Hampshire Constabulary: Forced marriage victim speaks

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Forced marriage victim speaks

Forced marriage is a hidden problem and is happening across the world, including our two counties.

Mother-of-four, Anjali, 28, was forced to marry three times by her parents and shares the horrific experiences she faced to help other young people who may be going through a similar situation:

"I was born and brought up in Hampshire and until I was 16-years-old I went to normal schools and had a relatively normal life. After I had completed my GCSEs I was expecting to go to college. My dad even went with me to college open days and I was so excited when I got accepted - then that summer we went on a family holiday to Bangladesh.

I had no idea about the event that would go on to change my life until my grandmother sat me down and showed me a photograph of the man I would marry the next day. I thought it was a game and at first I laughed and then I pleaded that I didn’t want to, that I wanted to go to college and have freedom.

It was supposed to be the happiest days of my life but it was terrible. My wedding day meant that I had to leave everything and everyone I knew behind for someone I had only ever seen in a photo.

My new husband was living with his family in a remote village in Bangladesh, I was no longer a teenager helping her mum - I was the oldest sons’ wife which was a huge responsibility. As well as my husband, I had to look after the younger siblings and my new mother and father-in-law. There I was everyday in the kitchen with no washing machine and burning myself on these huge Bangladeshi cookers. I didn’t know where I was but I am the sort of person that just does as they are told, I won’t moan about it I just find out how to do it.

After three months and a bout of malaria, I was permitted back to England on the condition that I applied for a passport for my husband. I got a job to save and awaited his arrival.

I remember the first beating I got. I accidentally knocked over the stereo from its stand whilst hovering. He came up to me and punched my face. I froze because I couldn’t work out what I had done wrong. He waved his hand in my face and told me never to touch his stereo again. I told him I was sorry and spent hours trying to work out why it had fallen and questioned myself over and over.

Before it had to be a huge thing that I had done wrong, like when I fell pregnant with my first child and was constantly sick and had no energy, my housework started to slack. Then it boiled down to me not ironing out a crease on a shirt. I could go on and on but it comes down to the fact that he did not respect me at all.

I had to have stitches in my head once because I asked him for a pound to get our daughter some milk. He grabbed hold of me and whacked my head straight onto the corner of the wall and I was bleeding. He didn’t know what to do with me. I carried my daughter and I tried to get out but he got a knife and pressed it into my throat and said if I left he would kill me. I stayed.

In the end I got so use to the beatings that I could blank them out five minutes later and carry on washing the dishes.

So many times I went back to my parents with obvious cuts and bruises but I couldn’t speak to them because it is embarrassing. I am a daughter I have to keep it quiet. I am a wife I have to cope. I had donated my life to my husband and he told me that every wife gets beaten like this and that I am no exception.

I wasn’t allowed out. I wasn’t allowed friends. But at the same time I was too scared to have friends. When rules are set you just get used to it; like when you set a rule to a child.

The final straw was when my daughter dropped his bottle of aftershave on the floor. I could hear his tone getting angrier as he was yelling at her. I went to see what was going on and as I walked up the stairs I could see that he had hold of her hair, whilst struggling to get his belt off. I asked him what he was doing and tried to explain that it was an accident and that she didn’t mean to do it. He grabbed hold of my face and lifted me off the ground, squeezing my face so hard that my gums bled. He put me down and he began whacking our daughter - I tried to hold the belt but I was interfering so he pushed me down the stairs. I awoke to the thumping sound of the belt on her skin as she cried my name - I could feel the blood running down inside me, I couldn’t swallow or speak. I couldn’t do this anymore.

Everything came back to the embarrassment of my family. Do I speak out? But you can’t. Everybody said just cope with it; be patient. But how long can you take a beating for? I found the courage to call my mum and told her I couldn’t take it. I was informed that it would be a big embarrassment on my family but in the end they said if I had to I could come home.

I planned to leave him the very next day, I pre-booked a taxi and the realisation that I would be free caused butterflies in my stomach. As he slept, I crept around the house gathering all my important things in my bag and making sure that everything was clean. When he woke up I gave him the last super I would ever have to make for him. All the housework was done, his clothes were drying on the line and it was spotless.

As soon as he left for work I dragged my bags down the stairs and got my two girls ready. I kept checking the time every five minutes waiting for the taxi to turn up. As the cab drove away I thought wa-hey I am out of here, freedom at last.

I went home to my parents with a deflated eardrum, cuts that needed stitching up and blood clots. Inside and outside I was tortured. However, everyone thought I was a piece of dirt sitting in their home. It was simply a case of hurry up and get that divorcee married quickly.

Two years down the line, it was arranged that I would marry my disabled cousin in Bangladesh. I don’t know if it is an arranged or a forced marriage – I didn’t want to get married, but I was helpless and had to accept that it was just cultures way. My parents told me it was the best thing for me and that it was a good cause because nobody else wanted to marry him and well you fall for it. I fell for it.

The cycle of applying for him to come and live in the UK was easier this time because I knew what to do. He didn’t like the fact I worked or had children from a previous marriage. He was a bully. We got divorced.

I was quickly married off again to a 40-year-old divorcee - the community thought we were the perfect match because we both had two failed marriages. I thought it was an escape route from my parents. I wouldn’t have to listen to them telling me how embarrassing I am and I had to please them. You just say yes. I didn’t care what or who he was. I married him without knowing what he looked like.

He hated my two year old son, an innocent child in his diapers running around. He put him on broken glass and tormented us all - when I think about it I just have to go and grab him and cuddle him.
I had no way out, who do you speak to? You don’t have any friends; my contact list is empty. You want to say something to the doctor but it is embarrassing, what would the doctor think of you – ‘this is your third marriage don’t you have anything better to do than this?’ But when I went to see my GP because of my child, I burst into tears and I told him what was happening and he called the social services straight away.

I didn’t hear anything for a couple of days but then I went to see them and they gave me a week to get away from my husband or risk loosing my children. It was the best motivation.

The usual questions run through your mind; what is the whole Bengali community going to say? How much shame will my parents feel? Here we go again... But it isn’t about their life. This is about my life. My life may be ruined but I won’t let them ruin my children’s life

The lady from social services set me a date a time and told me where to go. When I got to the women’s refuge, the support workers were amazing; they want to talk to you and listen, and they are not stuck up. The refuge was like a home; a big bedroom and lots of beds. They made me feel so welcome that I realised that I could never go back to the life I knew.

Fast forward a couple of years and my once-quiet children are now shining. The support workers took them out on a one-to-one basis and now they are settled with a big group of friends.

I am always cleaning, always going over things and constantly washing my hands – I still have that fear inside me. My parents still try and talk about marrying me off but I walk away. I have been managing for four and half years on my own and I am out of this situation and I am not going back. My kids are enough for me.

I want to tell my story because I want to help other young women in my situation to realise that what is happening to them is wrong and that there is a way out and lots of people to help them."

Anjali's story is not an isolated one. Last year Hampshire Constabulary worked with more than 60 victims of 'honour based' cases. If you would like to report a similar situation or fear that someone you know may be forced to marry contact Hampshire Constabulary on 0845 045 45 45. We will believe you.

Hampshire Constabulary and key agencies across Hampshire and Isle of Wight formed a specialised action group - the first of its kind in the country - to prevent honour based violence wherever possible and to work towards a zero tolerance approach. For more information about the group click here.