How young Nigerian women in arranged ‘money marriages’ are getting a new start

|
Ogar Monday
Abatang Favour addresses young women enrolled in Her Voice Foundation’s Empower Project in Becheve, Nigeria.
  • Quick Read
  • Deep Read ( 5 Min. )

At age 7, Atumoga Rose was abandoned by her parents in the compound of an older man from their Becheve tribal community in southeastern Nigeria’s remote Cross River state.

From that day, the two were considered married, and their sexual relationship began when Ms. Rose was about 14. She later discovered that when her mother was pregnant with her, her parents had received yams, a goat, and some money from the man.

Why We Wrote This

A story focused on

Early marriage can perpetuate a cycle of poverty among Nigerian girls. One nonprofit helps young brides and widows work toward self-sufficiency.

Holding back tears, she says, “I was the payment.”

Now a widow in her mid-20s, Ms. Rose struggles to meet the basic needs of her two children with her meager income from a small plot of community land. “That’s about to change,” she says, her conviction accentuated by the clicking noise of her sewing machine.

Ms. Rose was among the most recent participants in the Empower Project, an initiative of Her Voice Foundation to help women who were wed in the illegal yet long-standing money marriage custom practiced by the Becheve people. Over four months, each cohort of women enrolled in the project learns skills such as tailoring or hairdressing.

Atumoga Rose and three other young women are seated at sewing machines in a mud-walled shop with reams of scrap fabric strewn about the floor. They are working through basic sewing patterns under the watchful eyes of an older woman they call Auntie. As Ms. Rose slides a piece of fabric away from her machine using a pair of scissors, she flaunts her stitchwork to Auntie like a trophy. “I’ll be perfect soon,” she says with pride, while the other young women laugh in solidarity.

Afterward, Ms. Rose recounts her ordeal as a “money marriage” bride. At age 7, she was abandoned by her parents in the compound of an older man from their Becheve tribal community in southeastern Nigeria’s remote Cross River state. From that day, the two were considered married, and their sexual relationship began when Ms. Rose was about 14. She later discovered that when her mother was pregnant with her, her parents had received yams, a goat, and some money from the man.

Holding back tears, she says, “I was the payment.”

Why We Wrote This

A story focused on

Early marriage can perpetuate a cycle of poverty among Nigerian girls. One nonprofit helps young brides and widows work toward self-sufficiency.

Now a widow in her mid-20s, Ms. Rose struggles to meet the basic needs of her two children with her meager income from a small plot of community land. “Every morning, I wake up worried about feeding my children and where to beg for help, but that’s about to change,” she says, her conviction accentuated by the clicking noise of her sewing machine.

Ms. Rose was among the most recent participants in the Empower Project, an initiative of Her Voice Foundation to help women who were wed in the illegal yet long-standing money marriage custom practiced by the Becheve people. Over four months, each cohort of women enrolled in the project learns skills such as tailoring or hairdressing.

“We choose in-demand skills to ensure continuous patronage and self-sufficiency,” explains Abatang Favour, who started the nonprofit foundation.

A tradition rooted in poverty

The Becheve people reside in 17 villages in the local district of Obanliku in Cross River state. Generations of Becheve girls have been used as collateral for loans or payment for debts in what are known as “money marriages.” Poverty is often cited as the primary driver behind the practice. More than 87 million Nigerians, or about 39% of the country, live below the poverty line.

Nigeria’s federal Child Rights Act of 2003 bans marriages under age 18, but not all states have adopted it or enforce it. While 44% of Nigerian girls are married before age 18, it is unknown exactly how many of them are in money marriages, because such unions don’t involve legal documentation. The prevalence of early marriage in the country overall allows money marriages among the Becheve community, often involving very young girls, to fly under the radar.

Ogar Monday
A young woman enrolled in the Empower Project tries her hand at sewing as her friends watch in Becheve, Nigeria.

Most of the girls don’t attend school and will bear children when they reach their teens. Even those who attend school usually end their studies early. Nigeria’s government estimates that 10% to 15% of the country’s 10 million out-of-school girls left school because of pregnancy.

Sunday Ichile, a traditional ruler in Becheve, says organizations such as Her Voice Foundation have guided the community to ban the arrangement of new money marriages and to impose punishments on offenders. But he adds that “Traditions take a long time to die.”

Mr. Ichile and other local rulers are revered as custodians of tribal cultures and traditions in Nigeria, and their decisions command respect in the community. Last year, with support from the United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women, Ms. Favour and her team held a town hall meeting with such rulers to raise awareness of the harms of money marriage. Although community leaders have urged the wives to return to their parental homes, most would not be welcome there because they lack resources to contribute to the household. The young women fear starting over with nothing.

“It’s like being lost in the bush,” says Akem Augustina, who trained with the Empower Project to become a hairstylist. “You must learn to do everything yourself.”

“I cannot remarry in the community, and I am seen as the property of my husband’s family,” she adds. After her husband died three years ago, Ms. Augustina became dependent on her brother-in-law for survival.

An activist by chance

In 2020, Ms. Favour was a university undergraduate on a holiday visit to her home district of Obanliku, which includes Becheve. She noticed many teen mothers at the clinic where her aunt, a nurse, worked.

“I asked questions, went to schools in the community, asked what was happening to girls,” Ms. Favour says. She found that not only were many girls dropping out because of pregnancy, but also “There was a poverty cycle that was being perpetrated due to this.”

Back on her university campus, Ms. Favour assembled five volunteers. “I told myself that even if it was just one girl I helped get back on track, that it would mean something,” she says.

The group supported teen mothers with counseling after receiving buy-in from community leaders in Obanliku. The team also spread its campaigns to high schools, educating students about the challenges of teen pregnancy. Ms. Favour leveraged social media to raise support for about 50 teen girls to go back to school.

While talking more with the teen mothers, Ms. Favour discovered that some of the pregnant girls, even those as young as 14 years old, had been sold off to older men for marriage. Ms. Favour’s group again promptly began campaigns within the community, winning the support of traditional rulers.

The team presented arguments for keeping girls in school, highlighting how money marriages hinder community progress. With the rulers’ support secured, the team did interviews with money marriage wives to assess their needs. To date, Her Voice Foundation has trained about 150 women.

The organization also provides crucial psychosocial support. “We understand the discrimination these girls face, and mental strength is essential for their success,” Ms. Favour says. To amplify the young women’s voices, Her Voice Foundation hosts a radio program in which teen mothers share their experiences and challenges.

A sense of achievement

Money marriage “has had a devastating impact on young girls, as many of them are depressed and suffer from low self-esteem,” says Moses Bassey, an official at the Cross River State Ministry of Women Affairs.

But he emphasizes that “The intervention of Her Voice Foundation is changing things.” He says the vocational training it provides can give young women a sense of achievement and allow them to take care of themselves and their children. He adds, “There is the need to remind the traditional leaders that the times are changing and they need to get on board or be left behind.”

Ms. Rose hopes for a fresh start because of her training in sewing. “I never had the opportunity of going to school,” she says. “I am going to learn this skill, make money from it, and send my children to school.”

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
Real news can be honest, hopeful, credible, constructive.
What is the Monitor difference? Tackling the tough headlines – with humanity. Listening to sources – with respect. Seeing the story that others are missing by reporting what so often gets overlooked: the values that connect us. That’s Monitor reporting – news that changes how you see the world.

Give us your feedback

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

 

Dear Reader,

About a year ago, I happened upon this statement about the Monitor in the Harvard Business Review – under the charming heading of “do things that don’t interest you”:

“Many things that end up” being meaningful, writes social scientist Joseph Grenny, “have come from conference workshops, articles, or online videos that began as a chore and ended with an insight. My work in Kenya, for example, was heavily influenced by a Christian Science Monitor article I had forced myself to read 10 years earlier. Sometimes, we call things ‘boring’ simply because they lie outside the box we are currently in.”

If you were to come up with a punchline to a joke about the Monitor, that would probably be it. We’re seen as being global, fair, insightful, and perhaps a bit too earnest. We’re the bran muffin of journalism.

But you know what? We change lives. And I’m going to argue that we change lives precisely because we force open that too-small box that most human beings think they live in.

The Monitor is a peculiar little publication that’s hard for the world to figure out. We’re run by a church, but we’re not only for church members and we’re not about converting people. We’re known as being fair even as the world becomes as polarized as at any time since the newspaper’s founding in 1908.

We have a mission beyond circulation, we want to bridge divides. We’re about kicking down the door of thought everywhere and saying, “You are bigger and more capable than you realize. And we can prove it.”

If you’re looking for bran muffin journalism, you can subscribe to the Monitor for $15. You’ll get the Monitor Weekly magazine, the Monitor Daily email, and unlimited access to CSMonitor.com.

QR Code to How young Nigerian women in arranged ‘money marriages’ are getting a new start
Read this article in
https://www.csmonitor.com/World/Making-a-difference/2024/1212/nigeria-money-marriage-girls-becheve
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today
https://www.csmonitor.com/subscribe