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Spotlight

A selection of stories from across the Federation

2024 trends
Story

What does the year 2024 hold for us?

As the new year begins, we take a look at the trends and challenges ahead for sexual and reproductive health and rights.
Dahide, a mother and trainee tailor in Togo
story

| 25 February 2019

“I want to use it for a couple of years and then maybe we will think about having another child”

  Every three months, Mawoula Dahide meets a community health worker in her village in central Togo to receive a single contraceptive injection and then carries on with her busy day. Dahide, 20, has a two-and-a-half year old son and a husband living in the capital and juggles an apprenticeship in tailoring with caring for her child. After recovering from the birth, Dahide tried the injection and immediately felt relief, knowing she would decide when she got pregnant again. “I want to use it for a couple of years and then maybe we will think about having another child,” she said.   Lack of access  Until 2013, Dahide and the other women living in the village of Ilama had no access to regular contraception at all, and its use was sometimes regarded with suspicion, and even fear. In her community, the average age of a mother’s first pregnancy is around 16, and women might bear a total of six or seven children compared to the national average of 4.7, according to local health workers. That trend is changing with a pioneering programme run by the Association Togolaise pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF), which has trained community health workers to administer contraception in the rural areas where they live. ATBEF has focused their distribution of contraceptives within poor and rural communities, and with mobile outreach clinics that go to villages with no trained health workers. The unmet need for contraception in Togo stands at 34% of the population, and in rural communities, this is even higher.  The association contributes a fifth of overall contraception cover to couples in Togo, a West Africa nation of 7.8 million people. There is a clear favourite among the methods offered, which include male and female condoms, the pill, and the contraceptive injection. “The injection is more used than any other method. Around 60% of women use it,” said Félicité Sonhaye, ATBEF Regional Coordinator for Togo’s Plateaux region, which covers Ilama. Women appreciate the reliability and long-lasting effects of the injection, Sonhaye added, which allow them to stop worrying about unexpected pregnancies.   From client to advocate Dahide has become an advocate for the method among her peers within her community. “My friends are getting the injection as well. I was the first to start using it and it was great, so I told them about it,” she said. Another convert to the injection is Ilama’s village chief, Sossou Sagna. The father of seven agreed with his wife they didn’t want anymore children.  “I sent my own wife to seek family planning. The lady helped us and it worked really well. I also went with my older brother’s wife and she was very satisfied,” Sagna noted in the cool of the shade.  “My wife chose the three-month injection,” he added. Sagna had not anticipated some of the wider effects of increasing contraceptive use within the community, which have become prevalent over the last couple of years. “Every member of this community is now aware that having a large family drives them towards poverty,” he said. Families have more money to spend feeding and educating their children in an economy where the cost of living keeps rising. Villagers who see Sagna attending family planning sessions are also convinced that rumours about contraception making them ill are untrue. “Ignorance was the reason why we had so many children per family here before. Now with the family planning advice we have received, spacing births has become a reality and the reduction of the number of children per family,” he added. The gains of the ATBEF rural programme will now go even further with the imminent introduction of Sayana Press, a contraceptive injection that women can self-administer.   Learn more about some of the most popular contraception methods available and if they are right for you    Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF

Dahide, a mother and trainee tailor in Togo
story

| 29 March 2024

“I want to use it for a couple of years and then maybe we will think about having another child”

  Every three months, Mawoula Dahide meets a community health worker in her village in central Togo to receive a single contraceptive injection and then carries on with her busy day. Dahide, 20, has a two-and-a-half year old son and a husband living in the capital and juggles an apprenticeship in tailoring with caring for her child. After recovering from the birth, Dahide tried the injection and immediately felt relief, knowing she would decide when she got pregnant again. “I want to use it for a couple of years and then maybe we will think about having another child,” she said.   Lack of access  Until 2013, Dahide and the other women living in the village of Ilama had no access to regular contraception at all, and its use was sometimes regarded with suspicion, and even fear. In her community, the average age of a mother’s first pregnancy is around 16, and women might bear a total of six or seven children compared to the national average of 4.7, according to local health workers. That trend is changing with a pioneering programme run by the Association Togolaise pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF), which has trained community health workers to administer contraception in the rural areas where they live. ATBEF has focused their distribution of contraceptives within poor and rural communities, and with mobile outreach clinics that go to villages with no trained health workers. The unmet need for contraception in Togo stands at 34% of the population, and in rural communities, this is even higher.  The association contributes a fifth of overall contraception cover to couples in Togo, a West Africa nation of 7.8 million people. There is a clear favourite among the methods offered, which include male and female condoms, the pill, and the contraceptive injection. “The injection is more used than any other method. Around 60% of women use it,” said Félicité Sonhaye, ATBEF Regional Coordinator for Togo’s Plateaux region, which covers Ilama. Women appreciate the reliability and long-lasting effects of the injection, Sonhaye added, which allow them to stop worrying about unexpected pregnancies.   From client to advocate Dahide has become an advocate for the method among her peers within her community. “My friends are getting the injection as well. I was the first to start using it and it was great, so I told them about it,” she said. Another convert to the injection is Ilama’s village chief, Sossou Sagna. The father of seven agreed with his wife they didn’t want anymore children.  “I sent my own wife to seek family planning. The lady helped us and it worked really well. I also went with my older brother’s wife and she was very satisfied,” Sagna noted in the cool of the shade.  “My wife chose the three-month injection,” he added. Sagna had not anticipated some of the wider effects of increasing contraceptive use within the community, which have become prevalent over the last couple of years. “Every member of this community is now aware that having a large family drives them towards poverty,” he said. Families have more money to spend feeding and educating their children in an economy where the cost of living keeps rising. Villagers who see Sagna attending family planning sessions are also convinced that rumours about contraception making them ill are untrue. “Ignorance was the reason why we had so many children per family here before. Now with the family planning advice we have received, spacing births has become a reality and the reduction of the number of children per family,” he added. The gains of the ATBEF rural programme will now go even further with the imminent introduction of Sayana Press, a contraceptive injection that women can self-administer.   Learn more about some of the most popular contraception methods available and if they are right for you    Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF

Abassa is a community health worker
story

| 20 February 2019

“Some of the young women can’t educate their own children because they had to drop out of school themselves”

Abla Abassa lives in the village of Ilama, population 2,000, in rural central Togo. After waking up early each morning to prepare for the day ahead, she sits down to map out her route. Abassa is a community health worker, and spends her days cycling around Ilama’s dusty streets to visit households who have signed up to an innovative programme that provides contraception in hard-to-reach places. The village is an hour by bumpy dirt track from the regional capital of Atakpamé, and few residents have the time or money to travel into town on a regular basis to refill prescriptions. For years, that meant the women of the community had just one form of protection against pregnancy: avoiding sex altogether. In 2013, Abassa became one of 279 community health workers in the Plateaux region funded by the Association Togolaise pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF), working in two districts where the unmet need for contraception was greatest. Today, Abassa has three different clients, but can deal with as many as five a day. The health worker meets women on their own or with their husbands, and conversation flows about village life before she administers a contraceptive injection, or leaves behind a small pile of condoms.   Reaching those in need She begins the day a few doors down at the home of Essivi Koutchona, a mother of six who has used the contraceptive injection for the last two-and-a-half years. “The community health worker passed by our house one day and explained the method and a bit about the possible side effects,” Koutchona said. “We agreed as a couple that we wanted me to start using the injection”.   Koutchona’s husband, Konou Aboudou, credits Abassa and the ATBEF with improving his marriage, which he said was strained by the rhythm [calendar] method and supporting many young children at once. “Now we can better understand and support our wives. We avoid adultery and pregnancies are planned,” he explained. “Before, people didn’t have a lot of information about contraception. With the project we have undertaken with ATBEF since 2013, the community is now able to space their births,” Abassa said, adding the couple had told her they wished the programmed has started years ago. Togo currently has a fertility rate of 4.7 children per woman, according to the United Nations Statistics Division, but is trying to bring that number down.    Battling misinformation The government faces entrenched attitudes about the value of a large family, and misinformation spread about contraception. A community health worker has two roles: safely providing contraception, but also reassuring women that many of the rumours they have heard that the injection or pill will make them sick are false. “I tell them that side effects come from the product, so if they have an irregular period it’s not because they are ill,” Abassa said, adding it had taken much persuasion over the last five years to reach the point where she was now trusted. Abassa’s next client preferred to meet at the health worker’s home for some privacy. At 45, Adjo Amagna is still having periods and wants to avoid any chance of another pregnancy. “I think I want to go for the injection. I have never used contraception before so I think I will do it for three months to see how it goes,” she said.  After the death of her fifth child, the only baby she had with her second husband, Amagna wants to focus on caring of the four children she has left. She sat down with the health worker and was passed condoms, femidoms and the pill, while Abassa explained how the injection works. After a half hour chat, Amagna agreed to begin the injection on her next visit.   Changes within the community  On the way to see Mawoula Dahide, a 20-year-old with one child, her last client of the day, Abassa reflected on the changes she has seen in the community since her job began. “I have seen the number of children per family going down,” she said. “That’s contraception but also the increasing cost of living, and the fact that these days everyone wants to send their children to school.” The prevalence of contraceptive use was at 17% before the programme began, but with the focus on rural communities this has risen to 23% nationwide, even though not all areas of Togo are covered by dedicated health workers yet. We met Dahide in a quiet corner as she took a short break from an apprenticeship in tailoring.  “It’s pretty tough balancing my son and my apprenticeship. If I had waited to have a kid before starting it would have been a lot easier,” she admitted. “My husband is studying at the university in Lomé so I only see him during the holidays and maybe a few weekends during term time.” Younger women like Dahide are sometimes harder to reach, said Abassa, and have a greater unmet need for contraception in a community where many have their first child around the age of 16. “Some of the young women can’t educate their own children because they had to drop out of school themselves,” the health worker explained, adding her focus was always on recruiting more teenagers to her cause. As she heads home for the day, Abassa waved to clients and neighbours, while wondering who might be on her doorstep looking for advice when she gets there.   Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF

Abassa is a community health worker
story

| 29 March 2024

“Some of the young women can’t educate their own children because they had to drop out of school themselves”

Abla Abassa lives in the village of Ilama, population 2,000, in rural central Togo. After waking up early each morning to prepare for the day ahead, she sits down to map out her route. Abassa is a community health worker, and spends her days cycling around Ilama’s dusty streets to visit households who have signed up to an innovative programme that provides contraception in hard-to-reach places. The village is an hour by bumpy dirt track from the regional capital of Atakpamé, and few residents have the time or money to travel into town on a regular basis to refill prescriptions. For years, that meant the women of the community had just one form of protection against pregnancy: avoiding sex altogether. In 2013, Abassa became one of 279 community health workers in the Plateaux region funded by the Association Togolaise pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF), working in two districts where the unmet need for contraception was greatest. Today, Abassa has three different clients, but can deal with as many as five a day. The health worker meets women on their own or with their husbands, and conversation flows about village life before she administers a contraceptive injection, or leaves behind a small pile of condoms.   Reaching those in need She begins the day a few doors down at the home of Essivi Koutchona, a mother of six who has used the contraceptive injection for the last two-and-a-half years. “The community health worker passed by our house one day and explained the method and a bit about the possible side effects,” Koutchona said. “We agreed as a couple that we wanted me to start using the injection”.   Koutchona’s husband, Konou Aboudou, credits Abassa and the ATBEF with improving his marriage, which he said was strained by the rhythm [calendar] method and supporting many young children at once. “Now we can better understand and support our wives. We avoid adultery and pregnancies are planned,” he explained. “Before, people didn’t have a lot of information about contraception. With the project we have undertaken with ATBEF since 2013, the community is now able to space their births,” Abassa said, adding the couple had told her they wished the programmed has started years ago. Togo currently has a fertility rate of 4.7 children per woman, according to the United Nations Statistics Division, but is trying to bring that number down.    Battling misinformation The government faces entrenched attitudes about the value of a large family, and misinformation spread about contraception. A community health worker has two roles: safely providing contraception, but also reassuring women that many of the rumours they have heard that the injection or pill will make them sick are false. “I tell them that side effects come from the product, so if they have an irregular period it’s not because they are ill,” Abassa said, adding it had taken much persuasion over the last five years to reach the point where she was now trusted. Abassa’s next client preferred to meet at the health worker’s home for some privacy. At 45, Adjo Amagna is still having periods and wants to avoid any chance of another pregnancy. “I think I want to go for the injection. I have never used contraception before so I think I will do it for three months to see how it goes,” she said.  After the death of her fifth child, the only baby she had with her second husband, Amagna wants to focus on caring of the four children she has left. She sat down with the health worker and was passed condoms, femidoms and the pill, while Abassa explained how the injection works. After a half hour chat, Amagna agreed to begin the injection on her next visit.   Changes within the community  On the way to see Mawoula Dahide, a 20-year-old with one child, her last client of the day, Abassa reflected on the changes she has seen in the community since her job began. “I have seen the number of children per family going down,” she said. “That’s contraception but also the increasing cost of living, and the fact that these days everyone wants to send their children to school.” The prevalence of contraceptive use was at 17% before the programme began, but with the focus on rural communities this has risen to 23% nationwide, even though not all areas of Togo are covered by dedicated health workers yet. We met Dahide in a quiet corner as she took a short break from an apprenticeship in tailoring.  “It’s pretty tough balancing my son and my apprenticeship. If I had waited to have a kid before starting it would have been a lot easier,” she admitted. “My husband is studying at the university in Lomé so I only see him during the holidays and maybe a few weekends during term time.” Younger women like Dahide are sometimes harder to reach, said Abassa, and have a greater unmet need for contraception in a community where many have their first child around the age of 16. “Some of the young women can’t educate their own children because they had to drop out of school themselves,” the health worker explained, adding her focus was always on recruiting more teenagers to her cause. As she heads home for the day, Abassa waved to clients and neighbours, while wondering who might be on her doorstep looking for advice when she gets there.   Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF

village leader
story

| 20 February 2019

“I wanted to work with the parents so we can stop marrying off these girls too young”

Komi Agnimavo Amazoun becomes visibly angry when he recalls the phone call telling him a 16-year-old girl was to be married off from his village in central Togo. As the highly respected village chief of Detokpo, a community of a few hundred people, Amazoun had the final say on the union, which later turned out to be the result of an attempted cover-up of a rape.   Forced early marriage “I saw that she was being married off too young. The parents came to see me and I said she was not the right age,” the usually softly spoken elder said. “She didn’t yet have an education or a job” and says the girl is now 18 and has started an apprenticeship in tailoring. Such successful interventions by village chiefs in ending forced early marriage reflects the crucial importance of their involvement in sexual health strategies in the country especially in rural areas. Detakpo is one of 870 villages which have signed Village Girl Protection Charters to stop forced transactional sex in rural communities, in an initiative promoted by the Association Togolaise Pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF). The charters outline prevention measures and rules in line with Togolese law to stop the rape and exploitation of underage girls, who are particularly vulnerable outside urban areas where professional advice and protection are more easily reached.   Working with parents Amazoun has also received training from ATBEF on the law, which bans marriage under 18 without parental consent, and on the use of contraception to prevent underage pregnancy. “We have started to raise awareness in the village so that similar cases won’t be repeated,” Amazoun said, sitting on a plastic chair outside his home. “I wanted to work with the parents so we can stop marrying off these girls too young,” he adds. Although the official rate of marriage under 18 in Togo stands at 22%, according to UNICEF, the true rate is likely much higher, as many weddings are village ceremonies that are never registered with the authorities. “This is a very traditional place with entrenched customs. The problem of sexual violence runs very deep, which means that we have cases upon cases to deal with,” explained Dopo Kakadji, the Director for Social Action in Haho Prefecture. Kakadji oversees sexual violence cases and child protection in the area, mediating disputes over marriage and providing a link between communities and the police when necessary.   The future is looking promising In many households, he said, “the woman cannot make decisions for herself. She is an object that can be used as one likes. A father can exchange a daughter to resolve problems or for money”. However, his interventions, and the creation of youth clubs to inform children of their rights, has seen families increasing willing to denounce rapists publicly.  “Today girls go to school. Things have changed in the last five years, because before the priority was to marry off daughters as soon as possible,” Kakadji noted.   Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF  

village leader
story

| 29 March 2024

“I wanted to work with the parents so we can stop marrying off these girls too young”

Komi Agnimavo Amazoun becomes visibly angry when he recalls the phone call telling him a 16-year-old girl was to be married off from his village in central Togo. As the highly respected village chief of Detokpo, a community of a few hundred people, Amazoun had the final say on the union, which later turned out to be the result of an attempted cover-up of a rape.   Forced early marriage “I saw that she was being married off too young. The parents came to see me and I said she was not the right age,” the usually softly spoken elder said. “She didn’t yet have an education or a job” and says the girl is now 18 and has started an apprenticeship in tailoring. Such successful interventions by village chiefs in ending forced early marriage reflects the crucial importance of their involvement in sexual health strategies in the country especially in rural areas. Detakpo is one of 870 villages which have signed Village Girl Protection Charters to stop forced transactional sex in rural communities, in an initiative promoted by the Association Togolaise Pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF). The charters outline prevention measures and rules in line with Togolese law to stop the rape and exploitation of underage girls, who are particularly vulnerable outside urban areas where professional advice and protection are more easily reached.   Working with parents Amazoun has also received training from ATBEF on the law, which bans marriage under 18 without parental consent, and on the use of contraception to prevent underage pregnancy. “We have started to raise awareness in the village so that similar cases won’t be repeated,” Amazoun said, sitting on a plastic chair outside his home. “I wanted to work with the parents so we can stop marrying off these girls too young,” he adds. Although the official rate of marriage under 18 in Togo stands at 22%, according to UNICEF, the true rate is likely much higher, as many weddings are village ceremonies that are never registered with the authorities. “This is a very traditional place with entrenched customs. The problem of sexual violence runs very deep, which means that we have cases upon cases to deal with,” explained Dopo Kakadji, the Director for Social Action in Haho Prefecture. Kakadji oversees sexual violence cases and child protection in the area, mediating disputes over marriage and providing a link between communities and the police when necessary.   The future is looking promising In many households, he said, “the woman cannot make decisions for herself. She is an object that can be used as one likes. A father can exchange a daughter to resolve problems or for money”. However, his interventions, and the creation of youth clubs to inform children of their rights, has seen families increasing willing to denounce rapists publicly.  “Today girls go to school. Things have changed in the last five years, because before the priority was to marry off daughters as soon as possible,” Kakadji noted.   Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF  

Muna receiving her implant
story

| 15 February 2019

"I’m so happy I now don’t have to worry about contraception for another five years”

In August 2017, weeks of continued and heavy rainfall across Nepal resulted in flash floods and landslides that affected 36 of the 75 districts. Many people lost their homes or were displaced. It was estimated that of those affected, 112,500 were women of reproductive age, including 8,694 pregnant women.  IPPF Humanitarian, through their Member Association, The Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN), activated its emergency response system early on. With funding support from the Australian Government, FPAN and IPPF Humanitarian initially mobilised their response in four of the worst affected districts (Sunsari, Saptari, Bardiya, and Dang). Mobile medical camps were established to meet the sexual and reproductive health needs of the affected population, including through the distribution of short and long acting methods of contraception, STI and HIV screening, and GBV referrals. In collaboration with the USAID-SIFPO project, services were then expanded into five more affected districts. IPPF Humanitarian spoke with 21-year old Muna in her home district of Sunsari in Nepal.  “I got married at 16 years old and have two children, a four-year-old girl and two-year-old boy.  In my caste, we get married early, so my parents took me to get an arranged marriage. I was in the 8th class at the time, and returned to school after I got married, but only lasted one year.  My husband works in construction and had to stop working for two weeks when the floods came. When he doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid, so it’s been very difficult.  A FPAN social worker told me about the mobile medical camp today. I used to be on the three-month injectable but today I changed to the five-year implant in my arm.  When my youngest child was eight months old I found out I was pregnant again. I decided to discontinue that pregnancy, so I took the five small tablets given to me by my neighbourhood doctor. I was two months pregnant at the time.  From this, I had two days bleeding and cramp like pain, and then weakness. I decided to abort that pregnancy because my youngest will still only eight months old, and I didn’t want any more children.  If I had more than two children, it would be very difficult to feed and educate them, and would badly affect my body too. I’m so happy I now don’t have to worry about contraception for another five years.” Want to know more about safe abortion access? Join IPPF'S I Decide movement

Muna receiving her implant
story

| 29 March 2024

"I’m so happy I now don’t have to worry about contraception for another five years”

In August 2017, weeks of continued and heavy rainfall across Nepal resulted in flash floods and landslides that affected 36 of the 75 districts. Many people lost their homes or were displaced. It was estimated that of those affected, 112,500 were women of reproductive age, including 8,694 pregnant women.  IPPF Humanitarian, through their Member Association, The Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN), activated its emergency response system early on. With funding support from the Australian Government, FPAN and IPPF Humanitarian initially mobilised their response in four of the worst affected districts (Sunsari, Saptari, Bardiya, and Dang). Mobile medical camps were established to meet the sexual and reproductive health needs of the affected population, including through the distribution of short and long acting methods of contraception, STI and HIV screening, and GBV referrals. In collaboration with the USAID-SIFPO project, services were then expanded into five more affected districts. IPPF Humanitarian spoke with 21-year old Muna in her home district of Sunsari in Nepal.  “I got married at 16 years old and have two children, a four-year-old girl and two-year-old boy.  In my caste, we get married early, so my parents took me to get an arranged marriage. I was in the 8th class at the time, and returned to school after I got married, but only lasted one year.  My husband works in construction and had to stop working for two weeks when the floods came. When he doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid, so it’s been very difficult.  A FPAN social worker told me about the mobile medical camp today. I used to be on the three-month injectable but today I changed to the five-year implant in my arm.  When my youngest child was eight months old I found out I was pregnant again. I decided to discontinue that pregnancy, so I took the five small tablets given to me by my neighbourhood doctor. I was two months pregnant at the time.  From this, I had two days bleeding and cramp like pain, and then weakness. I decided to abort that pregnancy because my youngest will still only eight months old, and I didn’t want any more children.  If I had more than two children, it would be very difficult to feed and educate them, and would badly affect my body too. I’m so happy I now don’t have to worry about contraception for another five years.” Want to know more about safe abortion access? Join IPPF'S I Decide movement

Young nepalese female farmer, IPPF, FPAN
story

| 25 July 2017

Reproductive health for Nepalese female farmers after the earthquake

Two years after the earthquake that struck Nepal in April 2015, the village of Gatlang in the country’s mountainous north still lies in partial ruin. The houses here are built from enormous slabs of local stone, carved windows and doors, and roofs of stacked wooden planks. They face east towards the rising sun, their facades bedecked in intricate wooden carvings patterns linked to the ancient Buddhist culture of the Tamang people. Today, most of these houses lie in ruin, emptying the heart of the village of people, with most moving to temporary shacks on Gatlang’s fringes. Kopila Tamang is a 24-year-old farmer and mother to two young boys. Her husband, Nakul, works as a lorry driver and is often away. “When the earthquake struck, I was working in the fields,” she says. “If I had been at home, I would have died.” Kopila’s house – or what remains of it – lies at the centre of old Gatlang, on a street of traditional houses that have either entirely collapsed or are uninhabitable due to cracks and structural damage. Piles of stone and wooden cross beams are strewn in what was once a thriving village street. Like many families here, Kopila and her husband and boys have moved into a small shack built from corrugated iron and plastic. This was meant to be a temporary solution, but two years later, they are still living in it, unable to afford the enormous cost of rebuilding their old home. “It needs lots of money,” she says. “I don’t know when we will have the money to build this home again.” FPAN provided emergency health support to families like Kopila’s in the weeks and months after the earthquake. Mobile health camps offered medicines, health check ups, dignity kits, family planning, antenatal checks and other vital services.  These days, Kopila gets regular advice from Pasang Tamang, the FPAN reproductive health female volunteer in the village. Kopila had suffered after the birth of her last child. “I didn’t menstruate for eight months, and then after that I started using the [contraceptive] injection,” she says. “But there were some side effects: I started menstruating twice a month.” She then went to a mobile health camp run by FPAN and started using the intrauterine coil. “After that, my menstruation went back to normal,” she says. In a village scarred by the earthquake, access to family planning has brought some much needed stability and relief to Kopila and her small family. “FPAN provide different services and knowledge: I have come to know that having more children can bring suffering, because it’s not enough to just feed children, they must be educated too” she says. “A small family is a happy family.”

Young nepalese female farmer, IPPF, FPAN
story

| 29 March 2024

Reproductive health for Nepalese female farmers after the earthquake

Two years after the earthquake that struck Nepal in April 2015, the village of Gatlang in the country’s mountainous north still lies in partial ruin. The houses here are built from enormous slabs of local stone, carved windows and doors, and roofs of stacked wooden planks. They face east towards the rising sun, their facades bedecked in intricate wooden carvings patterns linked to the ancient Buddhist culture of the Tamang people. Today, most of these houses lie in ruin, emptying the heart of the village of people, with most moving to temporary shacks on Gatlang’s fringes. Kopila Tamang is a 24-year-old farmer and mother to two young boys. Her husband, Nakul, works as a lorry driver and is often away. “When the earthquake struck, I was working in the fields,” she says. “If I had been at home, I would have died.” Kopila’s house – or what remains of it – lies at the centre of old Gatlang, on a street of traditional houses that have either entirely collapsed or are uninhabitable due to cracks and structural damage. Piles of stone and wooden cross beams are strewn in what was once a thriving village street. Like many families here, Kopila and her husband and boys have moved into a small shack built from corrugated iron and plastic. This was meant to be a temporary solution, but two years later, they are still living in it, unable to afford the enormous cost of rebuilding their old home. “It needs lots of money,” she says. “I don’t know when we will have the money to build this home again.” FPAN provided emergency health support to families like Kopila’s in the weeks and months after the earthquake. Mobile health camps offered medicines, health check ups, dignity kits, family planning, antenatal checks and other vital services.  These days, Kopila gets regular advice from Pasang Tamang, the FPAN reproductive health female volunteer in the village. Kopila had suffered after the birth of her last child. “I didn’t menstruate for eight months, and then after that I started using the [contraceptive] injection,” she says. “But there were some side effects: I started menstruating twice a month.” She then went to a mobile health camp run by FPAN and started using the intrauterine coil. “After that, my menstruation went back to normal,” she says. In a village scarred by the earthquake, access to family planning has brought some much needed stability and relief to Kopila and her small family. “FPAN provide different services and knowledge: I have come to know that having more children can bring suffering, because it’s not enough to just feed children, they must be educated too” she says. “A small family is a happy family.”

Portrait of Binu
story

| 05 July 2017

How cultural traditions affect women’s health

High up in the mountains of central northern Nepal, not far from the Tibetan border, lies the district of Rasuwa. The people here are mainly ethnic Tamang and Sherpa, two indigenous groups with cultural traditions stretching back centuries. But these rich cultural traditions can come hand-in-hand with severe social problems, compounded by entrenched poverty and very low literacy rates. Binu Koraila is a health facility mentor for the Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN) in Rasuwa. "Stigma, myths and cultural practices can have a damaging effect on sexual health, family planning and women’s rights", she says. Misconceptions about contraception are widespread. “People think the intrauterine coil will go into the brain or will fall out. They think the contraceptive implant will penetrate into the muscles.” Funeral rites present another problem. “Men who want a vasectomy need permission from their parents,” she explains. “But it’s thought that men who have had vasectomies won’t be able to perform the rituals after their parent’s death: parents think that God won’t accept that, so they don’t allow men to have vasectomies.” The culture here is strongly patriarchal. Among the Tamang, marriage involves boys or men picking out young girls from their communities.Early and forced marriage is widespread among the Tamang. If chosen, the girls have no choice but to get married. “If a boy likes a girl, they can just snatch them and take them to their house,” Binu says. Some girls are as young as 13 years old. “The girls don’t know enough about family planning, so there is a lot of teenage pregnancy.” Early marriage and teenage pregnancy can create all kinds of physical, emotional, social and economic problems for girls and their families. For many, their bodies are not well developed enough for childbirth, and maternal mortality remains a major problem in Nepal, at 258 deaths per 100,000 live births, according to UNFPA data. Their large families also suffer because there is not enough food and money to go around. “Women are the worst affected,” Binu says. Parents and husbands keep strict control of women’s access to contraception. “If they want to use contraception, women tend to need consent from their parents or husbands. “I have seen cases where if a woman gets contraceptive implant services, they get beaten by their father-in-law and husband. One woman asked to have her implant removed because she had been beaten by her husband.” Binu’s role is to deliver sexual health and family planning advice and services to villages across Rasuwa district: “I go to remote places, where people are marginalised and don’t know about family planning.” She also trains government health workers on family planning, and mentors them after they return from training in Kathmandu to Rasuwa. As well as delivering health services, the FPAN team have been working hard to change perceptions. “Recently we had a health camp at Gatland,” she explains. "After two hours of counselling one client requested an IUD. After months there was a rumour in Gatlang that her coil had fallen out. The FPAN volunteer went to the woman’s house and asked if this was true. She said, ‘No, I’m really comfortable with that service.’ After that, the client went door to door and told others how happy she was with it and that they should take it at the next family planning camp. “After four or five months, we went back to the Gatlang camp and at that time another eight women took the IUD.” These numbers might seem small but they are far less so when viewed against the wall of stigma and myth that can obstruct contraception use here, as in so many rural areas of Nepal. The involvement of committed, passionate health mentors and volunteers is vital to show people how important it is to take sexual health and family planning seriously: the benefits are felt not just by women and their families, but by entire communities. Stories Read more stories from Nepal

Portrait of Binu
story

| 29 March 2024

How cultural traditions affect women’s health

High up in the mountains of central northern Nepal, not far from the Tibetan border, lies the district of Rasuwa. The people here are mainly ethnic Tamang and Sherpa, two indigenous groups with cultural traditions stretching back centuries. But these rich cultural traditions can come hand-in-hand with severe social problems, compounded by entrenched poverty and very low literacy rates. Binu Koraila is a health facility mentor for the Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN) in Rasuwa. "Stigma, myths and cultural practices can have a damaging effect on sexual health, family planning and women’s rights", she says. Misconceptions about contraception are widespread. “People think the intrauterine coil will go into the brain or will fall out. They think the contraceptive implant will penetrate into the muscles.” Funeral rites present another problem. “Men who want a vasectomy need permission from their parents,” she explains. “But it’s thought that men who have had vasectomies won’t be able to perform the rituals after their parent’s death: parents think that God won’t accept that, so they don’t allow men to have vasectomies.” The culture here is strongly patriarchal. Among the Tamang, marriage involves boys or men picking out young girls from their communities.Early and forced marriage is widespread among the Tamang. If chosen, the girls have no choice but to get married. “If a boy likes a girl, they can just snatch them and take them to their house,” Binu says. Some girls are as young as 13 years old. “The girls don’t know enough about family planning, so there is a lot of teenage pregnancy.” Early marriage and teenage pregnancy can create all kinds of physical, emotional, social and economic problems for girls and their families. For many, their bodies are not well developed enough for childbirth, and maternal mortality remains a major problem in Nepal, at 258 deaths per 100,000 live births, according to UNFPA data. Their large families also suffer because there is not enough food and money to go around. “Women are the worst affected,” Binu says. Parents and husbands keep strict control of women’s access to contraception. “If they want to use contraception, women tend to need consent from their parents or husbands. “I have seen cases where if a woman gets contraceptive implant services, they get beaten by their father-in-law and husband. One woman asked to have her implant removed because she had been beaten by her husband.” Binu’s role is to deliver sexual health and family planning advice and services to villages across Rasuwa district: “I go to remote places, where people are marginalised and don’t know about family planning.” She also trains government health workers on family planning, and mentors them after they return from training in Kathmandu to Rasuwa. As well as delivering health services, the FPAN team have been working hard to change perceptions. “Recently we had a health camp at Gatland,” she explains. "After two hours of counselling one client requested an IUD. After months there was a rumour in Gatlang that her coil had fallen out. The FPAN volunteer went to the woman’s house and asked if this was true. She said, ‘No, I’m really comfortable with that service.’ After that, the client went door to door and told others how happy she was with it and that they should take it at the next family planning camp. “After four or five months, we went back to the Gatlang camp and at that time another eight women took the IUD.” These numbers might seem small but they are far less so when viewed against the wall of stigma and myth that can obstruct contraception use here, as in so many rural areas of Nepal. The involvement of committed, passionate health mentors and volunteers is vital to show people how important it is to take sexual health and family planning seriously: the benefits are felt not just by women and their families, but by entire communities. Stories Read more stories from Nepal

Dahide, a mother and trainee tailor in Togo
story

| 25 February 2019

“I want to use it for a couple of years and then maybe we will think about having another child”

  Every three months, Mawoula Dahide meets a community health worker in her village in central Togo to receive a single contraceptive injection and then carries on with her busy day. Dahide, 20, has a two-and-a-half year old son and a husband living in the capital and juggles an apprenticeship in tailoring with caring for her child. After recovering from the birth, Dahide tried the injection and immediately felt relief, knowing she would decide when she got pregnant again. “I want to use it for a couple of years and then maybe we will think about having another child,” she said.   Lack of access  Until 2013, Dahide and the other women living in the village of Ilama had no access to regular contraception at all, and its use was sometimes regarded with suspicion, and even fear. In her community, the average age of a mother’s first pregnancy is around 16, and women might bear a total of six or seven children compared to the national average of 4.7, according to local health workers. That trend is changing with a pioneering programme run by the Association Togolaise pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF), which has trained community health workers to administer contraception in the rural areas where they live. ATBEF has focused their distribution of contraceptives within poor and rural communities, and with mobile outreach clinics that go to villages with no trained health workers. The unmet need for contraception in Togo stands at 34% of the population, and in rural communities, this is even higher.  The association contributes a fifth of overall contraception cover to couples in Togo, a West Africa nation of 7.8 million people. There is a clear favourite among the methods offered, which include male and female condoms, the pill, and the contraceptive injection. “The injection is more used than any other method. Around 60% of women use it,” said Félicité Sonhaye, ATBEF Regional Coordinator for Togo’s Plateaux region, which covers Ilama. Women appreciate the reliability and long-lasting effects of the injection, Sonhaye added, which allow them to stop worrying about unexpected pregnancies.   From client to advocate Dahide has become an advocate for the method among her peers within her community. “My friends are getting the injection as well. I was the first to start using it and it was great, so I told them about it,” she said. Another convert to the injection is Ilama’s village chief, Sossou Sagna. The father of seven agreed with his wife they didn’t want anymore children.  “I sent my own wife to seek family planning. The lady helped us and it worked really well. I also went with my older brother’s wife and she was very satisfied,” Sagna noted in the cool of the shade.  “My wife chose the three-month injection,” he added. Sagna had not anticipated some of the wider effects of increasing contraceptive use within the community, which have become prevalent over the last couple of years. “Every member of this community is now aware that having a large family drives them towards poverty,” he said. Families have more money to spend feeding and educating their children in an economy where the cost of living keeps rising. Villagers who see Sagna attending family planning sessions are also convinced that rumours about contraception making them ill are untrue. “Ignorance was the reason why we had so many children per family here before. Now with the family planning advice we have received, spacing births has become a reality and the reduction of the number of children per family,” he added. The gains of the ATBEF rural programme will now go even further with the imminent introduction of Sayana Press, a contraceptive injection that women can self-administer.   Learn more about some of the most popular contraception methods available and if they are right for you    Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF

Dahide, a mother and trainee tailor in Togo
story

| 29 March 2024

“I want to use it for a couple of years and then maybe we will think about having another child”

  Every three months, Mawoula Dahide meets a community health worker in her village in central Togo to receive a single contraceptive injection and then carries on with her busy day. Dahide, 20, has a two-and-a-half year old son and a husband living in the capital and juggles an apprenticeship in tailoring with caring for her child. After recovering from the birth, Dahide tried the injection and immediately felt relief, knowing she would decide when she got pregnant again. “I want to use it for a couple of years and then maybe we will think about having another child,” she said.   Lack of access  Until 2013, Dahide and the other women living in the village of Ilama had no access to regular contraception at all, and its use was sometimes regarded with suspicion, and even fear. In her community, the average age of a mother’s first pregnancy is around 16, and women might bear a total of six or seven children compared to the national average of 4.7, according to local health workers. That trend is changing with a pioneering programme run by the Association Togolaise pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF), which has trained community health workers to administer contraception in the rural areas where they live. ATBEF has focused their distribution of contraceptives within poor and rural communities, and with mobile outreach clinics that go to villages with no trained health workers. The unmet need for contraception in Togo stands at 34% of the population, and in rural communities, this is even higher.  The association contributes a fifth of overall contraception cover to couples in Togo, a West Africa nation of 7.8 million people. There is a clear favourite among the methods offered, which include male and female condoms, the pill, and the contraceptive injection. “The injection is more used than any other method. Around 60% of women use it,” said Félicité Sonhaye, ATBEF Regional Coordinator for Togo’s Plateaux region, which covers Ilama. Women appreciate the reliability and long-lasting effects of the injection, Sonhaye added, which allow them to stop worrying about unexpected pregnancies.   From client to advocate Dahide has become an advocate for the method among her peers within her community. “My friends are getting the injection as well. I was the first to start using it and it was great, so I told them about it,” she said. Another convert to the injection is Ilama’s village chief, Sossou Sagna. The father of seven agreed with his wife they didn’t want anymore children.  “I sent my own wife to seek family planning. The lady helped us and it worked really well. I also went with my older brother’s wife and she was very satisfied,” Sagna noted in the cool of the shade.  “My wife chose the three-month injection,” he added. Sagna had not anticipated some of the wider effects of increasing contraceptive use within the community, which have become prevalent over the last couple of years. “Every member of this community is now aware that having a large family drives them towards poverty,” he said. Families have more money to spend feeding and educating their children in an economy where the cost of living keeps rising. Villagers who see Sagna attending family planning sessions are also convinced that rumours about contraception making them ill are untrue. “Ignorance was the reason why we had so many children per family here before. Now with the family planning advice we have received, spacing births has become a reality and the reduction of the number of children per family,” he added. The gains of the ATBEF rural programme will now go even further with the imminent introduction of Sayana Press, a contraceptive injection that women can self-administer.   Learn more about some of the most popular contraception methods available and if they are right for you    Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF

Abassa is a community health worker
story

| 20 February 2019

“Some of the young women can’t educate their own children because they had to drop out of school themselves”

Abla Abassa lives in the village of Ilama, population 2,000, in rural central Togo. After waking up early each morning to prepare for the day ahead, she sits down to map out her route. Abassa is a community health worker, and spends her days cycling around Ilama’s dusty streets to visit households who have signed up to an innovative programme that provides contraception in hard-to-reach places. The village is an hour by bumpy dirt track from the regional capital of Atakpamé, and few residents have the time or money to travel into town on a regular basis to refill prescriptions. For years, that meant the women of the community had just one form of protection against pregnancy: avoiding sex altogether. In 2013, Abassa became one of 279 community health workers in the Plateaux region funded by the Association Togolaise pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF), working in two districts where the unmet need for contraception was greatest. Today, Abassa has three different clients, but can deal with as many as five a day. The health worker meets women on their own or with their husbands, and conversation flows about village life before she administers a contraceptive injection, or leaves behind a small pile of condoms.   Reaching those in need She begins the day a few doors down at the home of Essivi Koutchona, a mother of six who has used the contraceptive injection for the last two-and-a-half years. “The community health worker passed by our house one day and explained the method and a bit about the possible side effects,” Koutchona said. “We agreed as a couple that we wanted me to start using the injection”.   Koutchona’s husband, Konou Aboudou, credits Abassa and the ATBEF with improving his marriage, which he said was strained by the rhythm [calendar] method and supporting many young children at once. “Now we can better understand and support our wives. We avoid adultery and pregnancies are planned,” he explained. “Before, people didn’t have a lot of information about contraception. With the project we have undertaken with ATBEF since 2013, the community is now able to space their births,” Abassa said, adding the couple had told her they wished the programmed has started years ago. Togo currently has a fertility rate of 4.7 children per woman, according to the United Nations Statistics Division, but is trying to bring that number down.    Battling misinformation The government faces entrenched attitudes about the value of a large family, and misinformation spread about contraception. A community health worker has two roles: safely providing contraception, but also reassuring women that many of the rumours they have heard that the injection or pill will make them sick are false. “I tell them that side effects come from the product, so if they have an irregular period it’s not because they are ill,” Abassa said, adding it had taken much persuasion over the last five years to reach the point where she was now trusted. Abassa’s next client preferred to meet at the health worker’s home for some privacy. At 45, Adjo Amagna is still having periods and wants to avoid any chance of another pregnancy. “I think I want to go for the injection. I have never used contraception before so I think I will do it for three months to see how it goes,” she said.  After the death of her fifth child, the only baby she had with her second husband, Amagna wants to focus on caring of the four children she has left. She sat down with the health worker and was passed condoms, femidoms and the pill, while Abassa explained how the injection works. After a half hour chat, Amagna agreed to begin the injection on her next visit.   Changes within the community  On the way to see Mawoula Dahide, a 20-year-old with one child, her last client of the day, Abassa reflected on the changes she has seen in the community since her job began. “I have seen the number of children per family going down,” she said. “That’s contraception but also the increasing cost of living, and the fact that these days everyone wants to send their children to school.” The prevalence of contraceptive use was at 17% before the programme began, but with the focus on rural communities this has risen to 23% nationwide, even though not all areas of Togo are covered by dedicated health workers yet. We met Dahide in a quiet corner as she took a short break from an apprenticeship in tailoring.  “It’s pretty tough balancing my son and my apprenticeship. If I had waited to have a kid before starting it would have been a lot easier,” she admitted. “My husband is studying at the university in Lomé so I only see him during the holidays and maybe a few weekends during term time.” Younger women like Dahide are sometimes harder to reach, said Abassa, and have a greater unmet need for contraception in a community where many have their first child around the age of 16. “Some of the young women can’t educate their own children because they had to drop out of school themselves,” the health worker explained, adding her focus was always on recruiting more teenagers to her cause. As she heads home for the day, Abassa waved to clients and neighbours, while wondering who might be on her doorstep looking for advice when she gets there.   Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF

Abassa is a community health worker
story

| 29 March 2024

“Some of the young women can’t educate their own children because they had to drop out of school themselves”

Abla Abassa lives in the village of Ilama, population 2,000, in rural central Togo. After waking up early each morning to prepare for the day ahead, she sits down to map out her route. Abassa is a community health worker, and spends her days cycling around Ilama’s dusty streets to visit households who have signed up to an innovative programme that provides contraception in hard-to-reach places. The village is an hour by bumpy dirt track from the regional capital of Atakpamé, and few residents have the time or money to travel into town on a regular basis to refill prescriptions. For years, that meant the women of the community had just one form of protection against pregnancy: avoiding sex altogether. In 2013, Abassa became one of 279 community health workers in the Plateaux region funded by the Association Togolaise pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF), working in two districts where the unmet need for contraception was greatest. Today, Abassa has three different clients, but can deal with as many as five a day. The health worker meets women on their own or with their husbands, and conversation flows about village life before she administers a contraceptive injection, or leaves behind a small pile of condoms.   Reaching those in need She begins the day a few doors down at the home of Essivi Koutchona, a mother of six who has used the contraceptive injection for the last two-and-a-half years. “The community health worker passed by our house one day and explained the method and a bit about the possible side effects,” Koutchona said. “We agreed as a couple that we wanted me to start using the injection”.   Koutchona’s husband, Konou Aboudou, credits Abassa and the ATBEF with improving his marriage, which he said was strained by the rhythm [calendar] method and supporting many young children at once. “Now we can better understand and support our wives. We avoid adultery and pregnancies are planned,” he explained. “Before, people didn’t have a lot of information about contraception. With the project we have undertaken with ATBEF since 2013, the community is now able to space their births,” Abassa said, adding the couple had told her they wished the programmed has started years ago. Togo currently has a fertility rate of 4.7 children per woman, according to the United Nations Statistics Division, but is trying to bring that number down.    Battling misinformation The government faces entrenched attitudes about the value of a large family, and misinformation spread about contraception. A community health worker has two roles: safely providing contraception, but also reassuring women that many of the rumours they have heard that the injection or pill will make them sick are false. “I tell them that side effects come from the product, so if they have an irregular period it’s not because they are ill,” Abassa said, adding it had taken much persuasion over the last five years to reach the point where she was now trusted. Abassa’s next client preferred to meet at the health worker’s home for some privacy. At 45, Adjo Amagna is still having periods and wants to avoid any chance of another pregnancy. “I think I want to go for the injection. I have never used contraception before so I think I will do it for three months to see how it goes,” she said.  After the death of her fifth child, the only baby she had with her second husband, Amagna wants to focus on caring of the four children she has left. She sat down with the health worker and was passed condoms, femidoms and the pill, while Abassa explained how the injection works. After a half hour chat, Amagna agreed to begin the injection on her next visit.   Changes within the community  On the way to see Mawoula Dahide, a 20-year-old with one child, her last client of the day, Abassa reflected on the changes she has seen in the community since her job began. “I have seen the number of children per family going down,” she said. “That’s contraception but also the increasing cost of living, and the fact that these days everyone wants to send their children to school.” The prevalence of contraceptive use was at 17% before the programme began, but with the focus on rural communities this has risen to 23% nationwide, even though not all areas of Togo are covered by dedicated health workers yet. We met Dahide in a quiet corner as she took a short break from an apprenticeship in tailoring.  “It’s pretty tough balancing my son and my apprenticeship. If I had waited to have a kid before starting it would have been a lot easier,” she admitted. “My husband is studying at the university in Lomé so I only see him during the holidays and maybe a few weekends during term time.” Younger women like Dahide are sometimes harder to reach, said Abassa, and have a greater unmet need for contraception in a community where many have their first child around the age of 16. “Some of the young women can’t educate their own children because they had to drop out of school themselves,” the health worker explained, adding her focus was always on recruiting more teenagers to her cause. As she heads home for the day, Abassa waved to clients and neighbours, while wondering who might be on her doorstep looking for advice when she gets there.   Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF

village leader
story

| 20 February 2019

“I wanted to work with the parents so we can stop marrying off these girls too young”

Komi Agnimavo Amazoun becomes visibly angry when he recalls the phone call telling him a 16-year-old girl was to be married off from his village in central Togo. As the highly respected village chief of Detokpo, a community of a few hundred people, Amazoun had the final say on the union, which later turned out to be the result of an attempted cover-up of a rape.   Forced early marriage “I saw that she was being married off too young. The parents came to see me and I said she was not the right age,” the usually softly spoken elder said. “She didn’t yet have an education or a job” and says the girl is now 18 and has started an apprenticeship in tailoring. Such successful interventions by village chiefs in ending forced early marriage reflects the crucial importance of their involvement in sexual health strategies in the country especially in rural areas. Detakpo is one of 870 villages which have signed Village Girl Protection Charters to stop forced transactional sex in rural communities, in an initiative promoted by the Association Togolaise Pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF). The charters outline prevention measures and rules in line with Togolese law to stop the rape and exploitation of underage girls, who are particularly vulnerable outside urban areas where professional advice and protection are more easily reached.   Working with parents Amazoun has also received training from ATBEF on the law, which bans marriage under 18 without parental consent, and on the use of contraception to prevent underage pregnancy. “We have started to raise awareness in the village so that similar cases won’t be repeated,” Amazoun said, sitting on a plastic chair outside his home. “I wanted to work with the parents so we can stop marrying off these girls too young,” he adds. Although the official rate of marriage under 18 in Togo stands at 22%, according to UNICEF, the true rate is likely much higher, as many weddings are village ceremonies that are never registered with the authorities. “This is a very traditional place with entrenched customs. The problem of sexual violence runs very deep, which means that we have cases upon cases to deal with,” explained Dopo Kakadji, the Director for Social Action in Haho Prefecture. Kakadji oversees sexual violence cases and child protection in the area, mediating disputes over marriage and providing a link between communities and the police when necessary.   The future is looking promising In many households, he said, “the woman cannot make decisions for herself. She is an object that can be used as one likes. A father can exchange a daughter to resolve problems or for money”. However, his interventions, and the creation of youth clubs to inform children of their rights, has seen families increasing willing to denounce rapists publicly.  “Today girls go to school. Things have changed in the last five years, because before the priority was to marry off daughters as soon as possible,” Kakadji noted.   Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF  

village leader
story

| 29 March 2024

“I wanted to work with the parents so we can stop marrying off these girls too young”

Komi Agnimavo Amazoun becomes visibly angry when he recalls the phone call telling him a 16-year-old girl was to be married off from his village in central Togo. As the highly respected village chief of Detokpo, a community of a few hundred people, Amazoun had the final say on the union, which later turned out to be the result of an attempted cover-up of a rape.   Forced early marriage “I saw that she was being married off too young. The parents came to see me and I said she was not the right age,” the usually softly spoken elder said. “She didn’t yet have an education or a job” and says the girl is now 18 and has started an apprenticeship in tailoring. Such successful interventions by village chiefs in ending forced early marriage reflects the crucial importance of their involvement in sexual health strategies in the country especially in rural areas. Detakpo is one of 870 villages which have signed Village Girl Protection Charters to stop forced transactional sex in rural communities, in an initiative promoted by the Association Togolaise Pour le Bien-Être Familial (ATBEF). The charters outline prevention measures and rules in line with Togolese law to stop the rape and exploitation of underage girls, who are particularly vulnerable outside urban areas where professional advice and protection are more easily reached.   Working with parents Amazoun has also received training from ATBEF on the law, which bans marriage under 18 without parental consent, and on the use of contraception to prevent underage pregnancy. “We have started to raise awareness in the village so that similar cases won’t be repeated,” Amazoun said, sitting on a plastic chair outside his home. “I wanted to work with the parents so we can stop marrying off these girls too young,” he adds. Although the official rate of marriage under 18 in Togo stands at 22%, according to UNICEF, the true rate is likely much higher, as many weddings are village ceremonies that are never registered with the authorities. “This is a very traditional place with entrenched customs. The problem of sexual violence runs very deep, which means that we have cases upon cases to deal with,” explained Dopo Kakadji, the Director for Social Action in Haho Prefecture. Kakadji oversees sexual violence cases and child protection in the area, mediating disputes over marriage and providing a link between communities and the police when necessary.   The future is looking promising In many households, he said, “the woman cannot make decisions for herself. She is an object that can be used as one likes. A father can exchange a daughter to resolve problems or for money”. However, his interventions, and the creation of youth clubs to inform children of their rights, has seen families increasing willing to denounce rapists publicly.  “Today girls go to school. Things have changed in the last five years, because before the priority was to marry off daughters as soon as possible,” Kakadji noted.   Photography by Xaume Olleros for IPPF  

Muna receiving her implant
story

| 15 February 2019

"I’m so happy I now don’t have to worry about contraception for another five years”

In August 2017, weeks of continued and heavy rainfall across Nepal resulted in flash floods and landslides that affected 36 of the 75 districts. Many people lost their homes or were displaced. It was estimated that of those affected, 112,500 were women of reproductive age, including 8,694 pregnant women.  IPPF Humanitarian, through their Member Association, The Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN), activated its emergency response system early on. With funding support from the Australian Government, FPAN and IPPF Humanitarian initially mobilised their response in four of the worst affected districts (Sunsari, Saptari, Bardiya, and Dang). Mobile medical camps were established to meet the sexual and reproductive health needs of the affected population, including through the distribution of short and long acting methods of contraception, STI and HIV screening, and GBV referrals. In collaboration with the USAID-SIFPO project, services were then expanded into five more affected districts. IPPF Humanitarian spoke with 21-year old Muna in her home district of Sunsari in Nepal.  “I got married at 16 years old and have two children, a four-year-old girl and two-year-old boy.  In my caste, we get married early, so my parents took me to get an arranged marriage. I was in the 8th class at the time, and returned to school after I got married, but only lasted one year.  My husband works in construction and had to stop working for two weeks when the floods came. When he doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid, so it’s been very difficult.  A FPAN social worker told me about the mobile medical camp today. I used to be on the three-month injectable but today I changed to the five-year implant in my arm.  When my youngest child was eight months old I found out I was pregnant again. I decided to discontinue that pregnancy, so I took the five small tablets given to me by my neighbourhood doctor. I was two months pregnant at the time.  From this, I had two days bleeding and cramp like pain, and then weakness. I decided to abort that pregnancy because my youngest will still only eight months old, and I didn’t want any more children.  If I had more than two children, it would be very difficult to feed and educate them, and would badly affect my body too. I’m so happy I now don’t have to worry about contraception for another five years.” Want to know more about safe abortion access? Join IPPF'S I Decide movement

Muna receiving her implant
story

| 29 March 2024

"I’m so happy I now don’t have to worry about contraception for another five years”

In August 2017, weeks of continued and heavy rainfall across Nepal resulted in flash floods and landslides that affected 36 of the 75 districts. Many people lost their homes or were displaced. It was estimated that of those affected, 112,500 were women of reproductive age, including 8,694 pregnant women.  IPPF Humanitarian, through their Member Association, The Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN), activated its emergency response system early on. With funding support from the Australian Government, FPAN and IPPF Humanitarian initially mobilised their response in four of the worst affected districts (Sunsari, Saptari, Bardiya, and Dang). Mobile medical camps were established to meet the sexual and reproductive health needs of the affected population, including through the distribution of short and long acting methods of contraception, STI and HIV screening, and GBV referrals. In collaboration with the USAID-SIFPO project, services were then expanded into five more affected districts. IPPF Humanitarian spoke with 21-year old Muna in her home district of Sunsari in Nepal.  “I got married at 16 years old and have two children, a four-year-old girl and two-year-old boy.  In my caste, we get married early, so my parents took me to get an arranged marriage. I was in the 8th class at the time, and returned to school after I got married, but only lasted one year.  My husband works in construction and had to stop working for two weeks when the floods came. When he doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid, so it’s been very difficult.  A FPAN social worker told me about the mobile medical camp today. I used to be on the three-month injectable but today I changed to the five-year implant in my arm.  When my youngest child was eight months old I found out I was pregnant again. I decided to discontinue that pregnancy, so I took the five small tablets given to me by my neighbourhood doctor. I was two months pregnant at the time.  From this, I had two days bleeding and cramp like pain, and then weakness. I decided to abort that pregnancy because my youngest will still only eight months old, and I didn’t want any more children.  If I had more than two children, it would be very difficult to feed and educate them, and would badly affect my body too. I’m so happy I now don’t have to worry about contraception for another five years.” Want to know more about safe abortion access? Join IPPF'S I Decide movement

Young nepalese female farmer, IPPF, FPAN
story

| 25 July 2017

Reproductive health for Nepalese female farmers after the earthquake

Two years after the earthquake that struck Nepal in April 2015, the village of Gatlang in the country’s mountainous north still lies in partial ruin. The houses here are built from enormous slabs of local stone, carved windows and doors, and roofs of stacked wooden planks. They face east towards the rising sun, their facades bedecked in intricate wooden carvings patterns linked to the ancient Buddhist culture of the Tamang people. Today, most of these houses lie in ruin, emptying the heart of the village of people, with most moving to temporary shacks on Gatlang’s fringes. Kopila Tamang is a 24-year-old farmer and mother to two young boys. Her husband, Nakul, works as a lorry driver and is often away. “When the earthquake struck, I was working in the fields,” she says. “If I had been at home, I would have died.” Kopila’s house – or what remains of it – lies at the centre of old Gatlang, on a street of traditional houses that have either entirely collapsed or are uninhabitable due to cracks and structural damage. Piles of stone and wooden cross beams are strewn in what was once a thriving village street. Like many families here, Kopila and her husband and boys have moved into a small shack built from corrugated iron and plastic. This was meant to be a temporary solution, but two years later, they are still living in it, unable to afford the enormous cost of rebuilding their old home. “It needs lots of money,” she says. “I don’t know when we will have the money to build this home again.” FPAN provided emergency health support to families like Kopila’s in the weeks and months after the earthquake. Mobile health camps offered medicines, health check ups, dignity kits, family planning, antenatal checks and other vital services.  These days, Kopila gets regular advice from Pasang Tamang, the FPAN reproductive health female volunteer in the village. Kopila had suffered after the birth of her last child. “I didn’t menstruate for eight months, and then after that I started using the [contraceptive] injection,” she says. “But there were some side effects: I started menstruating twice a month.” She then went to a mobile health camp run by FPAN and started using the intrauterine coil. “After that, my menstruation went back to normal,” she says. In a village scarred by the earthquake, access to family planning has brought some much needed stability and relief to Kopila and her small family. “FPAN provide different services and knowledge: I have come to know that having more children can bring suffering, because it’s not enough to just feed children, they must be educated too” she says. “A small family is a happy family.”

Young nepalese female farmer, IPPF, FPAN
story

| 29 March 2024

Reproductive health for Nepalese female farmers after the earthquake

Two years after the earthquake that struck Nepal in April 2015, the village of Gatlang in the country’s mountainous north still lies in partial ruin. The houses here are built from enormous slabs of local stone, carved windows and doors, and roofs of stacked wooden planks. They face east towards the rising sun, their facades bedecked in intricate wooden carvings patterns linked to the ancient Buddhist culture of the Tamang people. Today, most of these houses lie in ruin, emptying the heart of the village of people, with most moving to temporary shacks on Gatlang’s fringes. Kopila Tamang is a 24-year-old farmer and mother to two young boys. Her husband, Nakul, works as a lorry driver and is often away. “When the earthquake struck, I was working in the fields,” she says. “If I had been at home, I would have died.” Kopila’s house – or what remains of it – lies at the centre of old Gatlang, on a street of traditional houses that have either entirely collapsed or are uninhabitable due to cracks and structural damage. Piles of stone and wooden cross beams are strewn in what was once a thriving village street. Like many families here, Kopila and her husband and boys have moved into a small shack built from corrugated iron and plastic. This was meant to be a temporary solution, but two years later, they are still living in it, unable to afford the enormous cost of rebuilding their old home. “It needs lots of money,” she says. “I don’t know when we will have the money to build this home again.” FPAN provided emergency health support to families like Kopila’s in the weeks and months after the earthquake. Mobile health camps offered medicines, health check ups, dignity kits, family planning, antenatal checks and other vital services.  These days, Kopila gets regular advice from Pasang Tamang, the FPAN reproductive health female volunteer in the village. Kopila had suffered after the birth of her last child. “I didn’t menstruate for eight months, and then after that I started using the [contraceptive] injection,” she says. “But there were some side effects: I started menstruating twice a month.” She then went to a mobile health camp run by FPAN and started using the intrauterine coil. “After that, my menstruation went back to normal,” she says. In a village scarred by the earthquake, access to family planning has brought some much needed stability and relief to Kopila and her small family. “FPAN provide different services and knowledge: I have come to know that having more children can bring suffering, because it’s not enough to just feed children, they must be educated too” she says. “A small family is a happy family.”

Portrait of Binu
story

| 05 July 2017

How cultural traditions affect women’s health

High up in the mountains of central northern Nepal, not far from the Tibetan border, lies the district of Rasuwa. The people here are mainly ethnic Tamang and Sherpa, two indigenous groups with cultural traditions stretching back centuries. But these rich cultural traditions can come hand-in-hand with severe social problems, compounded by entrenched poverty and very low literacy rates. Binu Koraila is a health facility mentor for the Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN) in Rasuwa. "Stigma, myths and cultural practices can have a damaging effect on sexual health, family planning and women’s rights", she says. Misconceptions about contraception are widespread. “People think the intrauterine coil will go into the brain or will fall out. They think the contraceptive implant will penetrate into the muscles.” Funeral rites present another problem. “Men who want a vasectomy need permission from their parents,” she explains. “But it’s thought that men who have had vasectomies won’t be able to perform the rituals after their parent’s death: parents think that God won’t accept that, so they don’t allow men to have vasectomies.” The culture here is strongly patriarchal. Among the Tamang, marriage involves boys or men picking out young girls from their communities.Early and forced marriage is widespread among the Tamang. If chosen, the girls have no choice but to get married. “If a boy likes a girl, they can just snatch them and take them to their house,” Binu says. Some girls are as young as 13 years old. “The girls don’t know enough about family planning, so there is a lot of teenage pregnancy.” Early marriage and teenage pregnancy can create all kinds of physical, emotional, social and economic problems for girls and their families. For many, their bodies are not well developed enough for childbirth, and maternal mortality remains a major problem in Nepal, at 258 deaths per 100,000 live births, according to UNFPA data. Their large families also suffer because there is not enough food and money to go around. “Women are the worst affected,” Binu says. Parents and husbands keep strict control of women’s access to contraception. “If they want to use contraception, women tend to need consent from their parents or husbands. “I have seen cases where if a woman gets contraceptive implant services, they get beaten by their father-in-law and husband. One woman asked to have her implant removed because she had been beaten by her husband.” Binu’s role is to deliver sexual health and family planning advice and services to villages across Rasuwa district: “I go to remote places, where people are marginalised and don’t know about family planning.” She also trains government health workers on family planning, and mentors them after they return from training in Kathmandu to Rasuwa. As well as delivering health services, the FPAN team have been working hard to change perceptions. “Recently we had a health camp at Gatland,” she explains. "After two hours of counselling one client requested an IUD. After months there was a rumour in Gatlang that her coil had fallen out. The FPAN volunteer went to the woman’s house and asked if this was true. She said, ‘No, I’m really comfortable with that service.’ After that, the client went door to door and told others how happy she was with it and that they should take it at the next family planning camp. “After four or five months, we went back to the Gatlang camp and at that time another eight women took the IUD.” These numbers might seem small but they are far less so when viewed against the wall of stigma and myth that can obstruct contraception use here, as in so many rural areas of Nepal. The involvement of committed, passionate health mentors and volunteers is vital to show people how important it is to take sexual health and family planning seriously: the benefits are felt not just by women and their families, but by entire communities. Stories Read more stories from Nepal

Portrait of Binu
story

| 29 March 2024

How cultural traditions affect women’s health

High up in the mountains of central northern Nepal, not far from the Tibetan border, lies the district of Rasuwa. The people here are mainly ethnic Tamang and Sherpa, two indigenous groups with cultural traditions stretching back centuries. But these rich cultural traditions can come hand-in-hand with severe social problems, compounded by entrenched poverty and very low literacy rates. Binu Koraila is a health facility mentor for the Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN) in Rasuwa. "Stigma, myths and cultural practices can have a damaging effect on sexual health, family planning and women’s rights", she says. Misconceptions about contraception are widespread. “People think the intrauterine coil will go into the brain or will fall out. They think the contraceptive implant will penetrate into the muscles.” Funeral rites present another problem. “Men who want a vasectomy need permission from their parents,” she explains. “But it’s thought that men who have had vasectomies won’t be able to perform the rituals after their parent’s death: parents think that God won’t accept that, so they don’t allow men to have vasectomies.” The culture here is strongly patriarchal. Among the Tamang, marriage involves boys or men picking out young girls from their communities.Early and forced marriage is widespread among the Tamang. If chosen, the girls have no choice but to get married. “If a boy likes a girl, they can just snatch them and take them to their house,” Binu says. Some girls are as young as 13 years old. “The girls don’t know enough about family planning, so there is a lot of teenage pregnancy.” Early marriage and teenage pregnancy can create all kinds of physical, emotional, social and economic problems for girls and their families. For many, their bodies are not well developed enough for childbirth, and maternal mortality remains a major problem in Nepal, at 258 deaths per 100,000 live births, according to UNFPA data. Their large families also suffer because there is not enough food and money to go around. “Women are the worst affected,” Binu says. Parents and husbands keep strict control of women’s access to contraception. “If they want to use contraception, women tend to need consent from their parents or husbands. “I have seen cases where if a woman gets contraceptive implant services, they get beaten by their father-in-law and husband. One woman asked to have her implant removed because she had been beaten by her husband.” Binu’s role is to deliver sexual health and family planning advice and services to villages across Rasuwa district: “I go to remote places, where people are marginalised and don’t know about family planning.” She also trains government health workers on family planning, and mentors them after they return from training in Kathmandu to Rasuwa. As well as delivering health services, the FPAN team have been working hard to change perceptions. “Recently we had a health camp at Gatland,” she explains. "After two hours of counselling one client requested an IUD. After months there was a rumour in Gatlang that her coil had fallen out. The FPAN volunteer went to the woman’s house and asked if this was true. She said, ‘No, I’m really comfortable with that service.’ After that, the client went door to door and told others how happy she was with it and that they should take it at the next family planning camp. “After four or five months, we went back to the Gatlang camp and at that time another eight women took the IUD.” These numbers might seem small but they are far less so when viewed against the wall of stigma and myth that can obstruct contraception use here, as in so many rural areas of Nepal. The involvement of committed, passionate health mentors and volunteers is vital to show people how important it is to take sexual health and family planning seriously: the benefits are felt not just by women and their families, but by entire communities. Stories Read more stories from Nepal