Tajikistan: Women Left to Struggle Alone
Tajik women are caught between old-fashioned attitudes and modern expectations, as they struggle to raise their families alone.
Tajikistan: Women Left to Struggle Alone
Tajik women are caught between old-fashioned attitudes and modern expectations, as they struggle to raise their families alone.
Life is not easy for anyone in one of the poorest Tajik provinces of Hatlon, bordering Afghanistan. But as growing numbers of men leave to work on building sites in Moscow or Yekaterinburg, the women they leave behind face even greater hardship.
In markets across the main city of Kulyab, women can be seen trying to hawk a few pathetic goods to support their families. Many of their younger sisters, with little real prospect of marriage, are opting to become "temporary wives" or concubines.
Across Tajikistan, rising unemployment has prompted growing numbers of men to seek work in Russia. Official statistics say that 80,000 have left Hatlon alone, unofficial estimates put the figure at 200,000. The migrant workers usually come home in winter, then go back to Russia again in spring. But some don't return at all, leaving their wives to face the future as sole breadwinners.
The women left behind are equally blighted by the unemployment which drove their husbands to seek work elsewhere. In Hatlon's main city of Kulyab, 16,000 women have lost their jobs in the last decade - almost 20 per cent of the total population of 87,000.
"These women face insuperable obstacles,” said Zulaiho Komilova, head of the Umed womens' centre. "Only about 10 per cent of them can even afford to buy a basic food basket, which city statistics price at 20 somoni (about seven dollars).”
As well as their own children, most women must also look after their parents and their parents-in-law. "My husband has been working in Russia for several years now," said Rano, from a village outside Kulyab. "I own one cow, but I have to look after my four children and my husband's parents who depend on me totally."
Like many men, Rano's husband sends the money he earns not to his wife, but to his own parents, who are the family elders. "When money is about to arrive from Russia, my husband’s parents always find an excuse to send me to my own parents, so they can spend it all themselves," she said.
When her husband left for Russia five years ago, Mavlyuda was left to fend for their two children. "I have no education, I got married when I was 16. I did everything I could, I went to the market to sell goods, I cleaned floors, but the money was barely enough. Then my mother arrived from her village and my life became unbearable," she said.
International organisations and NGOs have tried to address the problems Tajik women face by providing them with "micro-credits", or small loans, so they can use their traditional skills to set up small businesses. But the male traders who dominate the markets object to women "invading their territory" and deprive them of decent trading slots.
The tax inspection office in Kulyab estimates that 6,000 women are trying to hawk goods in markets, in the face of a hostile reception from male stall-holders. "These women use our loans to try and find a patch at the markets, but absolutely no provision is made for them," said Komilova. "No matter how many times we talk to the market traders, they will not accommodate the women."
Similar obstacles face women who look for work in other traditional male environments. "My husband was killed during the civil war, leaving me to raise six children," said Odinabi Mamadova, an older woman from the Vosey district of Hatlon. "With no one to help me and widespread TB in the area, I went to the collective farm and begged the administrators to give me a plot of land to grow some wheat to feed my children."
But Mamadova found herself ostracised by the male-dominated administration, who deprived her of fertilisers, left her at the back of the queue for water and fobbed her off with inferior seeds. With only ten per cent of her plot yielding any harvest, she was unable to repay a micro loan from a humanitarian organisation.
Umed says that around 11 per cent of women cannot repay their loans, which have been secured against jewellery or property which may then be confiscated.
Mamadova was lucky. "The people there felt sorry for me, realised my predicament and did not take me to court. Now two of my sons have grown up and are helping, so hopefully we will survive. As for me, I am totally exhausted. Only my children keep me going," she said.
For the last three years, Tajikistan has had a national programme intended to guarantee equal rights for men and women. State institutions continue to obstruct the very women they are meant to be assisting, says Makhbuba Sharipova, head of the Mairam NGO, which provides support for local women.
"The authorities try to force women back into the kitchen - where there is no food, water, electricity or gas,” she said.
Modern economic problems have spawned some "age-old" solutions. Many women resort to becoming "second wives" or concubines.
"My neighbour introduced me to a rich man, not a bad sort. He rented an apartment for me, and I lived with him for four months, until his real wife found out and caused a scandal," Mavlyuda told IWPR. "We are still living on the money that he gave me and by selling off his presents. I don’t know what will happen when there is nothing left to sell."
Even below the status of the "second wife" comes that of the "temporary wife", often a woman of between 16 and 25. The drift of men towards Russia has tipped the gender balance, making the prospect of a genuine marriage remote for many younger women. Men returning home for a short period support a woman as a "temporary wife", but with no plan of settling or starting a family.
"I was literally forced out of one family, where there were 11 other hungry mouths to feed," said Sitora. "Over four years, I 'married' four times for three or four months, each time to a ‘husband’ who had returned from work abroad. They rented apartments, paid for clothes and food, and brought me the odd present. I had some freedom, but I was not allowed to become pregnant. What will happen next, I don’t know. I don’t even dream of having a real family, who would want to marry me now?"
"These arrangements are in contravention of shariah norms," an imam at a mosque in Kulyab told IWPR. "Marrying several women is allowed, but only if all wives are given equal affection, prosperity and respect. In these cases, a man makes some extra money by dubious means, then takes a new wife, leaving his first family cold and hungry. When the money dries up, he abandons his newly-acquired wife, who is left with little choice than to become a prostitute, because with such a blemish on her reputation, she has no prospects of joining another family."
Ahmad, who has had two temporary wives, fits the imam's description. "So what, they were happy, I lived with them, I looked after them quite well until they were no longer needed," he said. "Now I’m thinking about taking a second wife, as my first wife has already had six children. I won't let my second wife have a baby. I want to relax and amuse myself with her and my friends."
Some desperate mothers even sell their daughters. Firuza has nine children, six of them girls. Her husband, who left for Russia six years ago, was never heard of again. "I did everything I could to earn a crust," she said. "I cleaned in several offices, I sold bric-a-brac at the market. Then I met a madam who directed so-called husbands to my home, to amuse themselves with three of my daughters. I realise how wrong it is, when these married men with families arrive here. After they hand over money or food, I go into the other room and weep."
The plight of women in Hatlon is a more extreme reflection of the wider problems faced by women across Tajikistan. Political scientist Tursun Kabirov said, "Despite numerous decrees on improving the position of women, there are virtually no women in government ministries or departments and few female deputies in parliament. Of course, there are female heads of NGOs, but what can they do when women are regarded as second class, especially in remote regions? This despite the fact that mass male migration has left them as heads of families and breadwinners."
Anna Vinnichenko, Kulyab field officer for the UN World Food Programme, commented, "We try to raise the prestige of women within the family by writing out coupons for humanitarian aid in the name of mothers, not the fathers. But there are men who vehemently oppose this, adamant that they must control everything in the family, including the distribution of food."
Even the most liberated Tajik male admits to some ambivalence. "During the day I try my utmost to convince people that women deserve more respect, that they are the keepers of the sacred family home, and they cannot be treated like animals," said Rustam, a poet. "But I come home in the evening, look at my five daughters and two nieces who were left behind when my brother died and a treacherous question enters my head, ‘who could take them off my hands?’ "
Turko Dikaev is an independent journalist in Tajikistan.
