I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced

“Poor people are so hungry that they’ve got stones where their hearts should be, and no time to feel pity for the fates of others.” 

Nujood reflects on the numbing effects of poverty on the citizens of Sana’a, noting that it hardens them to the struggles of others. She ruminates on this in the context of her father’s struggles with unemployment and the lack of help she receives from others in general. 

“I’m a simple village girl whose family had to move to the capital, and I have always obeyed the orders of my father and brothers. Since forever, I have learned to say yes to everything. Today I have decided to say no.” 

Nujood’s statement demonstrates her awareness of the patriarchal culture in which she grew up and that she is making a conscious decision to act against it. The statement betrays some anger and bitterness as well as the strength of her resolve. 

“In Khardji, the village where I was born, women are not taught how to make choices.” 

Nujood reflects again on the patriarchal culture in which she was raised, noting that this is a hallmark of the remote village in which she was born. She uses this as a way of explaining her mother, who has been resigned and obedient to this culture all of her life. 

“[T]he urban landscape becomes a vulgar confusion of dismal concrete buildings. Out in the street, I was exactly on a level with all the exhaust pipes belching diesel fumes, which made my throat sore.” 

Nujood describes the harsh transition from living in a remote village in northern Yemen and being surrounded by no more than five small houses, to moving to the capital city of Sana’a. Although she initially dislikes the city, over time, she becomes fond of it and its urbanity, and she comes to see it as home.  

“Abruptly, I have the feeling that of the two of us, he is the one who’s flinching.” 

The judges at the courthouse in Sana’a are shocked at Nujood’s age and her request for a divorce. When they press her for details regarding her situation, they are stunned and almost more uncomfortable than Nujood herself. This situation underscores the idea that child marriage is a potent taboo. 

“They both explain to me that in Yemen girls are frequently married off quite young, before the legal age of fifteen. An ancient tradition, adds Judge Abdo. But to his knowledge, none of these precocious marriages had ever ended in divorce-because no little girl has, until now, showed up at a courthouse. A question of family honor, it seems. My situation is most exceptional, and complicated.”

Nujood becomes a catalyst for change because she is the first to challenge the practice of child marriage by seeking legal help in order to obtain a divorce. In that sense, she is exceptional. Given that this is a long-standing tradition in Yemeni society and is wrapped up with the issue of family honor, the judges recognize that winning her case will be difficult. 

“‘Yes, but that was in the time of the Prophet. Now, things are different.’” 

Nujood’s father justifies her child marriage to a much old man by invoking a custom from the time of the Prophet Muhammad. His daughter and Nujood’s older sister, Mona, reminds him that this was centuries ago and the world is now a different place. In this instance, the father serves as the voice of tradition while Mona other serves as the voice of modernity. In the end, the matter is up to Nujood’s father. 

“The stranger sat all the way in the back, next to his brother. I felt a little better not having to look at his face during our long ride, but I could feel his eyes on me, and it gave me shivers. Who was he, actually? Why had he wanted to marry me? What was he expecting of me? And marriage—what exactly did that mean?” 

Nujood underscores how discomfiting and jarring her sudden marriage was. She refers to her new husband as a stranger and is deeply uncomfortable with being in the same car with him and his family as they travel back to the village of Khardji. She expresses confusion regarding his motivations but also, at the concept of marriage at large, demonstrating that she is a child and unprepared for such a burden.

“I would rather have never awakened.” 

In a simple sentence, Nujood forewarns of the horror that she is forced to endure after coming to the village of Khardji with her new husband. Despite the fact that he has promised to multiple people not to touch her before she reaches puberty, he sexually assaults her immediately. 

“Yet in spite of all this kind attention, my nights are still very uneasy, because as soon as I fall asleep, I feel as though the storm were lying in wait for me, and if I close my eyes for too long, the door might fly open again, and the monster return.” 

Nujood gives a glimpse into her post-traumatic stress following her abuse at the hands of her husband and mother-in-law. Despite the fact that she manages to escape from them and get help and shelter from her lawyer and judges in Sana’a, she continues to experience nightmares and live in fear. 

“With her, I feel for the first time the maternal tenderness my mother, too preoccupied by all her family worries, did not know how-or rather, had no time-to give me.” 

Nujood finds solace and comfort in her lawyer, Shada, who comes to serve as a surrogate mother for her. She is able to provide her with the motherly care that her own mother, Omma Shoya, did not. Rather than blaming her for this, Nujood recognizes that her mother was overextended and overburdened. 

“Their voices buzz in my tired ears, and I feel small, so small. I’ve lost control of my body, my movements. I’m cold on the outside, but inside, I’m burning. It’s as if there were something dirty in me. I’m angry, but can’t manage to put my anger into words […] Why, why me? And why didn’t anyone warn me about what was going to happen to me? Whatever did I do to deserve this?” 

Nujood’s deep distress and anguish following the sexual assault by her husband is clear in this passage. She feels a lack of control over her body as well as her emotional state. In this moment, she feels great anger towards her parents for abandoning and marrying her off. She also feels even more helpless and confused than she did upon being married. 

“‘If you divorce your husband, my brothers and cousins will kill me. Sharaf, honor, comes first. Honor! Do you understand?’ No, I didn’t understand, and I couldn’t understand.” 

When Nujood asks for her family’s help in getting away from her husband and obtaining a divorce, her father angrily refuses. To him, the primary issue is that of honor. Despite the fact that Nujood understands the patriarchal nature of the society in which she is raised, she cannot understand how honor is more important than her dismal situation. In this case, her father is the voice of tradition, while she serves as the voice of modernity and change.

“I would never have imagined stirring up so much interest. Me! A silent victim for so many months, suddenly propelled into the spotlight, facing all these journalists.” 

Nujood marvels at the media campaign that Shada has been able to orchestrate to help her case and the number of journalists in attendance for her divorce trial. This underscores the idea of child marriages as an unchallenged taboo and the novelty and importance of Nujood’s case. She is no longer a silent victim but the catalyst for change and the face of a movement against child marriage. 

“[B]ut Shada remains marvelously calm. She doesn’t even blink. This woman has a strength of character that astounds me. She doesn’t need to wave her arms all around to express her feelings […] That look is enough. I’ve learned a lot from her, these past few days.” 

Nujood expresses admiration for her lawyer Shada not just as a motherly figure who has provided her with care and comfort, but as an inspirational professional woman. She draws correct behavior from her and seeks to emulate this. Although Nujood may not have been fully informed of this at the time, Shada seems to have been a target for those opposed to her support of women’s rights and cases such as Nujood’s. 

“My eyes are shining, as if they were discovering for the first time the slightest bits of beauty in being alive. I feel happy. This is the best day of my life.” 

Nujood’s ebullience is her reaction to finally obtaining her divorce. In this moment, she is thrilled at the new clothing given to her by Shada and looking forward to getting compliments on her uncovered hair. She confides that she is experiencing everything anew after finally obtaining her freedom, and many of the things she experiences put her back in the realm of childhood, such as eating ice cream and petting animals. 

“How many times, with my nose pressed to the boutique windows, had I dreamed about a wedding celebration with presents and evening gowns? Things hadn’t turned out that way. Compared to dreams, reality can be truly cruel. But it can also come up with beautiful surprises.” 

At the surprise party thrown for her at the Yemen Times newspaper, Nujood reflects on her turbulent year, her marriage, and her divorce. While she has experienced horrible abuse in her marriage and been disillusioned in that arena, she remembers that her trials have brought pleasant surprises such as new friends, a birthday party, gifts, and freedom. In this instance, she perceives things as more balanced. 

“Actually, we all seem to be pretending to have forgotten what happened. For the moment, it’s better that way.” 

Nujood describes the situation after she returns to her home and family. On the surface, the family has glossed over recent events and Nujood’s divorce and marriage. On the other hand, she reveals the tension that exists below the surface, particularly as she is still angry with and resentful of her father. She notes here that there are no shelters for young girls like her in Yemen, so in some ways, she had no option but to return home. 

“It was in thinking about his impetuous energy that I’d found the strength, in April, to run away to the courthouse. His escape had given me the courage to fly with my own wings. I feel I owe him something. Fares, beaten, no-that isn’t like him. I would never have imagined that he would give up. It makes me sick at heart. One day I must manage to help him in turn. I don’t really know how, but in the end, I’ll find a way.” 

Nujood is surprised and disappointed by the fact that her favorite brother, Fares, has returned home from Saudi Arabia disillusioned and dejected. Because it was his spirit and rebellion that inspired and emboldened her own, she resolves to return the favor in the future. 

“Instead, I’ve been dreaming about school, like a wish you say boldly out loud, hoping it will finally come true.” 

Nujood reveals that instead of experiencing the usual nightmares as a result of her post-traumatic stress, she has begun to excitedly dream about school, pencils, notebooks, and fellow pupils. As she reveals earlier in the book that school had always been her refuge, going back to school after her ordeal serves as a sort of return to childhood but also a bid for the future, as she hopes to learn and become a lawyer like Shada.

“When I awoke this morning around five o’clock, for the first prayer of the day, I thanked God for not abandoning me these last few months. I asked him to help me remain in good health and have a successful year in primary school. I also prayed for help for Aba and Omma, for them to earn some money so that my brothers can stop begging in the streets, and Fares can smile again the way he used to.” 

Nujood reveals that some of her troubles have not vanished after her divorce. Her family is still poor, and she hopes that some income may better the situation for her brothers. She notes that if education was compulsory in Yemen, they would not have to beg on the streets regularly. This quote also reveals the extent to which Nujood remains family-oriented and continues to care for their wellbeing. 

“I’m going to have to tell my story again. Over and over. And once again, my face will freeze when we get to those personal questions I always find so painful to answer. And that anguish I try hard to stifle will well up deep in my heart. All of a sudden, the bell rings. Saved!” 

At various points in the book, Nujood reveals that she is uncomfortable with the attention that she has received and the fact that she has to recount her horrible ordeal over and over. In this instance, she is literally saved by the school bell from having to talk to yet another journalist. This reinforces her idea of school as a place of refuge. 

“I’ve made up my mind. When I grow up, I’ll be a lawyer, like Shada, to defend other little girls like me. If I can, I’ll propose that the legal age of marriage be raised to eighteen. Or twenty. Or even twenty-two! I will have to be strong and tenacious. I must learn not to be afraid of looking men right in the eye when I speak to them. In fact, one of these days I’ll have to get up enough courage to tell Aba that I don’t agree with him when he says that, after all, the Prophet married Aïsha when she was only nine years old. Like Shada, I will wear high heels and I will not cover my face. The niqab-you can’t breathe under it!” 

Nujood reveals that the new experiences she has had on account of her public divorce have opened up her eyes to new possibilities. While she was ready to challenge patriarchal gender norms and demand justice in the form of a divorce initially, this came in the form of a personal rebellion as a reaction to a horrific ordeal. After her divorce, she is ready to make this a life goal and to make decisions for herself that will surely conflict with existing societal and gender norms.