U.K.: Misery of life trapped in a loveless forced marriage - Part I

NEWCASTLE, North East England (The Journal), March 8, 2008: With a Forced Marriages Act about to be put into place Hannah Davies speaks to a Newcastle mother-of-two on her forced marriage and finds out what is being done in the region to combat the problem. SHAZ is a Newcastle-born woman, with a Geordie accent, who grew up in the West End. Yet this intelligent, professional woman, now in her mid-40s, was forced into an abusive marriage with her cousin at the age of 19. For 13 years she was trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who would taunt her, hit her and emotionally abuse her; a man she was forced to marry, by her parents. She says: “I do know of people who would rather kill their daughters than see them divorced or married to a white man or non-Muslim. “Respect (izzat), and honour are hugely important in our culture. “You have to try and understand the mindset. “As a daughter you are seen as a product of your parents so what you do sullies and disrespects them.” Forced marriages and honour killings are all over the news at the moment as the Forced Marriage Act (Civil Protection Act) 2007 finishes a consultation period this Friday. It is an Act welcomed by people like Shaz who have experienced, or think they may have to enter, a forced marriage, and those who give them support. Shaz’s father came to Newcastle from Pakistan in the 1950s. He came to create a better life for himself and his 16-year-old bride, who he returned to his homeland to marry. He worked long hours, sharing a one bedroom flat with six other men working as a salesman and slowly raised enough money to buy a flat. When he had acquired enough money his wife came over from Pakistan and they built up a successful business, eventually moving to leafier parts of Fenham in Newcastle. Shaz, who has an older brother and three younger sisters, says: “The Asian community in Newcastle was very close. “Everybody knew each other’s business. It was like growing up in a village in Pakistan. “There were good things about it but it was also stifling.” Shaz had a very traditional upbringing. She says: “My mother was very strict because she had four daughters, but my brother was given his freedom and went to Newcastle Royal Grammar School. “Girls are looked after very closely and our mother guarded us closely all the time, especially if we were in the same house as young men.” When she was 11 and visiting some cousins in Pakistan Shaz was handed a photo by her cousin. “That’s who you’re going to marry,” the cousin told Shaz. She adds: “I was a little shocked, he was another cousin I knew from the UK.” Because of this knowledge Shaz says it was a surprise when, in her late teens, she heard he had married a girl in Pakistan. When Shaz said in passing she thought she was meant to marry him her dad told her he had already found someone for her, her uncle’s son. The reality of this hit home. She recalls the moment: “My father told me, ‘I have found you a fine man to marry, we will bring him back from Pakistan and then you will marry him’. “I was outraged, as were my mum and brother. I didn’t want to be forced into the marriage, it horrified me.” Despite her reaction, her father pushed ahead, and soon her mother was onside as well. Shaz felt powerless to resist and in the early 1980s she was married to her cousin in a ceremony in Newcastle. “The marriage was awful from the start,” Shaz says. “There was never any love, and things got worse right from the beginning.” Shaz’s husband subjected her to horrific emotional and physical abuse. “The terror was the worst, I wasn’t sure when he would start off,” she recalls. “There were times I thought about throwing myself off the bridge.” Shaz had two sons very quickly after the marriage, “that was a lovely part of everything,” she smiles. But the abuse continued, and it soon became apparent her husband had psychological problems. He would pace the house and talk to himself. His behaviour became increasingly erratic and strange. Shaz decided she needed her own money so she got herself a job. Soon however her husband quit working but still expected her to do all the domestic work, treating her little better than a slave. After a long shift she would pick their two sons up from her parents on the way home. The first order she would be given was for a cup of tea, then she would have to wash dishes, make dinner and do the housework before falling into bed, terrified her husband would pick fault with her or begin the abuse. She remembers: “He would try and get me into arguments sometimes but I learnt it was pointless to argue against him. I would be kept up all night, which was fine for him because he could sleep all day but I had to get up, get the children ready and then go to work” A few times Shaz went back to her parents’ house but she was always told to return to her husband. “Being divorced brings so much shame on families,” she explains. Shaz spent 13 years in the marriage. Her brother offered to support her but Shaz felt unable to shame her parents by leaving her husband. The final straw came in the mid 90s. Unknown to her, on a trip back to Pakistan her husband’s mother had told him she had found another wife for him in Pakistan. “He came back and he was relaxed and I was grateful, I thought the rest had done him good. “Then, very calmly he told me.” Shaz was furious, ‘I just thought I’ve put up with 13 years of this abuse, I’ve provided this home, done everything, and this is what I get.” Her husband responded by saying: “I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you.” This constitutes a legal divorce according to Islam. Shaz’s parents were horrified. “My parents consulted another Mullah who told them the same thing, she was definitely divorced”, she says. “My mother, despite knowing what I’d gone through just asked why I couldn’t have kept quiet about what he said and continued living with my husband.” Shaz began the legal process of divorce, yet had to share her house with her ex-husband as they fought through the UK divorce in the courts. “It was horrible,” Shaz recalls. “We left the same house, to go to court, argue about everything through lawyers and then return home. It was living in torment.” The process left their sons traumatised. “The elder one was deeply upset by it, and my younger son claims he can’t recall any of it,” she adds. And, of course, there was an effect on Shaz herself. “I became tremendously bitter,” she recalls, “I became a person I wasn’t. “It was as if I’d taken on some of my husband’s characteristics, with my parents I would scream and shout, and I’m not like that, I’m a calm person.” It took a long time to get over the horrors of her marriage yet, unlike many women who have been forced into marriage and been divorced Shaz has kept in touch with her parents. “While I knew I was bringing great shame on them, and despite all the times I’d been sent back to my husband’s, I saw my mother every day. “They helped me with the children and they have always helped to support us financially. “It took a long time for me to lose the bitterness, but I have now.” All identities have been changed. By Hannah Davies, The Journal © 2008 NCJ Media Limited.