Buds that Never Become Flowers

In Afghanistan, simply being a woman is enough to confine you in your home, invisible and forgotten, the main reason for your existence to bear children. Because of your gender, you are restricted by religion, culture and tradition. You are weak and vulnerable, unable to make decisions because you are seen as unwise. Socio-cultural beliefs cast education as unnecessary or even hazardous for women, further preventing you from attending school.

Discrimination against girl children is widespread here. Boys can go to school and get an education, but girls cannot because they don’t have money, or their families won't allow them because they don’t want girls to be educated and they don’t think that girls have the right to attend school.

In rural areas, 90 per cent of women cannot read or write. The high level of illiteracy among rural adults remains an obstacle to children's access to school and their retention of information. Many adults still don't understand the value of education, especially for girls. This has been and will continue to be the narrative in Afghanistan unless civil society, NGOs and global authorities provide a platform for women to make their voices heard.

Ghoncha (a name meaning “flower bud” in the local language) and her five daughters are victims of gender. They live in Badghis province, which UNICEF has named the second worst in terms of primary school attendance for girls. In Badghis, only 2 per cent of women are literate, and over 60 per cent are married before the age of 18.

Ghoncha was only 14 years old when she went to her husband’s house to start a new life full of challenges. Like many other Afghan girls, she was married without her own permission. Her husband thought that no one should see his wife and daughters except for him. He believed that women belonged within the four walls of the home. Having a baby boy would have honored Ghoncha's husband, but the couple's first three children were girls, which, in his eyes, didn't amount to much more than three extra mouths to feed.

“It was my fate. I closed my eyes and accepted the reality of life.”

Ghoncha says, “I was pregnant [with] my fourth baby when I heard that my husband had married our neighbour’s daughter.” Though she is 32 years old, she seems almost too shy to speak. Life became dark for Ghoncha. Was it her fault that she couldn't bear a boy? She wanted to leave her husband's house, but what kind of remedy would that be for an injured heart? What would happen to the girls without their mother? “I didn’t have any way,” she said, looking tired. “It was my fate. I closed my eyes and accepted the reality of life.”

Everyone was surprised when Ghoncha gave birth to her fourth child, a boy. But she was too late; her husband had already re-married. “When I understood I [had given birth to a boy], I found myself the unluckiest woman in the world. Why shouldn't I have had this boy in my second or third pregnancy?”

Today, Ghoncha has four daughters: Shakiba, 15; Shakila, 14; Nabila, 10; Khorshid, 6, and two sons: Shahrokh, 9, and Shahrzad, 4. Only her eldest son attends school. “My husband didn’t allow my daughters to go to school. He says, ‘why should girls go to school?’” Ghoncha speaks with some effort, her voice tight. “I can’t do anything, I just watch and keep all of my sadness inside.”

“If someone comes to our home they run to the kitchen and don’t come to say hello.”

Shakila, the second eldest of the girls, is even more shy than her mother. She looks at the floor and offers short replies, playing with the corner of her scarf. “I would like to go to school, but my father doesn’t allow me to go.” Ghoncha says that all of her daughters are shy and have low self-confidence: “If someone comes to our home they run to the kitchen and don’t come to say hello.”

The girls' main responsibilities are chores such as cleaning, washing, and ironing. They have only ever seen pen and notebook in their brother’s hand, because he is the only person in their family who is allowed to go to school. Shakila says that she sometimes asks to borrow Shahrokh's school supplies to practise writing, but he tells her, “You make my notebook dirty, you can't write.”

All of Ghoncha’s daughters have the right to an education and would love to attend school, but due to misconceptions and popular views that education is unnecessary for girls, they are discouraged. Education has the potential to bring women's and men's rights onto equal ground, contribute toward peace in the country, and increase child well-being as well as family income. As humans we all have the same rights.

World Vision Afghanistan has made some significant strides in education since 2001, but in many ways things still remain extremely difficult for girls in this country, especially in areas such as Badghis province. We are continuing our work through new education projects and partnerships with Government and different NGOs. The aim of WVA is to make the right to education a reality for everyone, especially girls like Ghoncha's daughters, whose capacity and potential are so much greater than their opportunities.