Marriage is not always what women want in rural Lebanon
I am Lebanese, originally from the north of the country. My parents and I have lived in the capital Beirut all our life. We have rarely visited the remote areas. Lebanon is a small country, yet a diverse one. People here are very different from each other and generally different groups don’t mix well.
Recently, I was on assignment for World Vision to Jarmishe, situated in the Bekaa area where I discovered a forgotten world in the mountains of Lebanon. I saw vast agricultural plains surrounded by breathtaking mountains known as the eastern and western chains of Lebanese mountains. I was amazed at both the beauty of nature and the enormity of the place.
The road leading to Jarmishe is very narrow. The beautiful panorama and tall green trees on the way were mesmerising. Amidst the plains reside tribes called the ‘Arabs of Jarmishe’. They came from Syria, which borders Lebanon, hundreds of years ago and settled in the Bekaa area.
The small unpaved streets and houses spread on the sides of the road bathed in sunshine is a quaint picture. Yet, the Arabs of Jarmishe live a harsh life. Agriculture is the only source of income for most of the families. And since growing fruits and vegetables alone does not provide enough income, both women and men strive hard to provide for their family. Often the price they have to pay and the sacrifice they have to make are huge.
“In summer, in the planting season, I go with my husband every dawn to work in the fields. We need to earn a living,” says 20-year-old Noor, a mother who lives in Jarmishe.
“I leave the house and take my three babies with me to the field, where I set up a small textile tent for them to sleep in. Meanwhile, I grow vegetables such as zucchini, tomatoes and cucumbers. When night falls and it is no longer hot, I get the children back home,” adds Noor.
Despite the difficult living conditions, parents tend to push their girls, like Noor, to marry at an early age, regardless of what the girl wants. For Noor and many other girls living in rural communities, their culture imposes early marriage for young girls.
“Come and see my baby Rama”, said Noor with great enthusiasm, inviting us to enter her house. Her ‘home’ is a nine-metre square shack, with an iron roof, and a diesel heater.
On the ground amidst seats all around the room, new-born baby Rama sleeps wrapped in a blanket. And there, in the privacy of her house, Noor speaks out about her life, her husband Hassan and her in-laws.
In all that she said, and didn’t say, I was able to see Noor’s frustration at her life. The life she is leading is not the one she wanted. Yet, the choice is not hers. The choice was made for her by her parents and the wider society. Lebanese girls, particularly in rural areas, don’t go against their parents’ decision. Women are given little or no choice in their marriage partners and men run their households.
“Sometimes when my in-laws are home and available, I leave the children at their house and they take care of them”, explains Noor about the few occasions when she has time for herself.
“I wish I didn’t get married four years ago [age 16] and had stayed at my parents’ house; we used to lead a better life,” said Noor with great sorrow.
I left Jarmishe pondering over women’s lives in Lebanon. I wonder if I had been born and raised in Jarmishe, what would have happened, and would my life have been similar to Noor’s? Maybe a woman’s culture, education and the principles upon which she is raised are the elements that shape one’s life. Thus, it would have been evident that my life would have been similar to Noor’s if I had received the same education she had, and lived in the same surroundings.
Today, I celebrate my femininity and my independence, having in mind and heart the women of my country, and the women of the world.
-Ends-
Recently, I was on assignment for World Vision to Jarmishe, situated in the Bekaa area where I discovered a forgotten world in the mountains of Lebanon. I saw vast agricultural plains surrounded by breathtaking mountains known as the eastern and western chains of Lebanese mountains. I was amazed at both the beauty of nature and the enormity of the place.
The road leading to Jarmishe is very narrow. The beautiful panorama and tall green trees on the way were mesmerising. Amidst the plains reside tribes called the ‘Arabs of Jarmishe’. They came from Syria, which borders Lebanon, hundreds of years ago and settled in the Bekaa area.
The small unpaved streets and houses spread on the sides of the road bathed in sunshine is a quaint picture. Yet, the Arabs of Jarmishe live a harsh life. Agriculture is the only source of income for most of the families. And since growing fruits and vegetables alone does not provide enough income, both women and men strive hard to provide for their family. Often the price they have to pay and the sacrifice they have to make are huge.
“In summer, in the planting season, I go with my husband every dawn to work in the fields. We need to earn a living,” says 20-year-old Noor, a mother who lives in Jarmishe.
“I leave the house and take my three babies with me to the field, where I set up a small textile tent for them to sleep in. Meanwhile, I grow vegetables such as zucchini, tomatoes and cucumbers. When night falls and it is no longer hot, I get the children back home,” adds Noor.
Despite the difficult living conditions, parents tend to push their girls, like Noor, to marry at an early age, regardless of what the girl wants. For Noor and many other girls living in rural communities, their culture imposes early marriage for young girls.
“Come and see my baby Rama”, said Noor with great enthusiasm, inviting us to enter her house. Her ‘home’ is a nine-metre square shack, with an iron roof, and a diesel heater.
On the ground amidst seats all around the room, new-born baby Rama sleeps wrapped in a blanket. And there, in the privacy of her house, Noor speaks out about her life, her husband Hassan and her in-laws.
In all that she said, and didn’t say, I was able to see Noor’s frustration at her life. The life she is leading is not the one she wanted. Yet, the choice is not hers. The choice was made for her by her parents and the wider society. Lebanese girls, particularly in rural areas, don’t go against their parents’ decision. Women are given little or no choice in their marriage partners and men run their households.
“Sometimes when my in-laws are home and available, I leave the children at their house and they take care of them”, explains Noor about the few occasions when she has time for herself.
“I wish I didn’t get married four years ago [age 16] and had stayed at my parents’ house; we used to lead a better life,” said Noor with great sorrow.
I left Jarmishe pondering over women’s lives in Lebanon. I wonder if I had been born and raised in Jarmishe, what would have happened, and would my life have been similar to Noor’s? Maybe a woman’s culture, education and the principles upon which she is raised are the elements that shape one’s life. Thus, it would have been evident that my life would have been similar to Noor’s if I had received the same education she had, and lived in the same surroundings.
Today, I celebrate my femininity and my independence, having in mind and heart the women of my country, and the women of the world.
-Ends-
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