Sometimes rules have to be broken

They have that fearful and mischievous look of schoolgirls who know they are breaking a rule but aren’t really sorry about it. Before entering the room, they spent almost an hour preparing their transgression, talking each other into it and weighing the consequences. They know they are likely to be chastised for it, but they decided that it’s worth it. After all, there are these other three who are doing it and they will get away with it.


They are not schoolgirls. In fact, most of them are young teachers, the six most educated women of their village; a few years ago, they were elected by the female members of their community to represent them in the National Solidarity Program (NSP) as the “women’s shura” or “female Community Council Development”. Such female participation in the governing committees of rural communities was required by this country-wide program as a condition to granting funds for various development (mainly infrastructure) projects at village level; the purpose was to encourage women’s participation in public life. However, in most communities this remains an unattained goal; although the “women’s shuras” exist, and often even meet regularly, their views are rarely taken into account and most of the decisions regarding the community are made exclusively by the male shuras (referred to only as “shura”). Even when shuras are mixed (usually meaning the male shura has one or two female members, to fulfil the conditions of the NSP), they rarely, if ever, participate in the meetings.

The main reason for this situation is that interaction between men and women who are not married or closely related is severely restricted in most rural communities of Afghanistan (and, for many families, even in urban areas). The honour of the family resides in the women, therefore they must be closely supervised, covered and controlled lest they, weak creatures that they are, make a mistake and throw shame upon their entire family. Leaving the home unaccompanied by a mahram (male relative), for any reason, whether to work or to take a sick child to the hospital, can result in suspicion, which leads to rumours, which, of course, must be true, since there is no smoke without fire, and so on. So many people prefer to avoid all this and keep their daughters, sisters and wives locked up and above any accusation.

I met the women in my story when I was introducing my project in their community. Accompanied by two (female) colleagues, I sat over the ubiquitous three cups of tea and talked to them; they asked pertinent questions and made excellent suggestions. They also complained that their role as women’s shura was merely a facade; they did not have any real power in the community. We had to talk to the men, they said, the real “shura” if we were to get approval to work in this village. They had a sort of longing in their eyes, as if they envied us because we would have no problem doing just that.

Upon leaving the girls’ school where we met the women’s shura, my colleagues and I were invited for lunch at the house of our (female) community mobilizer in that village, while we waited for the men’s shura to convene. In another room of the same house, as we found out later, the women’s shura were preparing their transgression.

As we sit on cushions, across from the white and gray beards, and we make the introductions, preparing to start presenting our project, the “schoolgirls” enter the room, with their fearful and mischievous looks. They sit in the furthest corner of the room, careful to put a considerable distance between them and the men. The community mobilizer explains that, since ours was a project involving women directly, they felt like they should bring their contribution to the discussion.

And they do! Although shy and, at first, reluctant to speak in the same strong voice which they used when we were alone, the women actually talk and express their views and concerns; and far from being dismissive, the men actually listen and take them into account.

Later, the community mobilizer told us that they had been boosted by the fact that we were there as equal partners in the discussion, three women (well, two women and one strange creature that is “foreign woman”) without a mahram. We also found out that some of the women were closely related to some of the men, which made it more socially acceptable. Even so, they knew they were breaking the customs and took that risk when they entered the room.  

It’s difficult to explain to someone who is not familiar with Afghan customs just how much of a breakthrough this “mixed” session was; it was the second time in the history of that particular community when something like this happened and the first time when it was not specifically requested by an external agent (NSP) but instead came naturally and from within the community.

After the meeting, the women had proud and somewhat surprised smiles; they still couldn’t believe they pulled it off and lived to tell the tale. They told me they will continue to attend these meetings and will bring more of the women’s issues into the discussion. It was one of the most inspiring moments in my work here so far.