A rocky start in life 

My name is Ghulam. I was born in Kabul’s Kart-e Sakhi neighbourhood in 1983 during the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. I only went to school until third grade. Back then, with the civil war raging, times were tough, and when I was ten years old, I had to go to work to help support my family. At first, I got a job in a small baked goods factory, later moving to a rug-weaving workshop, where the pay was slightly better.

In 2000, I went to Iran to find work. I got a job in a metal workshop. I worked there for eight years, honing my skills as a metalworker. The shop did a brisk business and I made good money. I kept some of my earnings for my own expenses and sent the rest home to my mother. Sadly, we lost my father while I was in Iran, which made me the main provider for my mother and two brothers, who were still young and I wanted them to stay in school.

Time to start a family 

When I came back to Kabul, I opened a small metal workshop in the Kot-e Sangi area, with the little money my mother had been saving from my earnings in Iran. I made metal doors, windows and other things people needed for their homes. The shop gave me a living and I could support my family. My mother kept nagging me to get married. She said it was time for me to start a family of my own, and she set out to find me a suitable girl. Finally, after considering several young women, she settled on a lovely girl from a good family and I got engaged. But getting engaged is one thing and actually getting married is something else.

It’s not unusual for Afghans to get engaged and stay engaged for several years, because they can’t afford to get married. I wasn’t any different. First, I had to pay a bride price to my father-in-law, which I couldn’t afford. Then, it was the cost of having a wedding, because in Afghanistan, you have to invite many guests. It’s not just close relatives and friends; you must invite members of your tribe whose weddings you yourself have attended. Even a small wedding typically involves about 500 guests. Larger weddings can exceed 1,000. At the very least, you have to hire a wedding hall and pay for food for all the guests.

My perpetual engagement 

Four years after I got engaged, I still hadn’t saved money enough to get married. My fiancée and her family were getting impatient. My father-in-law was asking for 250,000 afghani [about 3,600 USD] as a bride price and I had calculated that it would cost another 500,000 afghani [about 7,000 USD] for a small wedding. I really couldn’t see how I’d come up with 750,000 afghani [about 11,000 USD], even if I worked all the hours God sent.

I told my father-in-law about my financial troubles. He said he’d reduce the bride price to 50,000 afghani [about 700 USD]. I asked a friend for a loan. He didn’t have the money but introduced me to someone who I could borrow money from. I went to the man and we agreed that he’d give me the funds, which I’d then pay back within six months. But when I went to my father-in-law with the money, he’d changed his mind. He said he wouldn’t accept any amount lower than what he’d originally asked for. So I returned the money to the man who had lent it to me. My wedding was now postponed indefinitely.

A resolution at last 

Another two years went by and I was still no closer to having saved enough to get married. I spoke to my fiancée and told her I didn’t think I’d ever save enough money for us to get married the way her family wanted us to. I was saving as much as I could, but I still had to support my family and everything, including weddings, was getting more expensive by the day.

One day, a friend told me about the Abul Fazl ul-Abbas Social and Cultural Foundation. He said they supported couples who wanted to get married, but didn’t have the financial means to do so. He said they did this by organising group weddings, which they pay for. So one day I went to the foundation’s office and talked to the people there about the possibility of taking part in one of their group weddings. Later that day, I raised the idea with my fiancée.

We decided that she’d get her family to agree to a group wedding, but when she first raised the idea with them, her uncle opposed it. He said they’d attended the weddings of many relatives and it was time for them to return the hospitality by hosting a wedding. But she wouldn’t give up. She kept bringing it up every few days until her parents finally relented and agreed. It felt like a miracle.

I went back to the foundation and told them I wanted to take part in one of their group weddings. They talked me through their selection procedure and said they’d need to first do some checks. They’d be in touch, they said, and if I met all the conditions, we could take part in one of their group wedding ceremonies.

Qualifying for a group wedding 

The Abul Fazl ul-Abbas Foundation doesn’t just accept anyone who asks to be married in a group wedding. They have strict guidelines for who can qualify. First, they must speak to the couple and their families to ensure everyone agrees. Second, they need to confirm that the groom isn’t already married. Lastly, they will investigate the groom’s financial situation to make sure he genuinely lacks the means to pay for a wedding, for example, that he doesn’t own any property that he could sell to pay for his wedding.

I wasn’t worried. I knew I met all their conditions. They came to my home and talked to my mother. She told them that my father had died and I supported the family. They saw the rented rooms we lived in. They met my in-laws to make sure they’d be happy with their daughter getting married in a group wedding.

Finally, they agreed to accept us. Before the wedding, we had to attend several meetings where they talked to us about what it means to be married, including the rights of a husband and the rights of a wife.

Finally, the big day 

50 couples got married during our wedding event. The foundation had given each couple 50 invitation cards so that family and friends could join us for the occasion. Our wedding was in the evening, but another 50 couples were set to marry during a lunch ceremony the following day.

Everyone was dressed the same, because the foundation had given each bride a wedding dress, veil, and shoes, and each groom a suit, shirt, socks and shoes. There were also wedding presents for every couple to help them as they started their new life together – a nine-metre rug, a set of dishes for a family of four, a pressure cooker and a gas heater.

They did the nekah [marriage contract] before the ceremony so that the couples are mahram to each other and don’t have problems sitting together, talking and holding each other’s hands. The event itself was a celebration for friends and family – a public declaration of our marriage. The atmosphere was festive. Although there was no music, there were people who recited religious poetry. A simple dinner of traditional Afghan rice was served, but nothing else alongside the main dish – no fruit or vegetables. Each couple also got their own wedding cake. We took our cake home to share with family and friends.

We couldn’t afford to host any parties, like a pre-wedding henna night, but our families gathered at our house after the wedding to celebrate. They threw noql [a traditional sweet] and chocolate as we got out of the car and we had a simple gathering with our wedding cake and tea. The day after the wedding my in-laws visited for the takht jami (post-wedding party). We had a simple dinner and they brought gifts for my wife

Happily ever after 

It’s been five years since my wife and I got married along with those 49 other couples in a group wedding. We have a happy home and are blessed with two children. Sometimes, I ask her if she regrets forgoing a big wedding. “Not for a moment”, she says. “I decided to start my life with you, and I’ve never looked back. Look at the life we have now, look at our amazing children. If I’d held out for a big wedding, we might still be waiting for you to save up.”

Edited by Roxanna Shapour