تزوجت خلود ابنة حسن من محمد بن محمود وسوف، تتلقى خلود 3000 ليرة تركية كعروس، و3000 ليرة تركية في حالة الطلاق، لايوجد توقيع من "خلود" على الورقة، ولكن قريب وشهود وقعوا عليها بدلاً من ذلك.
هربت "خلود" إلى تركيا عندما كانت في الثانية عشرة من عمرها، وكانت مخطوبة في سن الثالثة عشرة، وتزوجت في سن الرابعة عشرة، وانفصلت في سن الخامسة عشرة، تركت المدرسة عندما كانت في الصف الرابع عندما بدأت الحرب في سوريا وفقدت والدها بعد ذلك بوقت قصير، عندما سألتها عما إذا كان والدها سيسمح لها بالزواج إذا كان لا يزال على قيد الحياة، أجابت أكثر من أي وقت مضى: "بالتأكيد لا."
اقرأ أيضاََ :الشاعر "ابراهيم الصمادي" .. عمليات نصب واحتيال وتشبيح بالوثائق نقلاََ عن مدونة الاستحقاق . (اضغط هنا)
على الرغم من أن زواج الأطفال يُعتبر جزءًا من التقاليد في جميع أنحاء الشرق الأوسط، إلا أن بعض التقديرات تشير الآن إلى أن معدلات زواج الأطفال أعلى أربع مرات بين اللاجئين السوريين اليوم مقارنة بالسوريين قبل الحرب.
اقرأ أيضاََ :بالفيديو والصور - أنت عميل اذا فضحت فسادي .. هرطقات موالي طبال الائتلاف السوري "نزار الحراكي" في الجنوب السوري . (اضغط هنا)
لقد فقد اللاجئون الذين فروا من الحرب في سوريا آبائهم وإخوانهم وواجهوا العديد من المواقف الصادمة، حلهم هو تزويج بناتهم ، لكن النتيجة ليست دائما ما يتوقعونه.
تم تغيير اسم العروس وأصبحت الأسماء في الصورة غير واضحة.
Mahmoud Bitar
اقرأ أيضاََ :"نزار الحراكي" سفير الإئتلاف في الدوحة .. هل يحتاج الى اعادة تأهيل اجتماعي أم أنه قليل تربية ؟ (اضغط هنا)
TR- 14 yaşında evlendirilen Kholood*’un rastgele bir ajanda kağıdına yazılmış “evlilik belgesi”. Şöyle diyor: Hassan’ın kızı Kholood, Mahmoud’un oğlu Mohamed ile evleniyor. Kholood, mehir olarak 3000 TL, eğer boşanırsa bir 3000 TL daha alacak. Belgede Kholood’un imzası yok ama abisinin ve şahitlerin imzaları var
Kholood, 12 yaşında Suriye’den Türkiye’ye göç etti, 13 yaşında nişanlandırıldı, 14 yaşında evlendirildi ve 15 yaşında “boşandı”. Okula gitmeyi dördüncü sınıftayken savaş başlayınca bıraktı, bir süre sonra da babasını kaybetti. Baban hayatta olsaydı evlenmene izin verir miydi diye sorduğumda hiç olmadığı kadar emin bir şekilde cevap verdi: “Kesinlikle hayır”
Çocuk evlilikleri tüm Ortadoğu’da geleneklerin bir parçası olarak görülse de, istatistikler Suriyeli mülteciler arasında çocuk evliliğinin savaştan sonra savaştan önceye göre dört kat arttığını söylüyor. Savaştan kaçan; babasını, abisini kaybeden, türlü travmatik durumla karşı karşıya kalan mülteciler çareyi kızlarını evlendirmekte buluyor. Fakat sonuç, her zaman bekledikleri gibi olmuyor
Hikayenin devamı (ve şimdilik bir kısmı) burada
*Evlendirilen çocuğun ismi değiştirilmiş ve fotoğraftaki isimler bulanıklaştırılmıştır
EN- The "marriage certificate" of Kholood* who got married at 14 on a random paper of a planner. It reads as follows: Kholood, the daughter of Hassan, is getting married to Mohamed, son of Mahmoud. Kholood will receive 3000 TL as a bride price and 3000 TL more in case of a divorce. There is no signature by Kholood but a relative and witnesses signed for her instead
Kholood fled to Turkey when she was 12, was engaged at 13, got married at 14 and “divorced” at 15. She left school when she was in fourth grade when the war had started in Syria and lost her father soon after that. When I asked her if her father would allow her to marry if he was still alive, she responded much more certain than ever: “Absolutely not.”
Although child marriages are seen as part of traditions around all the Middle East, some estimates now show child marriage rates to be four times higher among Syrian refugees today than among Syrians before the war. The refugees who escape from the war have lost their fathers and brothers and have confronted many traumatic situations. Their solution is to marry off their daughters, but the outcome is not always what they expect
The rest (and a part of the story for now) is published here
*The name of the bride has been changed and the names in the photo are blurred
Divorced at 15: Inside the Lives of Child Brides
For Syrian refugee families in Turkey, early marriage is seen as a pathway to security though the outcome is not always as hoped.
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K., 15, is recently divorced from her 20-year-old husband. She fled to Turkey when she was 12, was engaged at 13, and got married at 14. She says she is happy to be divorced because the couple did not get along but she is not hopeful about continuing her education. She left school when she was in fourth grade when the war started in Syria. |
When the war came to Syria, even families who opposed it felt they had to marry off their teenage daughters for their protection. Now, as refugees, they face the same dilemma. In neighboring countries like Turkey young girls are becoming single mothers amid an ignored child marriage epidemic
The industrial city of Kayseri in the Anatolian region of Turkey is home to about 60,000 Syrian refugees. Photographer Özge Sebzeci recently spent time documenting a story she says is largely unknown in her native Turkey—the prevalence of marriage and divorce among Syrian refugee children
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The dress worn by a 14 year-old bride to is laid out after her wedding day to an 18 year-old. Sebzeci attended the wedding but was not allowed to take pictures. “[The bride's] eyes were full of emotion," Sebzeci recalls. "She was definitely afraid and surprised and trying to understand why all of the attention was on her. She was smiling sometimes as well. It was a powerful moment.” |
Girls as young as 13 are getting married in unofficial ceremonies. Sometimes these unions don’t last, leaving the girls divorced at 15 with children to raise, facing barriers to the education and opportunities that would pave the way for success in their new country. “Divorce is easy because all the husband has to do is to say ‘I divorce you’ three times,” Sebzeci says, of a law in Sunni Islam known as “triple talaq.” “The girls don't have the rights they would otherwise have, such as inheritance and alimony.”
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Left: H., 15 (right), and her 13 year-old sister share a moment at their home in Kayseri. They are originally from Aleppo and lived in a refugee camp on the border with Syria for four years.Right: The infant son of 16 year-old Z. and her 21 year-old husband sleeps on his first day at home from the hospital. Due complications from premature birth, the newborn had to stay in the hospital for more than a month. Z. got married when she was 14 |
With the help of a well-connected member of the Syrian refugee community, Sebzeci interviewed girls and their mothers to understand the problem’s root. While some of these mothers had been teen brides themselves, most had not. According to the United Nations Population Fund, child marriage was significantly less common among Syrians before the war began. Some estimates now show child marriage rates to be four times higher among Syrian refugees today than among Syrians before the crisis
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İ., 20, and A., 17, with their 5-day-old baby at their home in Kayseri. The couple were engaged in Syria. 5 days later, İ. stepped onto a mine and lost his leg. He is now a day laborer at mobile phone shops or with shoemakers. They are happy that A. gave birth without complications
The reasons why families consent to early marriage range from practicality—marrying off their daughters can ease a financial burden—to a desire to protect their honor from men outside of the community who might take advantage of them
In one instance, a young bride who had lost her father in the war told Sebzeci: “If my father was alive he would have never given permission," but her mother succumbed to pressure from suitors
The legal age of marriage in Turkey is 18, or 17 with parental consent. In exceptional circumstances, people can marry at 16, subject to court approval. Religious marriages at ages younger than that still exist at different levels throughout the country as “a known secret,” Sebzeci says. These pockets of acceptance might also explain a reluctance to intervene in refugee communities, perceiving the practice as part of their tradition
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H. shows Sebzeci her engagement ring and dress before her engagement party. "H. asked for a teddy bear when I asked her what she wanted for her engagement," Sebzeci says. H.'s suitor was a friend of her brother's, who gave his hand at the wedding |
“Even at weddings [the Syrian families] invite Turkish neighbors who say, ‘This bride is really young,’ but they don’t do anything,” says Sebzeci. “One of the brides went to the hospital to give birth at 15 and was taken by the police to a safe house but she didn’t speak Turkish. The police made her sign [a document] saying that she wouldn’t live with her husband until she was 18 but there is no way to police this. She goes to the station every week to say that she isn’t living with him even though she is.”
Though the girls spoke freely within the safety of their homes, Sebzeci spent more time listening than photographing. Some would not consent to being photographed without their floor-length abayas and she was not allowed to photograph wedding ceremonies. Instead, she used a metaphorical approach—sometimes showing the girls behind the curtains that were literally shielding them from view
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M., 17, pushes her daughter in a stroller outside their home in Kayseri. M. was married when she was 14 and became pregnant shortly thereafter. Her husband left her 20 days after she gave birth to their daughter. She says he was abusive and she is relieved that he is gone but struggles to care for her child by herself. She recently started working as a pharmacy assistant and supports her family on the equivalent of $26 per week |
The key to empowering these families and their daughters to choose differently is education on the local level, including learning Turkish. “We have to think how we can help them adapt to the society,” Sebzeci says
The woman who introduced Sebzeci to the refugee community sees herself as an activist, Sebzeci says, and tells these stories to put a stop to the practice. When she heard that a 12-year-old schoolmate of her daughter’s was being pursued by a family interested in marriage, she put her foot down. “No,” she warned. “I will tell the journalist.”
كل الشكر لكم زملائي الأحرار
00905392008361
29/3/2018
Skype : mohammad.baraa14
