27 million women in the sex slave trade
12 ½ is the average age of the girls who are trafficked
1000 rupees is the average price for having sex with a virgin
Sex trafficking is a huge issue. I happened to be in the D.C. area for my ten year high school reunion last summer I ended up at a conference last minute. Here I met Becky Bavinger, a great girl working for The Emancipation Network (http://www.emancipationnetwork.org/ ) and Made by Survivors (http://www.madebysurvivors.com/ ) whose mission is to spread the word about the sex trafficking trade and do something about it. I elected to be in a small breakout group with her and found myself beset with a topic I knew next to nothing about. She was heading to Kolkata in October when Lori and I headed to Ethiopia, but we made a pact to meet up in Kolkata in February. Here we are in the middle of February already and I am still on the cusp of learning about this huge and overwhelming subject.
The first day I met up with Becky she had this bag over her shoulder:
http://store.madebysurvivors.com/Jute-Messenger-Bag
Intrigued I asked about the numbers. Finding out their meaning I realized the power of the bag: discussion. So much about what we are doing here in Kolkata is about opening your mind, having discussions, and being challenged to the core by the answers. Most volunteering I have been a part of has been this way. This topic, however, is something completely new for me. My parents called the other night and I was trying my best to put everything I have learned so far into words, sentences, meaning. Asking the tough and pensive questions they are both so good at I could only reply that I knew very little and was doing my best to learn more. This conversation made me realize I needed to write a blog about it. So, I’m putting it out there as something to think about for those of you who will take me up on it, and challenge you to learn with me.
There are many organizations here whose sole mission is to work with women currently in the sex trade, or living in one of the red light districts, while others go so far as rescuing victims and keeping them safe in a shelter for years of rehabilitation and vocational training. It is daunting that there are so many organizations working on the same cause because it means that the issue is so great. Girls who have been stolen from their home village, disappearing usually forever, or even those who have been sold at a young age, and then manage in one way or another to escape, are not welcomed back. They are tainted, unclean, and ultimately, not welcome. Even though most of the women and nearly all the young girls did not choose this profession, it is because they took part in it, no matter how unwilling, they have shamed themselves and their families permanently. Therefore, even though they may have escaped they have no safe place to go and end up on the streets or back in the trade. Places like Freeset (http://www.freesetbags.com/ ), Sari Bari (http://www.saribari.com/ ), and Made by Survivors, are just a few of the organizations set up to fight and to help.
I visited Freeset the other day and was amazed at the organization of the business, the joy of the over 100 women employed there, the love of those running it, and the way the women were treated. At Freeset there is a nursery for the women who have children, so that they can have a safe (and free) place to put their kids while they work. They are given a salary and even a retirement plan / bank account for later. These women have truly been set free.
Each day I volunteer with women in the fair-trade business as well. However, the organization I work with, Shelano (http://www.shelano.com/ ) is not specifically for women in the sex trade. It is poverty-focused, and each woman has her own unique story. After work I usually meet up with Becky or visit one of her projects, since I am hoping that beginning next month we will be able to place volunteers interested in this subject in with her work in the city. A couple of nights ago I met five fabulous young women. They are living in a flat together, on their own, for the first time in their lives. They spent 3-5 years living in Sneha (http://www.sanlaapindia.org/ ) a shelter for minors who were rescued from the sex trade. These women have been given a new life. At Sneha they got counselling, a safe place to live, and vocational training skills. Now, as a new part of the Sanlaap (http://www.sanlaapindia.org/ ) project, they have been given a chance to begin a new life, together. They are cooking for themselves and working as a group making items for Made by Survivors. Becky goes over almost every day to hang out, listen to music and do what girls do best: chat. It was on one of these nights that I went along and enjoyed their company.
I haven’t come to any amazing revelation; I haven’t made any huge leaps and bounds for these women, but I am learning. I’m doing my best to tell their story too.
Links:
The Emancipation Network http://www.emancipationnetwork.org/
Made by Survivors http://www.madebysurvivors.com/
Freeset http://www.freesetbags.com/
Sari Bari http://www.saribari.com/
Sneha http://www.sanlaapindia.org/
Sanlaap http://www.sanlaapindia.org/
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
India Photos #2
Buddha, Thai style, Sarnath
Bangle Paradise, Varanasi
Sunrise on the Ganges River, Varanasi
Boats on the Ganges River Ghats
Prayer Wheels, Tibetian Temple, Sarnath
Saturday, February 9, 2008
India Photos #1
The Toy Train to Shimla
Manali: A temple under snow
Hiking above McLeod Ganj
A chilly sunrise at the Taj Mahal
Impromtu concert in an alley in Agra...I love the hornsMonday, February 4, 2008
kolkata
sitting in an internet cafe trying to concentrate as the guy at the computer next to me blasts his easy-listening hindi pop. although i'm halfway down an alley, off the busy city streets, i can still hear the impatient car horns and squallor of human living that are a constant here, late into the night and starting up again at first light. calcutta (kolkata) is a city of contradictions. tiny tailor shops barely big enough for the tailor and his wares reside on the same block as massive multi-story malls with expensive crap clothing and jewelry from china. shabby chai-wallahs sell hot, sugary tea by the terra-cotta cup for a fraction of the price as the uniform-clad baristas at the coffee-chain down the street. a well-dressed local strolls down the sidewalk with a well-fed dog in his arms or on a leash, past dozens (hundreds?) of starving, mangy mutts that fight over greasy garbage. shiny brand-new cars with shiny clean drivers maneuver the same streets as rickety buses crammed with people and thin men on old bent bicycles and even thinner men pulling rickshaws in their bare feet. kids with perfectly-plaited hair and creased uniforms ran laughing past breast-feeding babies with big eyes and their sad mothers, hands outstretched. this is an intense place. it is challenging my mind, my every philosophy i've ever had about life, my concepts of right and wrong, good and bad, having and lacking and needing and wanting. sometimes it's beautiful, sometimes it's horrible, but it's all here right in front of me as i struggle to keep my eyes and mind open.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Due North
There must be some magnetic pull in my body that draws me to the north. I know I felt it most powerfully at the age of fourteen when I stepped off the plane in Alaska and knew I was home. It only makes sense that Lori and I arrived in Delhi on January 13th and made a beeline north. We knew before we left that where we really wanted to go, Ladakh and Leh, would be closed for the winter by the time we arrived, so we decided to head for Shimla and see what happened. Shimla is a hill town, a typical resort town, a Breckenridge, if you will, of India. In the summer it is crawling with the upper echelon who have come to escape the heat of the southern regions, and Europeans who enjoy the Toy Train ride up the steep cliffs-quite an exciting novelty. We enjoyed it, but felt transported out of India to a new country altogether. The best part about heading this direction at this time of year is that there were very few tourists at all, so we felt we had the run of the place. We also found out here, ducking into the tourism office to escape the freezing rain, that we could head even further north, a gift!
Two days later we headed north to Manali by bus, an eleven hour ride, and stepped off into a winter wonderland. We gleefully looked up, as if in a snow globe, and rejoiced in the white Christmas we didn’t have in Ethiopia. Though delightful and making us feel at home, we were ill prepared. We were those people we loathe in their heavy cotton and flip-flops struggling on Flattop! We had our wool, and I had my long underwear (Lori accidentally left hers in Addis), but our airy tennis shoes were immediately soaked through by the first icy puddle we stepped in, and our one pair of tall wool socks was ruined. None of this would be a problem if the hotels had heat in the rooms, or even a fireplace in the lobby where we could dry our things out, but, alas, with power cuts each night the electric heater we paid extra for in our room was a waste, and our clothes were frozen when we woke up in the morning! Needless to say, the next day our mission was to remedy our situation. We ended up with three new pairs of tall woolen socks, rubber boots, a new pair of long underwear for Lori, and a heavy wool coat for me. We were kitted out for winter and ready to explore Manali! We explored the mountain area, the temple so beautiful with snow all around it, and found a fireplace (finally!) late in the day to warm our bones.
Our time was limited since we needed to be in Kolkata (Calcutta) by the 31st of January, so we wanted to see as much of the north as possible. Two nights in Manali and then we got on another bus, this ride exponentially more dangerous, to Dharamshala. That morning everything had frozen and we basically very carefully ice skated from our hotel to the bust station, balancing our bodies and our packs in our very slippery rubber boots. We contemplated waiting a day for things to thaw out, but put our trust into the trip and held on tight when it was our turn in the bus to head down the icy hill out of town. Thankfully, we made it, over a 12 hour ride, and we were even more grateful when we read in the morning’s paper that a few buses had crashed or tipped off the mountain cliffs, in this region, due to the weather. We stayed in McLeod Ganj, the part of town above Dharamshala, where the Dali Lama resides. We ended up spending three nights in this town, our favorite so far, and could have spend three months. The surrounding mountains made for a great day hike, making us long for a week-long hike further back. We visited the main temple, cueing up with Buddhist pilgrims to turn the prayer wheels, and spent a few hours in the Tibet Museum, a well-done exhibit documenting the crimes against Tibet by China. This area is so unique, more Tibetans than Indian. “Danyavad“ (Hindi for “Thank you”) didn’t work here, we had to learn “Two-chi-chay” (phonetic spelling) the Tibetan version. We met some fantastic people, and divulged our senses with shopping, eating Tibetan momos (a lot like potstickers), and drinking apple tea. It was hard to leave, but we headed to Pathankot, a town that borders Pakistan, to catch a train east.
After arriving back in Delhi at 5am from the north we boarded another train to Agra an hour later. By late afternoon we were surrounded by travelers who had come from all over the globe to see the famed Taj Mahal. We ended up meeting a fabulous auto-rickshaw driver at the prepaid stand at the train station who we used later to see the city. We had intended one walking ourselves around to all the sites, but this was a much better option amidst the city bustle. We visited the Agra Fort, built by the same man who commissioned the Taj, a Persian tomb, the Itimad-ud-daulah (the“Baby Taj”), got a chance to see a marble carving shop where artists related to those who worked on the Taj so may years back madk table tops, boxes, and many other souvenirs our of the same material, and even went down to the river to see the Taj from a backside view. That evening we relaxed, looking hard for a spot away from all the other tourists, unsuccessfully, and then went to bed early so we could get up for the sunrise. The sunrise on the Taj was entirely worth it, even with hundreds of others there to see the same thing. There was a quiet that came over everyone as the orange glow finally rose above the eastern side of the building and lit up the passionate structure. Having seen pictures of the Taj throughout my life was nothing compared to its immensity in person. The work that went into the building, the attention to detail, the structured layout, were beyond impressive.
Two nights in Agra and then we were off on another train to Varnasi. We spend another majestic morning watching the sun rise, only this time from a small boat on the sacred Ganges River. Varanasi was another major spot for travelers; such a different feeling being surrounded by so many Westerners as opposed to locals, everywhere we went. In Ethiopia when we went into a restaurant to eat, or stayed in any hotel, even in the capital city, we were always in the minority. It forced us to learn the language, meet locals, try new foods, etc. Nonetheless, Varanasi was a beautiful and colorful city that was most enjoyable viewed from the open-aired seat of a slow-moving cycle-rickshaw. We took a day trip from Varanasi to Sarnath, another pilgrimage site for Buddhists. Here we wandered from temple to temple, seeing how many different nationalities practice Buddhism. We saw a Chinese, Japanese, Tibetan, Burmese, and Thai temple, each one specifically a Buddhist temple, and yet each so different in its structure and the way they portrayed Buddha. It was incredibly interesting. Buddha was lying down made out of wood, sitting and laughing with a huge belly, meditating erect with his eyes closed sheathed in gold, and sitting, but relaxed in the from of terra cotta. The buildings themselves also had very different furnishings, or lack there of, inside. We explored the temples, the town, and, of course, the street ice cream!
From Varanasi we took a train to Gaya, where we hopped in an auto-rickshaw with a few other travelers trying to make it to the city of Bodgaya before a new day began. Arriving just before midnight (our train was late) we crashed into our beds without dinner and woke up the next morning in the city known for the Bodi tree under which Buddha sat for many weeks. Many Tibetans come down to this city during the winter months to pray and meditate at the temple, and because of the amount of pilgrims there are also many temples from around the world here as well. We spend our first afternoon exploring the famed site where Buddha sat, and walked in meditation, and then ate a huge dinner because we had committed to a 24 hour meditation and were not going to have dinner that night. At 5pm we began our Vipassana meditation. I will have to write more about this experience later, but for the next 24 hours we practiced this silent art of sitting and walking. We paid attention to our senses, were not allowed to think about anything but our physical movements, did not speak, write, read, or look anywhere but in a 3ft radius. It was an intense trial of patience and focusing of attention.
Now, we are in Kolkata (Calcuta). We will be here for the next month at least, volunteering. Our orientation was on Friday, and since then we have been exploring the city. We’re going to like it here. There are six of us volunteers starting this month, and there are four that are here and have been here for a couple of months already. We start our projects on Monday: Lori will be working in a slum school and I will be working with a women’s business group, producing fair trade items for export. More on our projects later. I figured it was about time to write a blog from India, and as soon as possible I’ll put up some photos...
Two days later we headed north to Manali by bus, an eleven hour ride, and stepped off into a winter wonderland. We gleefully looked up, as if in a snow globe, and rejoiced in the white Christmas we didn’t have in Ethiopia. Though delightful and making us feel at home, we were ill prepared. We were those people we loathe in their heavy cotton and flip-flops struggling on Flattop! We had our wool, and I had my long underwear (Lori accidentally left hers in Addis), but our airy tennis shoes were immediately soaked through by the first icy puddle we stepped in, and our one pair of tall wool socks was ruined. None of this would be a problem if the hotels had heat in the rooms, or even a fireplace in the lobby where we could dry our things out, but, alas, with power cuts each night the electric heater we paid extra for in our room was a waste, and our clothes were frozen when we woke up in the morning! Needless to say, the next day our mission was to remedy our situation. We ended up with three new pairs of tall woolen socks, rubber boots, a new pair of long underwear for Lori, and a heavy wool coat for me. We were kitted out for winter and ready to explore Manali! We explored the mountain area, the temple so beautiful with snow all around it, and found a fireplace (finally!) late in the day to warm our bones.
Our time was limited since we needed to be in Kolkata (Calcutta) by the 31st of January, so we wanted to see as much of the north as possible. Two nights in Manali and then we got on another bus, this ride exponentially more dangerous, to Dharamshala. That morning everything had frozen and we basically very carefully ice skated from our hotel to the bust station, balancing our bodies and our packs in our very slippery rubber boots. We contemplated waiting a day for things to thaw out, but put our trust into the trip and held on tight when it was our turn in the bus to head down the icy hill out of town. Thankfully, we made it, over a 12 hour ride, and we were even more grateful when we read in the morning’s paper that a few buses had crashed or tipped off the mountain cliffs, in this region, due to the weather. We stayed in McLeod Ganj, the part of town above Dharamshala, where the Dali Lama resides. We ended up spending three nights in this town, our favorite so far, and could have spend three months. The surrounding mountains made for a great day hike, making us long for a week-long hike further back. We visited the main temple, cueing up with Buddhist pilgrims to turn the prayer wheels, and spent a few hours in the Tibet Museum, a well-done exhibit documenting the crimes against Tibet by China. This area is so unique, more Tibetans than Indian. “Danyavad“ (Hindi for “Thank you”) didn’t work here, we had to learn “Two-chi-chay” (phonetic spelling) the Tibetan version. We met some fantastic people, and divulged our senses with shopping, eating Tibetan momos (a lot like potstickers), and drinking apple tea. It was hard to leave, but we headed to Pathankot, a town that borders Pakistan, to catch a train east.
After arriving back in Delhi at 5am from the north we boarded another train to Agra an hour later. By late afternoon we were surrounded by travelers who had come from all over the globe to see the famed Taj Mahal. We ended up meeting a fabulous auto-rickshaw driver at the prepaid stand at the train station who we used later to see the city. We had intended one walking ourselves around to all the sites, but this was a much better option amidst the city bustle. We visited the Agra Fort, built by the same man who commissioned the Taj, a Persian tomb, the Itimad-ud-daulah (the“Baby Taj”), got a chance to see a marble carving shop where artists related to those who worked on the Taj so may years back madk table tops, boxes, and many other souvenirs our of the same material, and even went down to the river to see the Taj from a backside view. That evening we relaxed, looking hard for a spot away from all the other tourists, unsuccessfully, and then went to bed early so we could get up for the sunrise. The sunrise on the Taj was entirely worth it, even with hundreds of others there to see the same thing. There was a quiet that came over everyone as the orange glow finally rose above the eastern side of the building and lit up the passionate structure. Having seen pictures of the Taj throughout my life was nothing compared to its immensity in person. The work that went into the building, the attention to detail, the structured layout, were beyond impressive.
Two nights in Agra and then we were off on another train to Varnasi. We spend another majestic morning watching the sun rise, only this time from a small boat on the sacred Ganges River. Varanasi was another major spot for travelers; such a different feeling being surrounded by so many Westerners as opposed to locals, everywhere we went. In Ethiopia when we went into a restaurant to eat, or stayed in any hotel, even in the capital city, we were always in the minority. It forced us to learn the language, meet locals, try new foods, etc. Nonetheless, Varanasi was a beautiful and colorful city that was most enjoyable viewed from the open-aired seat of a slow-moving cycle-rickshaw. We took a day trip from Varanasi to Sarnath, another pilgrimage site for Buddhists. Here we wandered from temple to temple, seeing how many different nationalities practice Buddhism. We saw a Chinese, Japanese, Tibetan, Burmese, and Thai temple, each one specifically a Buddhist temple, and yet each so different in its structure and the way they portrayed Buddha. It was incredibly interesting. Buddha was lying down made out of wood, sitting and laughing with a huge belly, meditating erect with his eyes closed sheathed in gold, and sitting, but relaxed in the from of terra cotta. The buildings themselves also had very different furnishings, or lack there of, inside. We explored the temples, the town, and, of course, the street ice cream!
From Varanasi we took a train to Gaya, where we hopped in an auto-rickshaw with a few other travelers trying to make it to the city of Bodgaya before a new day began. Arriving just before midnight (our train was late) we crashed into our beds without dinner and woke up the next morning in the city known for the Bodi tree under which Buddha sat for many weeks. Many Tibetans come down to this city during the winter months to pray and meditate at the temple, and because of the amount of pilgrims there are also many temples from around the world here as well. We spend our first afternoon exploring the famed site where Buddha sat, and walked in meditation, and then ate a huge dinner because we had committed to a 24 hour meditation and were not going to have dinner that night. At 5pm we began our Vipassana meditation. I will have to write more about this experience later, but for the next 24 hours we practiced this silent art of sitting and walking. We paid attention to our senses, were not allowed to think about anything but our physical movements, did not speak, write, read, or look anywhere but in a 3ft radius. It was an intense trial of patience and focusing of attention.
Now, we are in Kolkata (Calcuta). We will be here for the next month at least, volunteering. Our orientation was on Friday, and since then we have been exploring the city. We’re going to like it here. There are six of us volunteers starting this month, and there are four that are here and have been here for a couple of months already. We start our projects on Monday: Lori will be working in a slum school and I will be working with a women’s business group, producing fair trade items for export. More on our projects later. I figured it was about time to write a blog from India, and as soon as possible I’ll put up some photos...
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