In her own words, the former Spice Girl tells of the hardships women face every day in Nepal

Nepal, one of the world's poorest countries, women face violence and horrific health problems every day. Geri Halliwell travelled there to raise awareness of their plight, and kept this exclusive diary.

In a plastic treehouse in my local playground, I try to explain my trip to Nepal with the UNFPA (United Nations Population Fund) to my daughter, Bluebell.

‘Why can't I come?' she asks. I try to think of something quickly. How do I explain to a three-year-old I'm going to promote women's rights and mental healthcare in one of the poorest countries in the world? ‘Mummy's visiting some ladies who don't have doctors or a tidy place to have babies,' I say.

‘Can we send Nana to clean it up?' she asks. ‘Yes, we could,' I reply. ‘But she's going to look after you while I'm away. I won't be gone for long.'

Bluebell has no concept of time, but for me, six days away from her feels like forever. I kiss and hug her, feeling sick and scared as I wave goodbye. I hate leaving my child, plus I'm afraid of flying! However, I'm on a UNFPA mission and it's a precious opportunity to learn something about what's going on in Nepal and maybe, if I'm lucky, make a difference to someone else's life.

 

Sunday, Sep 6, PM

After a long flight, I land in Kathmandu, Nepal's capital city. It's busy, a melting pot of culture, temples and shacks. There are heaps of rubbish and potholes in the roads, heaving traffic and a cow wandering down the street (they are sacred to Hindus). It's sweaty, hot and humid, and chucking it down with rain.

As I'm in a very different country with its own cultures and traditions, I'm reminded by my UNFPA companion that I must be respectful of how much skin I show. I've taken trousers to cover my legs and lots of vest tops to keep cool. I'm shattered, so I munch on crisps from my hotel minibar before crashing out.

Monday, Sep 7, AM

We take a short flight to Lumbini on a tiny plane. Lumbini is Buddha's birthplace, and we drive out to some rural villages. The scenery is beautiful with lush green mountains and rice fields disguising the underlying poverty.

We drive out to Taulihawa town to a safe house for women who've been abused, called Saarthi Shelter - ‘saarthi' means ‘friend.'

A lovely lady called Bandana welcomes me. She's very excited to show me the shelter that is supported by the UNFPA. It consists of five dark concrete rooms, simply furnished with a couple of beds, a table and a chair. I'm humbled by her enthusiasm. I see a noticeboard, which lists the women's names, ages and the form of abuse they've suffered.

I'm hoping to get first-hand knowledge of what these women's lives are like. I meet four lovely young women, all aged between 20 and 30. I'm told they were intercepted at the Indian border by the police, who recognised a sleazy pimp who was with them. He'd told the girls he was taking them to Kuwait to become cleaners, so they could send money back to their relatives. Actually they were about to be sold as prostitutes.

When I ask if they're glad they were saved from becoming prostitutes, they look dazed and confused, as if they don't believe it was going to happen. My UNFPA official reminds me these women have lived in remote mountain villages, so they have no grasp of the danger they were in. They only wanted to improve their lives.

I then meet Rabina* and her baby daughter Geeta*. Rabina was raped by her father-in-law and the baby is his. I'm horrified. She tells me she couldn't look at Geeta at first, but has now grown to love her. She has nowhere to go as her husband's family will only take her back without the baby. She doesn't want to leave her child and I don't blame her. I can't imagine what she's been through.

Then I meet Sathi, who had an arranged marriage aged nine, and her son Krishna. I'm told fathers with no money often have to marry their daughters off young to avoid paying a dowry when they're older. Her husband's family treats Sathi and her son disgustingly. Her father-in-law is sexually inappropriate, but her mother-in-law blames Sathi.

Then I learn women in Nepal have only been allowed to own their own property since 2006, when a new law was passed. The downside is that they lose it all as soon as they marry. A recent survey there also revealed that, shockingly, a third of women consider it acceptable that women should be beaten - especially if they refuse sex or burn their husband's dinner.

I'm mindful that while I don't want to criticise how other people live, as we're talking about thousands of years of traditions and beliefs, it's glaringly obvious that women are still treated as second-class citizens in many Nepalese households.

 

Monday, Sep 7, PM

At a health clinic which has been set up in the village of Tilarahot, we meet several women who've benefited from its existence.

One lady there, Lila, had walked around with a prolapsed womb - a hideous condition - for the past 16 years. It's basically when the insides of the womb drop downward - the main causes are working too soon after having a baby, having babies too young or having too many. It's really uncomfortable - I'm shown pictures and it looks terrible.

To make things worse, women's husbands often reject them because of it. Lila thankfully received a life-changing operation to correct it at this clinic, but she's one of the lucky ones.

As I'm leaving, I bump into some local schoolchildren and hand out some pens - they're so excited, like it's Christmas. It's a really good moment and I try not to think about missing Bluebell.

Next, I meet a group of women who've created a cooperative and emergency female healthcare fund, with support from UNFPA. Together they save up money to lend to women who need to pay for a two-hour taxi drive to hospital when they're in labour.

I feel inspired by these women truly supporting each other, even though they have nothing themselves. However, I then hear that taxi drivers often refuse to drive a woman in labour if she's from a lower Hindu caste (class) called the ‘untouchables'.

Before I say goodbye, I pop into a traditional house - basically a straw shack. It's tiny and dark, and a lady is busy cooking on a fire. Her husband is relaxing.

I drive back to my hotel to reflect on the day and I think about some of the women I have met. Sometimes I felt overwhelmed by what they were telling me. My life experiences haven't given me the knowledge to know what to say.

I'm lying in bed, tearful and tired. There's no phone signal and the room smells musty. I haven't spoken to Bluebell for two days. But then, as I wrap myself in a crusty sheet, I think about the lady in the shack - compared to her home, this is luxury.

Tuesday, Sep 8

I fly back to Kathmandu to have lunch with some government ministers. Nepalese politics is
a fascinating minefield, having changed governments every year for the past 19 years. It's only recently become a democracy.

Thankfully there are wonderful, inspiring women like Sapana, a female MP, who has lobbied for women's rights. Her campaigning earned women the right to own their own property.

Wednesday, Sep 9

I'm ready to meet the Prime Minister, Madhav Kumar Nepal - and together with some local celebrities, we're going to launch a new campaign to end violence against women. Most of the people there only speak Nepalese and I feel nervous as I have to give a speech - luckily in English. But this is about those women I met two days ago, and I must do my best to communicate.

It goes well, and after tea with the Prime Minister - he seems like a modern man and believes in educating women - I leave feeling positive change is possible.

Friday, Sep 11

I'm back in London, feeling incredibly grateful for my life and my circumstances. My problems seem miniscule in comparison to the women I met. I'll never forget the women of Nepal and how we must help them. 

• Geri waived any fee in exchange for New Idea making a donation to the UNFPA. To support or learn more about the UNFPA, visit www.unfpa.org.

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