Plan Asia

Ghazala

Ghazala does not know for sure how old she is. Her guess is anywhere between 15 and 18 years. She became a child bride five years ago. For a young girl, she already has three children- two sons aged 3 and 2 and a three-month-old daughter.

Ghazala’s husband works as a manual labourer and often struggles to find long-term work.  On days he is able to find odd jobs, he still earns less than 2 dollars a day. “He goes without work for long periods of time and there are days we struggle to feed ourselves well,” she says.

Left with little alternative to feed a family of five – including three young children, Ghazala supplements her husband’s meager income by rolling beedis like other girls and women in her neighbourhood. Unlike others who accomplish rolling 1000 beedis a day, Ghazala can barely roll 500. “In addition to rolling beedis and doing household chores, I also have to look after three very young children,” she says.

For a young mother who is still breastfeeding, Ghazala has little time or money to care for her nutritional needs. She sits for hours rolling beedis with her youngest child on her lap. All her children, including the three-month-old girl come in direct contact with tobacco. Like all other beedi rollers in Kadiri, Ghazala and her children are exposed to harmful tobacco dust as they sit in narrow congested lanes, surrounded by heaps of tobacco in temperatures reaching 45 degrees Celsius in summer.

“Besides severe body ache, I also get headaches and sometimes I find it difficult to breathe,” she says. “But I have to work to survive and to pay our rent, we have no choice.”

Aisha

Aisha was only 13 when she became a child bride. Now, at the age of 16, she is already 4 months pregnant with her first child. Third among five siblings, Aisha’s father passed away when she was only 10. Extreme poverty, further exacerbated by the death of her father, meant that she had to drop out of school after just completing her primary education and get married.

She has been rolling beedis ever since she came to live with her husband’s family after marriage. Aisha’s 25-year-old husband Asif is a painter and often struggles to find regular work. For rest of the days he stays at home.

With her husband’s meager income, a significant burden of running the household has fallen on Aisha. “We do not own a house and have to pay our rent. If we don’t pay we will lose the roof above our head,” she says.

Far from looking after herself and meeting her nutritional requirements, Aisha spends all day squatting on the floor rolling up to 2000 beedis along with other female members of the family. “I feel the pain in my chest and lungs. I also suffer from back ache,” she says. 

Salma

Eleven-year-old Salma is suffering from jaundice. She is so frail she can barely sit straight. Yet, she is tasked with rolling up to 1500 beedis a day to support her family. It takes her over 12 hours of painful labour to earn less than 2 dollars.

Youngest among four siblings, Salma dropped out of school last year when she completed grade 4. “I wanted to continue going to school but we are very poor and have been struggling to pay our rent. We have to work to survive,” she says.

Salma is in need of medical attention. She looks drawn and gaunt. Her parents spent every little saving they had for the marriage of their two elder daughters. They are now left with nothing for Salma or her 15-year-old brother Yousuf who is training to be a carpenter with a local tradesman.

With her illness and excruciating work Salma’s condition is deteriorating. She has also developed a ringworm infection on her wrist. Infections like this are common in the area due to poor sanitation, lack of hygiene and crammed living conditions.

Very low levels of education further compound the dire conditions in which people live and work in the area. Salma’s parents and neighbours believe her ringworm infection is related to her jaundice and both can only be cured by branding her sore, infected wrist with a hot iron rod. Many children and adults in the area bear similar scars caused by branding.

Munni

Munni (pictured, right) is 17 years old. By the time she was only 7 she learned to roll beedis, like most girls in her neighbourhood, and helped her mother after school. When she turned 12 she dropped out of school to supplement her family’s income. “I had just completed grade 6. My parents were facing financial difficulties and could no longer afford to keep me in school. I had no choice,” she says.

Five years since, Munni has processed thousands of kilos of tobacco with her bare hands for up to 14 hours - every single day of her life. She and her 35-year-old mother Gausiya must roll 2000 beedis each day to earn less than 4 US dollars. “I am stressed all day to meet this target,” she says. Come holiday, festival or even illness, Munni works every day. “We have no choice. If we don’t work we won’t be able to survive,” she says.

With their wages linked to meeting the target in multiples of 1000 beedis, Munni does not have a moment to spare. Squatting in one position for hours, she deftly rolls beedis with the speed and precision of a robot in an assembly line. “Even when we are talking to each other our hands are still busy,” she says.   

Deprived of the chance to continue her education and pulled into hazardous labour Munni still considers herself lucky that she can at least read and write. Her elder sister, who is 20 and already married with a child, was not even sent to school. “She rolled beedis full-time from when she was 6 or 7 years old due to our financial situation. I don’t even remember if they even played as young girls,” says Gausiya. Life continues to be the same for Gausiya’s elder daughter even after marriage. She now rolls beedis to support her husband’s family.

Munni says she feels totally exhausted. “There is no respite from this work from morning to evening. My legs ache, my arms also hurt. I cannot sit straight nor stand properly. I do this work but would never wish this upon anyone,” she says. For Munni the punishing regime of rolling beedis is also the only way she can save money for her dowry.

“We went totally broke marrying off our elder daughter not very long ago and now we are worried about Munni. We have to save for her dowry too,” says Gausiya. Munni is unsure if she will be able to break free from the economic slavery she finds herself trapped in after her marriage. “I don’t want to work but if my husband says I have to, I won’t have any alternative.”

She cannot even bear to think of her children getting pulled into tobacco trade. “I will never allow my children to roll beedis. It must end with me. It must not continue.”