Abolished, Not Erased: The Lingering Scars of Nigerian Women Traded for Debt

The hills of Cross River State in Nigeria have long held a painful secret: the practice of pledging young girls as collateral for debts, a custom that has now been abolished but whose scars linger deeply.

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I was given out as a nine year old bride to my late husband. I think he was 95 years when he passed on four years ago. But I am still bound to his family since my father’s debt has not been settled.

This deeply disturbing tradition, detailed in a recent report, saw children, often unborn, promised to creditors. Their childhoods were traded, and their futures mortgaged before they even drew their first breath. The case of Mirabel Ochu is a stark illustration. Promised as repayment for a debt incurred by her parents, she was married off at the tender age of nine to a man more than eight decades her senior. Her cries for help were met with the silence of a community bound by tradition and desperation.

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It is an experience I will not like my fellow ladies to pass through, not even my own child. I recall him calling me ‘my wife’ as a baby but never really understood what was going on then. I eventually got a clearer picture of the whole thing when he came to pick me up when I was nine.

For nearly 15 years, Ochu endured a life of forced marriage, abuse, and servitude. Her dreams of becoming a nurse were shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of a life she never chose. Her story, marked by confusion followed by pain, highlights the profound injustice inflicted upon these young girls, whose voices carried no weight in a system that valued debt repayment over human dignity.

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When I first saw the man, I didn’t like him because he was very old. So, I told my mum that I cannot be sleeping with this kind of man at this my age.

While the practice has been officially abolished, the report underscores that the suffering of survivors like Ochu continues. They remain bound by the unresolved debts of their families and the societal expectations that follow them, even after the death of their husbands. The lingering silence in these hills is a testament to the enduring trauma and the long road to healing for those who survived this brutal custom.

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I remember asking my mother how old the debt was. But I was told it was long before I was even born. You may not completely believe me when I tell you all I passed through at times.