We have come to know them by different names. There was nine-year-old Nujood Ali in 2008, then 10-year-old Arwa in 2009, this year it is eight-year-old Rawan.
All three were child brides in Yemen who were forced to marry much older men. But unlike Arwa and Nujood, who divorced their husbands and have survived their ordeals, Rawan died from injuries following her wedding night with a groom more than 30 years her senior.
There have been contradictory reports on the case of Rawan, who was said to have married a 40-year-old man. Her husband was reported as being from Saudi Arabia. Other reports said he was from Yemen. Officials said Rawan has not died and that she is safe and healthy. Some reports say the whole story was made up.
Whether it is true or not, that is still a grim reality for many young girls in Yemen.
A study by the International Center for Research on Women report that as many as 48.9 per cent of Yemeni females were married before the age of 18.
Global outrage at Rawan’s case has helped revive the debate about the need for legislation to ban such marriages.
Huriya Mashhoor, Yemen’s human rights minister, has formally asked the president of the chamber of deputies to refile the parliamentary bill that will, if approved, set the minimum age of marriage at 18.
Poverty is at the core of this terrible issue. No family would willingly give away their daughter to some decrepit old man unless they were desperate for money to save the family from starvation. Nearly half of the Yemeni population lives below the poverty line. One Yemeni in five is malnourished.
Child brides are found in the world’s poorest countries, like Afghanistan, Sudan, Chad, Niger, Bangladesh and Mali. There are cases of child brides coming out of Syrian refugee camps as well.
But not all sexually exploited children end up as brides. A piece of paper doesn’t mean much at the end of the day. Rape is rape and a grown man taking advantage of a young female is abuse. It doesn’t matter what the premise is.
While I was on a trip to Ukraine more than seven years ago, a child with strawberry blond hair tied in two ponytails approached me and pulled on my jacket as I was making my way out of the airport.
I looked down and saw brown eyes with deep dark circles around them, a quivering mouth that was trying hard to smile as the child kept repeating a sentence to me that I didn’t understand. My Ukrainian friend showed up then and tried to shoo the girl away, but not before explaining to me that the girl was touting herself in return for some money and food.
“She said she would do anything for food, she is very hungry,” translated my friend.
I stared down at this tiny child, who looked six years old but may have been 10. She wore dirty white socks and a mismatched set of clothes that were meant for an older child.
I bought her some food, and left her some money, but as she wolfed down the sandwich, I worried what would happen to this child? Where are her parents?
As I looked around, I could see creepy looking men eyeing up this little broken sparrow. I was sickened to the pit of my stomach and had this sudden urge to punch every one of them.
Human trafficking is one of the biggest problems in Ukraine, which has been dubbed the “sex tourism heaven” of Eastern Europe. From what my friend has told me, it hasn’t got any better in recent times. It is now less blatant and more hidden than it used to be.
That child’s eyes haunt me to this day. I still feel miserable that I wasn’t able to do much for that little girl.
Later, I took her to one of the humanitarian organisations in Ukraine where one of the staff simply nodded and dismissed me abruptly after I signed some papers. It was as if I had dropped off a package instead of an abused child.
There will always be vultures ready to take advantage of children and young women – communities should unite against them.
rghazal@thenational.ae
On Twitter: @arabianmau
