When a kitchen garden can stop a child marriage

Elati Bai stands outside her home holding 1,500 rupees. She earned the money herself. Behind her stands her son, recently home from school.

Just a few years ago, neither the money nor the school day existed. The family lived day to day. The children had to work, not learn.

Now the income comes from a small kitchen garden, just 12 square meters. Here, Elati grows 15 different types of fruits and vegetables, three times a year. It provides nutritious food for the family and a small surplus to sell. It creates room to choose differently.

“Now I can send my children to school instead of making them work,” she says.

A life decided from the start

In the hills of Barwani in Central India lie 747 villages, home mainly to Scheduled Tribes, one of the most marginalised groups in the country.

When Anupa Madharia and her husband Praveen Gokhale founded the organisation Pahal Jan Sahayog Vikas Sansthan in 2003, they quickly realised that child marriage was not a single issue, but part of a cycle passed down from generation to generation.

“Girls are brought up to be a bride. That’s what they are taught. Their own dreams and ambitions come second,” Anupa explains.

She continues:

“From the age of five, girls learn to cook, take care of siblings, manage the household and prepare for marriage. They learn that boys come first, that education is for them, and that girls belong at home. It is deep-rooted gender discrimination that has lasted for generations.”

In this system, girls were married off while still children — some as young as eight. They became pregnant before their bodies were fully developed and gave birth to children who started life with the same disadvantages. A common factor among both women and children was malnutrition.

“Malnutrition is passed from one generation to the next. It doesn’t stop on its own,” says Anupa.

From experience to method

The work in Barwani is part of a collaboration between Pahal in India, ASPADA in Bangladesh and Krousar Yoeung Association (KrY) in Cambodia. While operating in different countries, they face the same challenges: malnutrition, poverty and low use of health services.

With support from Norec, the organisations have exchanged staff, knowledge and experience since 2021.

The aim has been to find solutions that work in everyday life, and that can break the link between malnutrition, child marriage and child labour.

“We learn from each other and adapt the methods to our own communities,” says Praveen.

A key part of Pahal’s approach is not starting with ready-made solutions.

“We don’t tell them what the problem is. We facilitate a process, where the community identifies their own challenges,” he says

“They have to be part of the solution. Otherwise it won’t last. Otherwise it won’t be theirs,” Anupa adds.

This process helped Pahal identify malnutrition and lack of health knowledge as root causes of many problems. They work closely with local authorities, helping close the gap between public services and the communities they are meant to reach, acting as a bridge between the two.

“Everything is connected: education, child marriage, child labour, gender discrimination, early pregnancy, poverty — and a lack of knowledge and widespread misinformation,” Anupa explains.

She gives one example:

In many communities, people believed that women died in childbirth because the baby was too large. Pregnant women therefore ate less, hoping to have smaller babies. The result was the opposite. Girls who were still children entered pregnancy malnourished, and both mother and child became weaker. When a child is born into a family with limited food and a fragile economy, malnutrition continues, and children often have to work instead of going to school.

“This is not just about poverty. It’s about major gaps in knowledge and awareness, and it cannot be solved with a single intervention,” she says.

Unconventional methods

This way of working has not only affected communities, but also the organisations themselves. Around 150 key staff have been trained in the method, and the knowledge has been passed on to approximately 1,000 employees and over 5,000 volunteers.

Using unconventional methods, they are able to get the message across — even to those who cannot read or write. They use illustrations, puppet theatre, street theatre, training sessions and dedicated groups for men, women and youth.

In Barwani, the approach has led to concrete results.

“We had to find solutions that people could actually use. Solutions that don’t require money,” says Anupa.

Kitchen gardens became one such solution. Knowledge from ASPADA in Bangladesh made it possible to grow a wider variety of food on small plots with limited water, without pesticides, adapted to an increasingly unpredictable climate.

Where families once grew two or three types of vegetables, they now grow up to 15, several times a year. It means more food, better food, and a small income.

For Elati, it means 1,500 rupees in hand — money she can use to send her children to school.

But the kitchen garden alone does not explain the change.

“Women are the key. They are the ones who can break the cycle,” says Anupa.

Women as the key to change

Through the collaboration with ASPADA, women-led savings and loan groups have become a central part of the work. In Bangladesh, more than 12,000 women are organised into 40 such groups, and the experience has been adapted in Barwani.

What started as small savings groups has grown into an important structure in the villages. Women meet regularly, save money, lend to each other and talk about daily life and their own health. Over time, the groups have also become platforms for knowledge about nutrition, finances, health and rights.

“When women come together, they start asking questions. That’s where change begins. Through these groups, women gain both financial room to act and a sense of community. They are no longer alone in the choices they make,” says Anupa.

Youth groups are also a key focus.

Sourn Chan, an exchange participant from Cambodia, has spent the past year working with youth groups to get more children back into school. Together with Pahal volunteers, he has gone door-to-door, speaking with parents about the importance of education.

“At the beginning of the year, we identified 275 children who were not in school. After six months, 233 of them had enrolled,” he says.

When the cycle begins to break

The methods are delivering results. Previously, 70 per cent of women gave birth at home; now the number has dropped to 40 per cent. Girls who were once married between the ages of eight and nine are now married later — often between 14 and 16. More children are going to school instead of working.

“The legal age of marriage is 18, so we still have a long way to go. We teach the girls that they have the right to have a dream and the capability to fulfil their dreams,” Anupa says.

Pahal also works with local authorities to provide information about health services, vaccinations and clinics. Increasingly, pregnant women use these services instead of relying on traditional healers.

But for Anupa, the numbers are not the most important thing. What matters is that the cycle is beginning to break.

“When families have enough food, they become less vulnerable. When they have an income, children don’t have to work. Then they can go to school. And when girls go to school, they are more likely to delay marriage and childbirth. Education brings knowledge and opportunities.”

She pauses.

“A kitchen garden cannot stop a child marriage on its own. But it changes what is possible. And once you know you have a choice, it’s hard to go back.”