoon style popular among state-owned schools. What this means is that John goes to school in the morning from 8am to about 1pm while Doe goes to school from 1pm to about 5pm. This schedule changes every two weeks, allowing the boys to switch sessions. I was told that they went to an ageing man who lives alone and offered their services to him; sweeping the compound and fetching water. They did this on their own, without being forced by their parents or even asked to do so. The old man accepted their offer and from what I gathered, is paying them a reasonable sum of money. All they have to do is sweep his compound daily and fetch water once every week. When John has to be in school in the morning, Doe does the work and when Doe goes to school in the morning, John does the work. I asked John about his family and he explained all these to me. I asked if they shared the money they made when the other is off to school and John told me that they gave whatever they made to their mother who in turn bought things for them. Here is my dilemma. Nigeria has adopted the International Labor Standards on Child Labor which allows the minimum age for employment or work to be at 15 (or 13 for light work). Doe is 12 so already he doesn’t fit into the law and though John is covered by the law, I am still worried. Yes, the work they are doing is light work and it isn’t much different from what any kid their age does at home. And yes, they went to seek out employment by themselves and are not in any way forced to do the job and their work in no way affects their schooling but….I am worried. If I have my way, no kid will work until they are 15 and even at that, it would be very light work. This is the reason why I wrote the article, CHILDREN SHOULD NOT HUSTLE. In fact, I abhor child labor so much that I don’t buy anything from child hawkers. This may seem mean but I believe if we all did the same, parents would have no other option than to keep their children at home and away from the dangers of hawking. I know the situation can best be described as ‘lose-lose’ but I really don’t like children hustling. Whichever path I choose, I always end up feeling guilty. But these kids have chosen to work to help augment what their parents are bringing in and with the current state of the Nigerian economy, every extra Naira goes a long way in helping their family. So my question is, what do you think I should do? Should I say something to the man, which may be the right thing to do but knowing that it may mean these boys suffer in this harsh economy or should I remain quiet, knowing that they are being treated fairly by their employer and their family definitely needs the extra cash? So over to you…if you were me, what would you do?
Children Should Not Hustle!
Young girl hawking sachet water.Image: The Guardian The little girl ran up to me, somehow balancing the crate of boiled eggs on her head and trying to keep her falling wrapper in place. Her feet were clad with slippers that were well worn and designed with holes. She couldn’t have been more than eight years old and as she reached me, the smell of her unwashed body repulsed me more than she could have imagined. As she raised her head to ask if I wanted the eggs, I had a full view of her face. She was made up, with a haphazard line taking center stage on her brows. Her eye pencil was dripping, making her lower lid look heavy. Her powder was in patches, with more shades of grey on her dark skin than there was on a wiped chalkboard. Her pouty lips were made more so with the red lipstick she wore and the very black liner she used to line her lips. She was wearing a torn Hijab made of a print material. The Hijab was bunched at her shoulders as she held the tray that held the crate. Her skirt was a different print from her top though they were similar in one way; they were both threadbare, dirty and reflected just how poor she was. I took all these in as she advertised her eggs. The makeup, dirty clothes, torn slippers and the over coat of unwashed funk all reflected one thing: poverty. In one glance, I could tell that this young girl was forced into child labor. It didn’t take Einstein to figure out that this little girl was doing this to make money for her family. She was probably going to walk up and down the town in her quest to sell the eggs. The more eggs she sold, the more likely her chances of eating something that night. If she returned the eggs home, she was most likely going to sleep hungry. As I continued to look at her, imaginations of how hungry she might be kept flicking through my mind. Though her smell repulsed me, I was drawn to her in a way that was against my personal principle. I was torn. A common sight in many African communities if the presence of child hawkers who are working to sustain their families.Image: Signal You see, when I was in primary school, I had a teacher called Mrs. Williams. She died. But before she did, she had imparted so much in me that I owe some of my life’s principles to her. She urged us always to be the best and always had little quips that stayed with us; with me. On one of such occasions, after a field trip to the airport, she said something that stayed with me till this very moment. As the school bus slowed at a traffic jam, some children ran up to it to display their wares. From candy popularly called ‘alewa’ to groundnuts and what not, these kids had enough to attract our attention. Many kids started pulling out their lunch money to get things and only refrained when Mrs. Williams bellowed. Thankfully, the traffic jam lessened and we got going. That was not before we saw the disappointed looks on the faces of the children as they saw us go. We had been their hope for some money but Mrs. Williams crushed that hope. I was, for the first time in my young life, furious at her. When we got to school, I was still furious. As we settled into our seats in class, Mrs. Williams demanded our attention. When she got it, she started teaching us about child labor and abuse. She told us it was wrong to send kids to the streets to hawk. She asked how we felt knowing our mates were hawking on the streets and highways when we were in class, learning and getting an education. In truth, we didn’t understand what she was saying – we were just in primary three – but the passion with which she spoke hit me. The message I got that day was that children shouldn’t work when they should be in school. As little as I was, I felt bad that I could afford to be in school while others were out there fending for themselves and their families. I really cannot remember if that was when I made the choice to never buy something from a kid but I know that as I grew up, my resolve strengthened. My ideology was that, as long as we buy things from kids, we were also promoting child labor. I felt that if children went home every night without selling anything, then their parents would be wise about sending them to the streets. At that time, all of these made great sense to me. As I grew older, I realized that the ideology I had was hard to keep, especially as child labor came closer to home. A close friend of mine, whom I will call Williams, had to work to make ends meet. Williams came from a comfortable family. He had two brothers and one sister. They had most of what they wanted. They ate right, dressed well and even went to good private schools. The fairy bubble burst when his father lost his job after the Kaduna textiles closed down. They were tiding over until they just couldn’t keep up the pretext anymore. They had to move to a much smaller house and even sell most of their stuff. After a while, his father travelled to find work and was not heard from for months. They had absolutely no idea where he was or even if he was alive. His mum had to pick up the mantle of leadership to keep the family going. She got a job working as a cleaner in a school where the pay was barely enough to cover utility bills. Gradually, they had to be pulled
