Anju Kumari

My name is Anju Kumari Chaudhary. I am 23 years old, and I live in Pokharbhinda Tole, Ward No. 4 of Gujara Municipality in Rautahat District. This village is not just where I live—it is where I was born and raised, making it deeply meaningful to me.

I was born into an educated, middle-class Chaudhary family where my basic needs-food, clothing, and education-were always fulfilled. My childhood was secure and comfortable. However, at the age of just 16, I made a life-changing decision that altered the course of my life. I eloped and got married to a boy from my village, going against the love, trust, and expectations of my family.

After marriage, I entered a completely different reality. I became a daughter-in-law in a very poor household. Although we have a small piece of land to live on, we do not own any agricultural land for farming. This means that everything we eat must be purchased, making daily life a constant financial struggle.

Today, my family consists of four members-my husband, my mother-in-law, my young daughter, and myself. My husband works as a daily wage laborer, but his work is irregular and uncertain. Some days there is income, but many days there is none. On top of this, he often spends money on alcohol and cigarettes, which adds further strain to our already fragile financial situation.

To support my family, I work wherever I can—seasonal farming, daily labor, and any small opportunity that comes my way. Despite working hard, it is still very difficult to meet even our basic needs.

Because of our financial condition, we could not afford to buy livestock. However, the kindness of our neighbors brought a small light into my life. They lent me a young buffalo and two goats under a shared arrangement. I now take care of them with great dedication, seeing them not just as animals, but as a symbol of hope for a better future.

Life after my early marriage has been full of hardship-not just economic, but also social and emotional. In my community, deep-rooted traditions and superstitions still exist. Women are often undervalued and expected to remain within the boundaries of household work. They are discouraged from speaking up, participating in meetings, or making decisions. Men dominate financial and social decisions, and women’s voices are often ignored.

I, too, faced these challenges. I experienced verbal abuse and carried the burden of managing the household largely on my own. Society often treated us differently because of our poverty-people hesitated to lend us money, spoke to us with less respect, and overlooked our struggles. These experiences made me feel invisible at times, but deep inside, I always carried a desire to change my life.

One afternoon, while I was busy with household chores, I overheard my mother talking about an organization called Slisha and the WAWCAS program. She encouraged me to learn more about it. Something about her words sparked curiosity and hope within me.

Without hesitation, I began informing other women in my community. I told them that a new organization was coming to support us and encouraged them to join a meeting. Soon, many of us gathered, curious and eager to learn.

During the first meeting, around 50 men and women participated. The facilitators explained the WAWCAS program in detail. At first, many of us were doubtful. Some feared it might be like microfinance institutions that charge high interest or even exploit people.

However, our trainer patiently explained that this program was different. It was not just about saving money-it was about learning, sharing our problems, and finding solutions together. The program offered opportunities for business development without collateral, along with training and support for both women and children.

With each meeting, our understanding deepened. By the third meeting, those who truly believed in the program came together to form a group. When my name was officially listed, I felt a deep sense of relief and happiness-as if a new door had opened in my life.

After selection, facilitators visited our homes to understand our real conditions. When they came to my house, I openly shared everything: our poverty, my struggles, my husband’s habits, and the responsibilities I carried. For the first time, I felt heard.

As I learned more about the program-its seven-day training, livestock support, business development training, child groups, and collaboration with local organizations-I felt a transformation within me. My thinking began to change. I realized that this opportunity was truly meant for women like me.

One particular meeting became a turning point in my journey. Our Trainer, Chitra, introduced a new and unique activity to help us understand our own economic and social conditions.

Inspired by her words, I finished my household chores early, sent my child to school, and encouraged all the women in my group to arrive at the meeting on time. There was a sense of excitement and curiosity among us.

That day, we learned about economic status ranking, also known as wealth ranking. At first, we did not fully understand the concept, but through discussion and guidance, we gradually learned to categorize households into four groups: ultra-poor, poor, medium-poor, and well-off.

Madam explained the classifications based on the Government of Nepal’s definitions:

• Ultra-poor: Families whose land produces food for only 0–3 months and who depend on daily wage labor.
• Poor: Families with food production for 3–6 months and reliance on labor for the rest of the year.
• Medium-poor: Families with food sufficiency for 6–9 months and additional income sources.’
• Well-off: Families who can sustain themselves throughout the year.

We then placed our names into the category we believed represented our situation. When my turn came, I felt nervous and hesitant. I worried about what others might think. But gathering courage, I placed my name under the “ultra-poor” category.

To my surprise, everyone agreed. It was a difficult moment, but also a powerful one. For the first time, I accepted my reality openly. Instead of feeling ashamed, I felt a strange sense of strength-because acknowledging the truth was the first step toward change.

In the end, 25 women, including myself, were selected for the WAWCAS program.

The session continued with another meaningful activity; creating a social map of our community. With guidance from our facilitator, we worked together to draw a map showing our homes, roads, water sources, schools, and other important places. It was a joyful experience. Seeing our village on paper, and identifying our own homes, made us feel connected and united.

That day’s meeting was not just informative-it was transformative.

Today, I stand with a new sense of awareness and determination. I know that I belong to the ultra-poor category, but I no longer see it as a limitation. Instead, I see it as my starting point.

I now have the courage to dream, the motivation to work hard, and the belief that change is possible.

Being part of the WAWCAS program feels like a blessing. It has given me knowledge, confidence, and hope. For the first time in my life, I truly believe that even someone like me can build a better future-for myself, my daughter, and my family.

From struggle to courage, from silence to voice, and from hopelessness to hope. This is my journey. And it is just the beginning.