Sophorn, a garment worker for the past decade, first visited a Reproductive Health Association of Cambodia (RHAC) clinic when she was pregnant with her first child. She returned for health checks each month until, at five months pregnant, she lost the baby. Her second pregnancy also resulted in a miscarriage, leaving her distraught. Then, she got pregnant a third time, in 2013. “I started to discuss with the doctors how to protect my child,” she says. “They gave me medication to strengthen my cervix, which I took for six months. In the seventh month, I gave birth prematurely.” Doctors told Sophorn that her baby girl was health, but she only weighed in at 1.7 kilograms. The infant was taken to a specialist children’s hospital, where she was cared for an additional two weeks. “During the pregnancy I was very worried,” Sophorn says. “I felt so happy when I finally delivered my child.” Her daughter was born without any complications is now a happy and healthy four years old. In initial stages of her third pregnancy, Sophorn’s friends told her that she would have to undergo surgery on her cervix or have injections to help her carry her baby to term, and doctors at a private clinic confirmed their suggestions. However, she decided to seek a second opinion at RHAC, where doctors instead gave her a prescription to strengthen her cervix. “When I heard I needed to have that surgery I was very scared, so I was relieved when the doctor at RHAC told me to take the medication instead,” she says. “While I was taking the medication I observed my body and any changes to it, so when I felt unwell I would go to the doctors and consult them, so I felt comfortable to continue taking it.” Sophorn also went for appointments at a government-run hospital, but found that their services were also lacking. “I told the doctors about losing my first and second babies, but they only weighed me and measured my stomach. There weren’t any more examinations or very much care,” she says. “When I went to RHAC they did so many examinations and had so many services, so I think it’s really better to go to RHAC for these kinds of services.” She estimates that during her third pregnancy, she had ten appointments at RHAC clinics at a cost of 40,000 to 60,000 riel (£7.40 to £11.15) each time. Compared to just 2,000 riel for an obstetrics appointment at the public hospital, the difference in cost is significant. “It’s expensive for me because my salary is little.” Despite the relatively high prices, Sophorn already knows where she will go for medical care in the future. “I want to have one more child, and I have already planned that when I decide to do it I will go to RHAC to get my cervix checked first,” she says. Until that day comes, Sophorn is taking the oral contraceptive after receiving advice about birth control from RHAC’s clinicians, with a midwife from the NGO making regular visits to the factory.

Pann Chandy gave her first sexual education lesson when she was still at school as a volunteer youth social worker with the Reproductive Health Association of Cambodia (RHAC). She had no qualms about standing up in front of her classmates to discuss culturally taboo topics when she was just a teenager. Now aged 25 and in possession of a Bachelor degree in midwifery, Chandy has been employed by RHAC for less than a year, working as part of the organisation’s health outreach team. The job is demanding: she is tasked with regularly visiting four karaoke parlours, eight garment factories and 20 villages in Phnom Penh, with plans to expand to two universities imminently. Travelling for hours A round trip to some communities can take two hours or more on her motorcycle, travelling alone into areas that are not always easily accessible. “Sometimes I have the clinic staff with me, but rarely,” Chandy says. “I promote the health services provided by Reproductive Health Association of Cambodia as well. If they are interested in going to a clinic, I give them a referral,” she says. One of the factories on her regular roster is Propitious garment factory in Takhmao, a small city south of Phnom Penh. Chandy spends two days a month at the factory, where she speaks to groups of women or has one-on-one discussions about sensitive topics. Passionate about the job “Just yesterday during the outreach service, a woman asked me why she didn’t get her period after having an abortion. She wanted to know what was wrong,” she says. “It’s common for women to use unsafe abortion methods. Mainly they take medicine from a pharmacy, and the pharmacy doesn’t give them any advice on how to use it. Often they go to cheap, unlicensed clinics near the factories for medical abortions.” Chandy is passionate about her job at Reproductive Health Association of Cambodia, and dreams about one day setting up her own pharmacy where she could provide comprehensive advice to clients. “There are a lot of unlicensed pharmacists in this country,” she says, many of which prescribe the counterfeit medicines that have inundated the market. “I think I may have the capacity to become a licensed one."

After three years of marriage, Cambodian garment worker Sineang had started to wonder why she hadn’t yet become pregnant. Still in her early 20s, she and her husband wanted to have a baby and were not using contraception. In late 2011 or early 2012, Sineang visited a Reproductive Health Association of Cambodia clinic to seek treatment after she noticed some vaginal discharge. During the appointment, her doctor asked her more details about her sexual and reproductive health history: the issue of infertility soon came up. “I had been wanting to have a child for three years, since I was married,” she says. “I felt down about myself, but my husband gave me encouragement and told me it was okay that I was not pregnant yet.” During the initial examination, Sineang says, she was tested for cervical cancer as well as other reproductive health issues that can interfere with pregnancy. RHAC staff prescribed medication to treat her fertility problems, which she continued taking until they confirmed she was pregnant. “At first, I wasn’t really convinced that there was any relation between the discharge and not having a baby, but later I started to think that there was a connection,” she says. Throughout the whole period, Sineang went to RHAC each month – switching from infertility treatment to prenatal care – until she gave birth to a baby girl in 2013. “I was very happy when my daughter was born,” she says. “She’s healthy.” At the time, RHAC offered a discount to garment workers, which Sineang says was a big help. It’s no longer on offer, but she is an enthusiastic supporter of a plan RHAC is hoping to implement soon – a partnership with the National Social Security Fund that would allow them to visit RHAC clinics for free through the fund. “It would be really great if they could, because having a baby is expensive,” she says. “The clinic at RHAC has better service than the public hospitals. When I had my first baby, I wanted to have good service, because I had this problem with discharge [in the past].” Sineang, who is originally from Kandal province and works at Dewhirst garment factory in Phnom Penh, said she was pleased to see RHAC midwives doing regular outreach sessions at the factory. “It’s good for women to know more about these issues,” she says. And not only that, but Sineang is also an active ambassador for RHAC, spreading the word about the NGO’s services to friends and colleagues who have also struggled to have a baby. “I referred a friend to RHAC after she saw that I finally got pregnant. Now my friend, who didn’t have a baby, has two children,” she says. “I also referred another colleague who is having the same problem, and she is going to go on Sunday.”

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.”

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

“People used to shout at me when I was distributing condoms. ‘You’re not a good girl, you’re not of good character’ they’d say. They called me many bad things.” “But later on, after getting married, whenever I visited those families they came and said: ‘you did a really good job. We realise that now and feel sorry for what we said before.” Rita Chawal is recalling her time as a volunteer for the Family Planning Association of Nepal (FPAN), Nepal’s largest family planning organisation. Her experiences point to the crucial importance of family planning education and support in Nepal, a country still affected by severe maternal and infant mortality rates and poor access to contraception. Poor government services, remote communities, a failing transport network and strict patriarchal structures can make access to family planning and health services a challenge for many people across the country. Services like FPAN’s are vital to reach as many people as possible. Rita is now 32 years old and herself a client of FPAN. She lives with her husband and six-year-old son in Bhaktapur, an ancient temple city, 15 kilometres from the centre of Kathmandu. Before getting married, she spent 10 years working as a family planning youth volunteer for FPAN, running classes on sexual health, safe abortion and contraception. Her time at the organisation set her in good stead for married life: after marrying she approached FPAN right away to get family planning support, antenatal classes, and, later on, contraception. “I had all this knowledge, so I decided to come and take the services,” she says. “I found that the services here were very good.” But Rita is far from the norm. She shudders when she recalls the abuse she received from neighbours and her community when she worked distributing contraception. Stigma still surrounds contraception in many places: for an unmarried young woman like Rita to be distributing condoms was seen as immoral by many, particularly older, people, even in an urban setting like Bhaktapur. Stigma can be even more extreme in rural areas. Across Nepal, rumours about the side effects of different contraceptive devices are also a problem. Attitudes are slowly changing. Rita says people now come to her whenever they have a family planning problem. “I have become a role model for the community,” she says. She herself is now using the contraceptive implant, a decision she arrived at after discussing different options with FPAN volunteers. She has tried different methods. After her son’s birth, she began using the contraceptive injection. “After the injection, I shifted to oral pills for six months, but that didn’t suit me,” she says. “It gave me a headache and made me feel dizzy. So I had a consultation with FPAN and they advised me to use the implant. I use it now and feel really good and safe. It’s been five years now.” This kind of advice and support can transform the lives of entire families in Nepal. Reductions in maternal and infant mortality, sexual health, female empowerment and dignity, and access to safe abortion are just a few of the life-changing benefits that organisations like FPAN can bring. Stories Read more stories from Nepal