Forced Into a Marriage and a Life of Misery

Here is an extract from my book, The Gori’s Daughter, about how I was forced into marriage at age 18.

It was a warm, sunny spring afternoon when Shagufta informed of me of my punishment, a punishment given to me for daring to run away, for losing my virginity, for being defiant but mostly just for being the gori’s daughter. A fate, which I am sure, would have been chosen for me regardless of what I had done.

“Remember that skinny black guy? Well guess what? You’re marrying him. Ha ha, they just said to your rishta (marriage proposal).’

I went looking for Mummy who is upstairs in her bedroom. Vague memories of the man chosen for me came to mind and I beg her to tell them no.

‘He’s horrible, old and so black,’ I told her. ‘I didn’t even know him. Please tell them there is no way I am marrying him!’ Mummy is unable to help.

‘What can I do, hen, they’ve said yes. Just think you will be getting away from here and they seem like a nice family,’ she told me, not realising that the niceness was probably fake.

For weeks I had been stuck at home never being allowed out in case I ran away again. I told everyone who would listen, I told Mummy and my siblings, too scared to voice my opinions to Abbas or Fatima, that I was not marrying him, they couldn’t force me I said confidently.

‘I am 18, I live in Britain, nobody can force me to marry anyone I don’t want to,’ was my cry for several days after I learned of my ‘marriage.’ ‘In our religion it is wrong too.’ Even I knew that much; it seemed like no one else cared that I was being forced to marry against my will.

Naeem called me into the living room one afternoon; he was the only nice one from the step side. He is fifteen years older than I am and rarely spoke to me. When he did he was pleasant enough, we just didn’t have anything in common and I had never spoken to him alone before. Waiting for me to sit down before he began talking.

‘Aisha, you have to marry Pervaiz. Think of the family honour, if you don’t Uboo jee will kill himself. He has rope in the boot of the car, I saw it when I went in for something and it wasn’t there the other day.’

Listening to him I felt sorry for Abbas, I didn’t want Abbas to die, I just wanted him to like me. Could I live with the guilt if he used the rope as Naeem was suggesting?

Emotional blackmail is something most Asian children are very familiar with. It is regularly used by parents to control their children. Talking about the importance of honour in the big house was a joke; my parents were living in sin and were worried about how my not marrying someone they had promised me to would affect the family honour. Abbas never had any intentions of taking his life, certainly not for my sins but listening to Naeem, I visualised Abbas hanging from a rope. How could I live with myself, I thought, if he hanged himself? Abbas was loved by his other children and by the women in the big house, he was my father too and even though he never showed me any love I loved him and didn’t want him to die for my sins. The emotional blackmail did the trick and I no longer shouted about my rights, instead I resigned myself to the fact that there would be no escape for what had been planned for me.

Shazia Hobbs grew up in Glasgow with her white Scottish mum, her Pakistani-born dad, his Pakistani-born first wife and eight of the 11 children the two women. Shazia Hobbs debut novel, The Gori’s Daughter, is available on Amazon now.

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