Taking education across the frontier

THE bombing of its regional base was the most extreme of the hurdles faced every day by the charity Khwendo Kor. Maryam Bibi's usual bed was on the floor next to a bathroom that was destroyed in the blast. Fortunately, she had spent the night in the regional capital, Peshawar.

It was far from being the first run-in with the Taliban, who claimed responsibility for the attack shortly before Maryam left for York a year ago.

In fact, the charity, founded by Maryam ten years ago in the North West Frontier Province, meets opposition in virtually every village it enters. Islamic extremists are eager to stop the work it does educating women and girls.

"We get a lot of animosity," she said.

"There is often very strong opposition from the local people who want things keeping the same. It's not from the people who are working with us or the parents of girls getting the benefit of us being there, but from other people.

"We often have problems with the Maliks, the tribal leaders who use religion as an excuse to stop what we're doing, but we're not doing anything against Islam. We are simply providing education."

The women of these villages are treated very much as second-class citizens.

"They can't socialise with men," said Maryam. "They are not allowed out of the house without their husbands and they can't get access to any information from outside their village. They won't speak, they always have their faces covered.

"They really are treated like animals."

Maryam, 54 and a mother of four adult children, is studying social policy at the University of York, concentrating on the Pakistani tribal areas. Her own education will be used to help others learn when she returns home.

She already knows more than most about what faces girls born in the North Western Frontier Province, an area of Pakistan bordering Afghan-istan. She was born and brought up in the tribal areas right on the border, extremely rural and isolated settlements where submission of women is so deeply ingrained that Khwendo Kor has as yet been unable to make any inroads, despite 120 schools being set up elsewhere in the region.

"I belong to a very poor and backward area and I feel very much for the women who are still there," she said.

"Their self esteem is non-existent, and it will stay like that until they get some education. At the moment, they have access to nothing."

Because her father worked for the British Government, Maryam received a basic education. Apart from that, her upbringing was typical for women of the region.

She was married in 1970, through an arranged wedding, to a man whose health prevented him from working. He died three years ago.

"My husband was mentally sick and I was completely dependent on my in-laws," she said.

"I was extremely privileged because I had got a basic education, but I had never been allowed to work. With my husband being ill, I couldn't provide for my children. I got a job six times, and every time I was stopped from doing it because it was against the tribal system."

Eventually, 18 years after her marriage and after many attempts, she was given permission to work for a German organisation helping refugees.

"I started telling the women of my family that I wanted to work, and they started talking to their husbands and I began to get some support," she said.

"But I still got very strong opposition from both sides of my family. Working women were not liked and they were considered not to be good, but I slowly began to get more accepted and became more confident."

The German organisation closed down in 1992, and Maryam set up Khwendo Kor.

"My work had given me experience of working with village people, and I wanted to do something to help the women there," she said.

"I have gone through the process myself, I know the lives these women lead and that gives me the conviction that what I am doing is not wrong."

Until Khwendo Kor was set up, there was education for boys in the province, but absolutely nothing for women. The 120 schools in place are home based and have local teachers, and have so far taught thousands of people primary education, basic literacy and health care.

"When we go to a village, we have a long process to go through before we get a consensus," she said.

"We do not get a warm reception from everybody, and schools have had to be closed down because of rivalries in the villages.

"There was a time when we thought it would all have to close. There was extremely strong opposition, particularly from those people around the governor of the North West Frontier Province, and the local media was against us.

"We have to have feelers everywhere, we have to know who is criticising us and we have to work on consultation. We invite those who are critical to come and speak to us.

"It is hard work. We have to focus on the work of the schools, but at the same time we have to look at getting people on board, otherwise the school will not survive.

"The most important thing is to be clear about the cause for which we are working, and transparent about what we are doing, then our critics can see we are doing nothing wrong.

"But it's definitely worth doing. You see those women now, the ones who have been educated, and there is such a big difference. They are so much more confident and, where before they never said a word, now they want to be heard."

Maryam is now attempting to involve Britain in the charity's work. Although supported by groups such as Unicef and Oxfam, Khwendo Kor still needs donations. Last week a new group, the Friends of Khwendo Kor, was launched in York, working to highlight the work it does and raise funds.

Perhaps this will help Maryam in her ambition. She yearns to take education into the isolated tribal villages where she grew up but has been yet unable to reach with her work.

"Even now, in the tribal villages, an organisation for women is not imaginable," she said. "I want to change that."

The Friends of Khwendo Kor's website will soon be set up at www.frok.org.uk The group can be contacted on frok@mail.com.

Updated: 10:35 Tuesday, September 24, 2002