Child Brides

Once upon a time in Cyprus young girls were married off at a very young age and often against their will. During the last 12 years I have been blessed to have met and interviewed many elderly Cypriot women who have kindly shared their own stories and experiences about their arranged marriages with me. Today, I’d like to share one such story.

THE HOLE IN THE WALL – as told by Eleni (aged eighty-nine).

My father invited many men to our house to try to arrange my marriage to one of their sons.

I remember one particular man that came to our house. He was from the village of Droushia. I remember him well. A most unattractive man. Apparently, he was a gambler and a troublemaker. I have no idea why my father thought he would be a good prospect for me. I was only 15 at the time and this man was probably 25.

Anyway, on the day this man arrived with his parents I was out with my friends and cousins collecting wild mushrooms in the fields. We had filled our baskets with mushrooms and when I returned home I saw the matchmaker and some other people standing in the courtyard of our house.

My dear mother (God bless her), who knew what was going on said to me. “Why don’t you go next door to visit your Aunt Tallou. I heard she is making katimerhka (sweet pastries) and you can eat them fresh.” I didn’t know at the time that my dear mother was trying to shield me from the visitors.

My Aunt Tallou’s house and my mother’s house were joined together. There was a small opening on the adjoining wall of the two buildings. A hole in the wall. My mother and Aunt Tallou would often use this hole in the wall to pass food to one another or ingredients for cooking. Anyway, there I was kneeling down near the hole in the wall and I could hear my father welcoming the guests from Droushia into our home. He was saying. “Come in. Sit down, my daughter Eleni will be home soon. She has just gone to collect some mushrooms.” He then offered the guests some wine and mezzes (snacks).

After a while I heard the matchmaker say to my father, “Let us sing the matchmaker’s song. Perhaps your daughter will hear us singing and come home.”

My Aunt Tallou saw me crouching near the hole in the wall and said to me. “Don’t you know who these people are? They have come from Droushia to ask for your hand in marriage. The man singing is the matchmaker.”

I was shocked. “Me? They have come to ask for me? I exclaimed. “They must be mad. And my own father has invited them into our home. God have mercy. That man (the suitor) is the worst person in the world.”

“And how do you know that?” my Aunt asked.

“How do I know? How do I know?” I answered sternly. “I have seen him at the village festivals. I’ve seen what he gets up to. Besides my brother has told me that he is always gambling and drinking at the kafenion (coffee house).”

Once I realised that the guests were in no hurry to leave I decided I’d better return home. As soon as I entered the room where my parents and the guests were all sitting, the mother of the prospective groom jumped out of her seat with open arms and shrieked, “Welcome my koukla mou (my doll), welcome my koukla mou.” Her son just sat there with his head hung low. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look up.

I nodded politely at the guests and then turned to my mother and said. “Mother, I have to go somewhere with my cousin. I’ll be back later.”

“Where are you going?” my father bellowed. I could see he was both annoyed and embarrassed.

“Father, we promised the dressmaker that we would visit her at this time so that she can take measurements to sew our new dresses,” I lied. “We have bought the fabric already. It would be rude to keep her waiting.”

Although I did have plans to take fabric to the dressmaker it was untrue that the dressmaker was waiting for me on this particular day. Anyway, my little lie was enough to get me out of the house and away from the matchmaker and that idiot suitor.

Unfortunately, when I returned home from the dressmaker a few hours later, I was shocked to see that the visitors were still there, inside my home. ‘Will they never leave’ I thought to myself. I caught sight of my mother and waved for her to come outside where I stood waiting.

“Mother,” I told her firmly. “Go and tell them to leave right now. I don’t want to see this man. I don’t even want to see his shadow.”

My mother looked perplexed. “Your father will get upset,” she said softly. “He will beat you if you disobey him.”

“My father will beat me!” I whispered back firmly. “My father has never beaten me once in my life and you think he will beat me now. It’s your fault mother. It’s your fault for letting these people into our house with their useless son. You should never have allowed that!”

My mother was speechless. I then turned and walked back to my Aunt Tallou’s house. I settled down on the floor next to the hole in the wall together with my cousin and listened to the conversation coming from the adjoining room. It was all we could do.

We could hear the guests and the matchmaker conversing with my anxious parents as they waited patiently for my return.

I could hear the prospective groom’s mother telling my parents, “I am sure your daughter is a sweet girl. If only she was here to meet my son so she can see what a good match he is for her.”

Then my mother spoke up. “Listen my dear woman!” she said. “My daughter is a very strong-minded girl. She’s not scared to speak her mind. In fact, if she was here right now I am certain she will ask you all to leave. I know my daughter. So please, do not take offence. Go home now, with the blessing of the Virgin Mary.”

Unfortunately, the guests did not move. They insisted that they would wait for my return home. My father kept filling their glasses with wine and my poor mother was instructed to keep serving them food.

I sat kneeling besides the hole in the wall with my cousin listening to the conversation all afternoon. At times we giggled, and laughed. At times we just looked at each other in wild disbelief at what we were hearing.

When I noticed my mother standing near the hole on the other side of the wall, I leaned in closer and whispered to her. “Mother, I have to go and visit Anou down the road. She needs my help to interpret a letter that has arrived from her husband who as you know is working in Limassol. She is expecting me to come right now.”

This was another lie. I was stalling for time; hoping that these guests will get tired of waiting for me and leave.

My mother did not protest or try to stop me. I believe she understood my reasons for staying away and was therefore very supportive. After all, when she was my age she was forced to marry my father and she did not have a say in the matter. No, no, no. God forbid. Women were forced to do as they were told back in those days. My generation was different. As young girls we had heard stories about the demands and heartaches that would sometimes occur with a forced marriage. We had heard stories of husbands mistreating and even beating their wives. We kept all these stories in our heads so when it was our turn – we had a voice. Unlike my poor mother, I was not afraid to speak my mind. I was lucky that my father was not too authoritarian; nor was he a hot head. I believe he wanted what was right for me.

And so I left to visit Anou, not to translate a letter but just to hide there for a while. When I returned home a few hours later I was shocked to discover that the guests were still at my house. I couldn’t believe it. ‘Will these people never leave.’ I tiptoed past my house and back inside the safety of my Aunt Tallou’s house. I leaned up against the hole in the wall and told my mother. “I will stay here tonight. I will sleep here tonight. You can tell your guests that I am not coming home.”

I could tell my mother was feeling exhausted. “Why do you want to sleep at Tallou’s house?” she asked. “You never want to sleep at her house.”

“If you tell the guests to go home then I will come home to sleep.” I replied.

I don’t know if my mother heard my request through the hole in the wall. I could hear my father calling her name to come and serve more food to the guests.

I decided to grab a few blankets and a pillow and together with my cousin, we climbed the steps up onto the roof of my aunt’s mudbrick house where we made our bed under the stars. Below, we could hear my father trying desperately to entertain the guests.

I can’t tell you how many hours the guests from Droushia stayed at my house that day. I know they drank and ate a lot. I am sure that by the time I had fallen asleep on the roof of Tallou’s house, they must have given up any hope that I would return back home. I am also sure they knew that I would never agree to marry their deadbeat son. I found out later that he just sat there, mute like an obedient dog the whole time? Why would I agree to marry such a man?

When I returned home the next morning, my mother told me that the guests were content to wait all night for me to return back home. It wasn’t until she finally confessed to them that I had fallen asleep at my Aunt Tallou’s house when they finally got up to leave.

When my father came home from the ‘mundra’ (goat pen) that morning and saw me sitting there with my mother, I could tell he was still upset. “Why did you do that?” he asked softly. “Why did you stay away? Where would you meet another man like him? Where would you meet such a hardworking man like him?

“Father!” I said to him. “I would rather marry a goat herder. You are a goat herder and you married my mother. So I too will marry a goat herder” My comment caused my mother to shriek out in laughter. My father relaxed and smiled. “What did I do to earn such a strong-willed and strong-minded daughter?”

Days later, I did hear that the man from Droushia went around his village telling everybody that I really wanted to marry him but it was my mother who didn’t want him. Can you believe this ‘vlaka’ (idiot)? If it weren’t for my mother he told people, I would have surely agreed to marry him.

‘What an idiot.”