In a Jail of My Own Creation

1st March 2025, Saturday
Dear Diary,

Thirty-five months in these four-walled nightmares, and looking back, I barely survived the first month. The happiest and most memorable moment of my life turned into my worst downfall. April 2nd, 2022 (Corrected year based on the 35-month timeframe), the day I celebrated the most – my daughter Lena’s marriage. Lena is 24 and the oldest among my 5 daughters. It was a dream – not just for me, but for our family to hold a wedding, as it was the first major celebration in the family.

I had borrowed 35,000 Egyptian pounds for Lena’s marriage. The groom’s family had put in their fair share as well. We were well aware that the amount had exceeded our budget by a huge margin; however, we decided to somehow repay the loans by working extra hours. I clean houses for a living, and my husband is a yarn seller. It is quite evident that our cash flow is highly unstable, especially trying to sustain a family of 7. Nevertheless, the wedding was a grand success. Lena could not have been happier, and as a proud mother, I could not stop wiping away those happy tears!

“Mom, there are some officials at the door looking for you” – the last words I heard from my child in our home. The minute I opened the door, I knew exactly what was going on. I took one last glimpse at the house - the out-of-place furniture, the worn-out doorframes, and most importantly, the confused looks of my children as I was being dragged away. Tears blurred my vision as I looked across my neighbourhood one last time.

Is it a crime to have been born in such unfortunate circumstances? Is it a crime to celebrate my daughter’s happiness? But all this time I have spent here has made me contemplate. Maybe I should have listened to our neighbour, Moana. She repaid all her loans by joining the Tahweesh initiative. When I first heard of it, I thought it was bogus! The idea of a group of strangers who had debts helping each other repay them sounded like a huge joke to me.

It was a crime for me to think that way. Moana has new clothes to change into. Moana feeds her children regularly and sends them to school. Moana started her own handmade jewellery business after clearing all her debts. I could barely manage to do even one of these things during my time with the family. I don’t know if my children hate me. They visit me often, but I still wonder – am I a mother in their eyes or a villain?

Microfinance was a topic that was very new to me. I knew people in marginalised communities made use of it, but I was not aware of the extent to which it helped people. It was so cruel of me to doubt this initiative – because who could motivate me better than the people who had been in the same situation as me?

My reflections are late, and my regrets have already piled up. Family visits now consist mostly of me explaining the importance of MFIs to my children, rather than reliving the emotional turmoil I went through during my early confinement days. My children should never have to go through such a phase in their lives. As a matter of fact, no one should!

If only I had been more motivated to get myself involved in self-help groups. If only I had found a stable source of employment by attending the financial literacy classes that happened monthly near my town. If only I could lie down in the arms of my 5 daughters and plan out each of their weddings without any worries.

If only I could change my clothes and go back home.