Going to the courthouse instead of playing with my dollhouse…

So far Nujood’s autobiography has amazed and inspired me.  I can’t believe a 10 year old girl was able to know when enough was enough and how it was time to stick up not just for herself, but for all the other young girls this was happening too.

Retell:

Khardji is the village where Nujood was born and where she spent the first few years of her life.  In that village, women are not taught how to make decisions.  It is a man’s world.  At the age of sixteen, Shoya, Nujood’s mom, was married of to Nujood’s father, Ali Mohammad al-Ahdel, without any word of protest.  Four years later, he decided to choose a second wife, and once again Nujood’s mother accepted his decision without complaining.  In their town there was only one way to give birth, at home, lying on a woven mat, sweating, suffering terribly and praying God to protect the newborn child.  Her mom had been pregnant nineteen times, three ended in miscarriages and one of her children died at birth.  Since there was no doctor in Khardji, four of Nujood’s siblings, whom she never knew, died of illness between the ages of two months and four years.  Presently, Nujood has ten siblings, which makes eleven kids in total from her mom.  Her mom’s kids from eldest to youngest there is Jamila, Mohammad, Mona, Fares, Nujood, Haïfa, Morad, Abdo, Assil, Khaled and Rawdha.  Nujood has ten siblings, but she also has five step-siblings who were brought into this world by Dowla, Nujood’s father’s second wife.  That makes sixteen kids running around their little house. 

A typical day at Nujood’s house would consist of her brothers going off to school in the morning, which was two hours away walking distance, and the girls would help around the house.  The main reason the girls didn’t go to school was that the long walk there was much too dangerous for a young girl, but her father also believed that they didn’t need an education.  Nujood was two or three years old, when a violent dispute broke out between her father and a few other villagers.  She didn’t know what was going on, but she kept on hearing her sister’s name, Mona, coming up in the argument.  It turns out the villagers accused her family of having trampled the honour of Khardji and stained its reputation.  All Nujood knew was that Mona had suddenly gotten married.  

After the dispute, Nujood’s family had to move away to Sana’a and leave everything behind.  After living in Sana’a for a while, Fares, Nujood’s brother, ran away and ended up in Saudi Arabia.  He had been the object of child trafficking, but at the time Nujood did not know what that was, all she knew was that she missed him terribly.  To keep her mind off her brother, Nujood would concentrate on her school work, since her parents enrolled her into school after countless times of begging them to go.  There she met her best friend Malak.

 

On the day of April 2^nd 2008, Nujood had decided to do what was right and stick up for herself.  After a long walk, there she stood, all alone, in front of the steps of the courthouse.  Extremely scared, Nujood tells herself “Go on Nujood!  It’s true you’re only a girl, but you’re also a woman, and a real one, even though you’re still having trouble accepting that.”  All of a sudden Nujood said in a strong voice “I want to talk to a judge!”  A woman turned around and asked “What?” “I want to talk to a judge, it doesn’t matter which one, as long as they are a judge.” Nujood replied.  The woman brought Nujood into a courtroom; it was filled with people with different problems.  She sat down and waited her turn, right before dozing off, Nujood hears a voice.  “And what can I do for you” the man said, Nujood replied “I want a divorce!”  The judge couldn’t believe what he had just heard.  “You want a divorce?” Judge Abdo replied.  “Yes” Nujood answered.  “But… you mean you’re married?” “Yes!”  He still had trouble processing what he is hearing.  “At your age you’re married?  How?”  Without answering his question, Nujood says once again “I want a divorce!”  Judge Abdo then asked why, “My husband beats me”.  His expression freezes, he realized that something horribly wrong had happened to Nujood; she had absolutely no reason to lie.  Suddenly he asked a serious question “Are you still a virgin?”  She was ashamed of her answer “No, I bled.”  He was shocked.  He then took a deep breath and replied “I’m going to help you.”  After a quick phone call, another judge walked into the courtroom, Judge Mohammad al-Ghazi, he was the chief judge.  He wasn’t at ease being in this situation, he had never seen a case like Nujood’s.  They both started to explain to Nujood, that in Yemen, girls get married off at a young age, quite young, before the legal age of fifteen in most cases.  It was an ancient tradition.  Even though Nujood doesn’t live in Yemen any more, her family followed the Yemen way of life.  The clock suddenly struck the two and that meant it was time to go home and since it was a Wednesday, the weekend has started and everything would be closed until Saturday.  By that time there were three judges in the courtroom, they all knew it was out of the question to make Nujood go back home.  Nujood asked if she could take refuge at one of the judge’s homes.  Judge Abdo wanted thought it was a good idea.  He then realized he couldn’t take her home since his wife and kids were out of town and it is against Islamic traditions for a woman to be left alone with a man who is not her close blood relative or husband.  Then the third judge, Abdel Wahed, volunteered, since his wife and kids are at home and they have lots of room.  Nujood was relieved; she had a place to stay.  When they arrived at his home, he quickly introduced her to his wife, Saba, and his daughter, Shima, whom must have been only three or four years younger than Nujood.  As for the four boys, well they were too busy watching cartoons.  They were a wealthy family and an extremely nice one too.  Shima’s mother explained to her that Nujood had been beaten by a bad man.  Shima felt so bad for her, she knew that it wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair to Nujood.  That night, in the living room, it was the first time that Nujood had the strength to tell her story.

 

Relate:

So far, I cannot relate myself to Nujood.  She is a young girl who has fifteen siblings.  I only have one and I already have enough trouble fighting over space with her, I can’t imagine what it like to live in Nujood’s home.  Her home is also much smaller than the average home, it must be crazy.  Another difference is instead of having a normal childhood, she gets married off.  I am definitely glad to not be married right now.  Since she ended up being married off to a man three times her age, she has been abused and brutally raped.  She lost her virginity, which is supposed to be a girl’s most precious thing, to a man she barely knows and she absolutely hates.  On top of that at the age of ten, most girls are playing with their Barbies and her dollhouse instead she was on her way to a courthouse, hence the title of my blog.

 

Reflect:

So far I have learned a lot about what it’s like to be a girl from Yemen and I’m sad to say it’s not really a good thing.  Women from Yemen are forced to do as they are told by the men without protesting against them.  It’s unfair.  I know I like to talk, sometimes I talk back and when I don’t agree with something, I like to fight to prove my point.  If I were in Yemen, I don’t know if I would survive.  It’s depressing to know that females there are considered second class citizens.  In Canada, men and women are equal, which is the way it should be.  Another thing, which blew my mind, was learning that child trafficking was very popular in Yemen.  I have also learned that these arranged marriages are most of time illegal.  The legal age to get married there is fifteen; Nujood was five years to young.  The sad part is the judges in the courthouse couldn’t do anything, because no girl has ever come to tell them.  When Nujood made her way there and explained to them what happened, they were astonished and not in a good way.  Where I am in the autobiography is probably one of the happiest times for Nujood.  She is not at her home, but at a judge’s home.  She knows she’s safe and that that judge will help her get her life back.  The only sad part is that in the judge’s home, it was the first time she saw what family life was supposed to be.