Today Carolyn and I travel back to Mumbai on our last leg of the journey.
We have one last stop before heading over to the airport and little did I know how confronting it was going to be.
Perhaps it was because I was slowly letting my guard down, knowing I'd be heading home soon. Perhaps the wave of emotions of the last two weeks were catching up with me but today, for the first time on the trip, I felt sick to the stomach from what I witnessed.
We head over to a red light district, a small community which seems so far removed from the rest of civilised society yet located right off a busy highway. Vasu welcomes us back to Mumbai and escorts us to meet the team at Sahaara. Sahaara is an organisation working to restore dreams to the underprivileged people in Mumbai, and is mostly recognised for their work in the red light districts.
I'd heard and read stories of these districts and watched documentaries so I thought I had a sense of the nature of these places where some women call home, but I won't lie, it was tough. Upon arrival by train to a town not far from the city, we cross a highway, and navigate through a marketplace which to the unassuming eye would end at the garbage dump not far from the last stall. We keep walking up a slight hill, I turn around to catch a glimpse of the passing cars on the now distant highway, and the people in the market going about their everyday life. Beyond the hill we find ourselves at a small one room concrete block, Sahaara's clinic. It's run by volunteer doctors and the staff at Sahaara and it is the place where sex workers from the red light district come to find refuge and medical help. Psychological and physical help is offered here, most women come in for treatment of aids and sexually transmitted diseases. The clinic is located right in the middle of the red light district, making it accessible and welcoming for women and their children.
The staff on duty today welcome us and are passionate in telling the stories of these women. One worker also comes to join us and tells us her story, which now seems familiar.
She works because she has no other skill, grew up with no education, her husband left her and her newborn baby, so now she works here, as a sex worker where one charges as little as two dollars per customer. She works to support her child and so that she doesn't have to grow up to know what she knows and experience the horrors she endures on a daily basis.
The women here fight each other for customers and can host up to 10-15 men a day and to keep up their endurance and stamina they rely heavily on drugs. They pay rent for a small space in a room with no bathroom and light, and can share with up to 3 other women, a thin sheet the only form of partition between them. There were many more stories we heard today, some just too shocking to repeat but the thing that broke my heart most and triggered a feeling of sickness and just complete sadness were the children. The children born out of prostitution, most with aids and not much hope of a life outside what they witness everyday. We take a walk through the red light district - made up of a domino of mud huts, curtains as doors. Here, if a curtain is up, it means open for business, if a curtain is down, a woman is occupied. The rows of huts weave on a muddy platform with narrow gaps between them, the scores of women sitting outside perched on chairs just...waiting...for their next customer. They are friendly and offer smiles and it's a strange feeling, smiling back at someone who seems physically there but spiritually vacant. Some women were sprawled across their beds, high on the drugs which ironically are used to keep them going. The pimps surprisingly are mostly women, it makes sense after we are told that these women used to be prostitutes but now make more money recruiting women.
As we walk through the district, I'm cautious not to pay too much attention beyond the closed curtains, and for the first time in India I feel uneasy and scared, perhaps because as a woman, I understand the absolute abuse of physical liberty all around me. I notice one curtain rustling, at first I thought it was caught in the wind, but before I could look away, a small child lifts the thin sheet and peeps out. It was this moment, I felt physically sick. Knowing that child, nowhere else to go, is sitting in the small space while her mother is occupied with a man. She was barely walking, so must have been just about 18 months old. To think such visuals are etched into such a young mind is all I could handle and pushed me to my limits.
Some of these children attend a day care, in the form of a tiny room, with no natural light, rugs or carpeting, most naked as their mothers can't afford clothes but are nevertheless so happy to be in the presence of other children and have the opportunity to sing and dance, as taught by their 17 year old volunteer teacher who comes across from the next village to help in her spare time from her own studies. Their innocence have already been unfairly taken from them in witnessing their mothers and the environment they are born into but this is the reality for these children...who statistically grow up to be just what they witness.
We make our way out of the district and walk back through the markets and onto the busy highway again, we cross the road to get on a train and again I look back, this time, knowing what is beyond the markets and I shed more tears, tears of helplessness and tears of pain for the women whose lives don't go past the markets.
For your reference:
http://sahaarasociety.org/about_us.html
On the way back back, we also meet with the team at Tender Hands, an organisation dedicated to rescue and rehabilitation of street children and commercial sex workers. They work on shelters, sustainability projects, and most notably teaching women skills such as baking to facilitate restoration into society with a new sense of pride and confidence.
For your reference:
http://tenderhands.org/whoweare.htm
We collect our luggage and head to the airport full of mixed emotions, it's been an incredible two weeks. We were privileged to hear so many stories, meet incredible survivors, witness hope and restoration, learn about the realities of human trafficking, meet dedicated fighters of freedom and justice, was greeted by infectious smiles and the warmest hospitality, and experienced the presence of those who embody the meaning of strength and courage. An unforgettable trip to say the least, a life changing trip, I can't wait to share the stories back home to impart the responsibilities to others so we can as a collective and strength in numbers play our part in preventing this horrific cycle that is human trafficking in all its forms.
After all, I made a promise to so many here to share their stories, it's the least I could do.
Thursday 28 March 2013
Tuesday 26 March 2013
'EVEN A JOURNEY OF 10,000 MILES, STARTS WITH A STEP' - Lao Tzu
After an exhilarating morning on the soccer field, we make our way over to meet with the chairperson of the Child Welfare Committee (CWC). This is a part of the trip I had been particularly excited about, not only because we were privileged to meet with the chairperson but be able to hear the stories first hand of her six years in the coveted position. The stories from a woman no less, who bears so much responsibility for making the decisions which impact the safety and future of so many children.
Today, we not only heard the stories but we sat as witnesses in the committee hearing. No words were needed when we saw a child no more than 13years old (she wasn't convincing in her testimony of being 21 years old) and her tiny baby, wrapped in nothing but cloth, her fragility evident in the manner which a carer carefully cradled her in her arms.
The girl, sobbing is clearly pleading with the chairperson to be able to keep her child but understandably, the chairperson has to make the tough decision to separate them in the meantime, so that the girl may be able to have a chance at a proper education and life. Carolyn and I aren't sure of the girl's story, how a child became a mother to child, but it's a story so common in India. The tragic reality is that most girls bearing children at such a young age aren't from circumstances of choice and not all stories have the opportunity to be heard in a setting such as the committee but by fate this young girl has ended up here today, and we were able to engage silently as the decision was made that she will spend time in rehabilitation and school before being able to reconnect with her child.
Not all cases end with the possibilities of union between mother and child, in fact, we are told that most babies in these situations end up in adoption homes.
Next, we meet a 15 year old girl who enters the room with her visibly upset mother. It doesn't take long for us to realise that this young girl had been sold for marriage and we are shocked to learn that she was forced into a union with a 35 year old deaf and mute man. The girl had run away from him, and the mother was upset that if she isn't returned their family will be threatened and extorted for money.
It's difficult to understand how a 15 year old girl would have the capacity to understand and bear the responsibilities of a marriage let alone be forced into such a situation. The chairperson understandably angry at the mother ends up telling her to leave her courtroom and that if she was to even think about returning the child to the man she would be arrested. The girl stands sobbing, tears streaming down her face, not because of her vulnerability she says but because she "doesn't want mum to be arrested". Carolyn walks up to her and offers her a tissue, and she's taken back by her caring gesture.
The chairperson beckons the girl and as she walks past Carolyn and I, tears still streaming down her face, she manages to smile. A genuine smile. She had felt the unspoken connection with us and as she tried to lock eyes, I had to look away. I didn't want her to see the tears in my eyes as I desperately wanted to smile back at her.
These are only two of many stories we heard today. And of many that are told every other day.
It's hard to believe that still most go untold but this committee and others like it are dedicated to play their part in a myriad of fighters to keep a sense of justice afloat.
Below is a snapshot of the role a CWC plays in a community (from http://www.childlineindia.org.in/Child-Welfare-Committee.htm)
Today, we not only heard the stories but we sat as witnesses in the committee hearing. No words were needed when we saw a child no more than 13years old (she wasn't convincing in her testimony of being 21 years old) and her tiny baby, wrapped in nothing but cloth, her fragility evident in the manner which a carer carefully cradled her in her arms.
The girl, sobbing is clearly pleading with the chairperson to be able to keep her child but understandably, the chairperson has to make the tough decision to separate them in the meantime, so that the girl may be able to have a chance at a proper education and life. Carolyn and I aren't sure of the girl's story, how a child became a mother to child, but it's a story so common in India. The tragic reality is that most girls bearing children at such a young age aren't from circumstances of choice and not all stories have the opportunity to be heard in a setting such as the committee but by fate this young girl has ended up here today, and we were able to engage silently as the decision was made that she will spend time in rehabilitation and school before being able to reconnect with her child.
Not all cases end with the possibilities of union between mother and child, in fact, we are told that most babies in these situations end up in adoption homes.
Next, we meet a 15 year old girl who enters the room with her visibly upset mother. It doesn't take long for us to realise that this young girl had been sold for marriage and we are shocked to learn that she was forced into a union with a 35 year old deaf and mute man. The girl had run away from him, and the mother was upset that if she isn't returned their family will be threatened and extorted for money.
It's difficult to understand how a 15 year old girl would have the capacity to understand and bear the responsibilities of a marriage let alone be forced into such a situation. The chairperson understandably angry at the mother ends up telling her to leave her courtroom and that if she was to even think about returning the child to the man she would be arrested. The girl stands sobbing, tears streaming down her face, not because of her vulnerability she says but because she "doesn't want mum to be arrested". Carolyn walks up to her and offers her a tissue, and she's taken back by her caring gesture.
The chairperson beckons the girl and as she walks past Carolyn and I, tears still streaming down her face, she manages to smile. A genuine smile. She had felt the unspoken connection with us and as she tried to lock eyes, I had to look away. I didn't want her to see the tears in my eyes as I desperately wanted to smile back at her.
These are only two of many stories we heard today. And of many that are told every other day.
It's hard to believe that still most go untold but this committee and others like it are dedicated to play their part in a myriad of fighters to keep a sense of justice afloat.
Below is a snapshot of the role a CWC plays in a community (from http://www.childlineindia.org.in/Child-Welfare-Committee.htm)
"As per the provisions of the Juvenile Justice (Care and Protection of Children) Act 2000 (amended in 2006) State governments are required to establish a CWC or two in ever district. Each CWC should consist of a chairperson and four members. The chairperson should be a person well versed in child welfare issues and at least one member of the board should be a woman. The CWC has the same powers as a metropolitan magistrate or a judicial magistrate of the first class. A child can be brought before the committee (or a member of the committee if necessary) by a police officer, any public servant, CHILDLINE personnel, any social worker or public spirited citizen, or by the child himself/herself.
The CWC usually sends the child to a children's home while the inquiry into the case is conducted for the protection of the child. The CWC meets and interviews the child to learn his/her background information and also understand the problem the child is facing. The probation officer (P.O) in charge of the case must also submit regular reports of the child. The purpose of the CWC is to determine the best interest of the child and find the child a safe home and environment either with his/her original parents or adoptive parents, foster care or in an institution.
A final order must be given within four months of the admission of the child before the CWC. The CWC also has powers to hold people accountable for the child such as in the case of child labour, the employers are fined or made to give bonds to the children. CWC also has the power to transfer the child to a different CWC closer to the child's home or in the child's state to dispose of the case and reunite the child with his family and community."
The Art of Soccer (Bangalore)
Today we say our goodbyes to Alex and Chandni and travel to Bangalore. Here we meet with Anita, the executive director of Oasis India. Anita is yet another inspiring woman who dedicates her life to standing up for the rights of women and children. Strong, courageous, intelligent, passionate and not afraid to speak her mind. Carolyn, Anita and I talk over dinner and we quickly find comfort in knowing that we are all united with the same beliefs, morals and understanding that things need to change. Anita shares many plans and ideas and we are truly excited for what's in store in the next couple of days. Bangalore is different to Mumbai. It's just as busy, but has a sense of calm to it, it seems more cosmopolitan and current, in a less saris and more denim kind of way. Bangalore is full of 'vertical slums'. Modern day slums the government built in an effort to sweep the homeless off the streets and contain them in mass volumes in a high rise building. This way, they don't take up more space where you could build a commercial building or luxury apartments. When I say vertical building, imagine a concrete block, most with minimal or no light, no proper bathroom or kitchen facilities and rooms small enough to barely fit one person let alone a family of ten. It's interesting that the Government seems to have the resources to build and modernise slums yet the problem remains the same.
After dinner we return to a quiet Catholic retreat, our home for the night. It's made up of small dorms and adorned with pictures of the pope. As I sit in my room to write this post, I hear the very distinct sounds of a muslim call to prayer nearby and i'm reminded of the religious diversity of India.
The next morning, we get up early to join Satyaraj, an honourable man who has dedicated his life to taking disadvantaged children off the streets and coaching them soccer, who has kindly invited us to their daily soccer practices. An ex-professional soccer player, Satyaraj now focuses on giving kids hope and direction in life through the art of sport. Practice starts at 7am but when we arrive on the field at 6.30am the kids are already there, full of enthusiasm and energy, unfazed by the early morning hour.
Just as well, as Satyaraj is a man of discipline and is strict on his coaching methods. "It gives them structure and balance", Satyaraj tells us "...they are used to getting up early anyway, as most of them were/are homeless so they get woken up by the rats that occupy the streets". As we watch the boys, some as young as five warm up in their torn canvas shoes, Satyaraj points out one after another and tells us of their stories. These are children who live in makeshift homes covered with a single torn sheet of tarp, assembled in insidious parts of the city streets, often sharing this space with up to ten or more brothers and sisters. Most of them used be or still are beggars, an overwhelmingly obvious issue in Bangalore. We hear of stories of boys being kidnapped and grievously harmed to look more "appealing" as a beggar. Some boys have deep physical scars on their bodies, proof that violence is part of their every lives. Some of these scars have been caused by gang activity. A common story of boys here who end up in gangs and a life of violence and they themselves become the ones to inflict physical and emotional pain on other boys...and the cycle goes on.
The boys on the field today are bonded by common stories of injustice but now all find hope in something they are clearly passionate about. It's amazing to see what happens one one individual is given a sense of direction, sense of security and sense of purpose. These boys have found this and more under Satyaraj's direction - and they are good. I mean really good. Granted, I don't know much about soccer but I know enough to notice a good player when I see one. They are fast, determined, focused, athletic, strong and play as if they are all trying to make Satyaraj and his coaching team proud. The coaching team is made up of boys, now men, who have come through Satyaraj's training program. Some of them have qualified to play in the national team. However, they dedicate most of their time in paying it forward and now training boys who, in so many, they can see their young selves in. David, was homeless, involved in street crime and part of a gang when a chance meeting with Satyaraj changed his life. He is now a key player on the national team and coaches the senior Oasis team.
Anan is another young player. He's 11 years old and one to watch. He has a rare skill in that he can shoot goals and play with both feet, a skill i'm told that is sought after by the elite premiere league soccer teams all around the world. Anan used to sleep on the footpaths each night and Satyaraj and his team noticed that he used to come to training with noticeable wounds on his feet, they soon realised that these wounds were marks left by rats which gnawed on his toes throughout the night. This prompted Satyaraj to quickly find suitable shelter and protective homes for these young boys, and now he and his coaching staff take it upon themselves to live in these shelters with their extended soccer family. The sense of joy is contagious and I didn't even realise the time pass by as I sat and watched pride, freedom, happiness, sense of safety, community and team spirit all embodied in the act of sportsmanship and art of soccer.
After dinner we return to a quiet Catholic retreat, our home for the night. It's made up of small dorms and adorned with pictures of the pope. As I sit in my room to write this post, I hear the very distinct sounds of a muslim call to prayer nearby and i'm reminded of the religious diversity of India.
The next morning, we get up early to join Satyaraj, an honourable man who has dedicated his life to taking disadvantaged children off the streets and coaching them soccer, who has kindly invited us to their daily soccer practices. An ex-professional soccer player, Satyaraj now focuses on giving kids hope and direction in life through the art of sport. Practice starts at 7am but when we arrive on the field at 6.30am the kids are already there, full of enthusiasm and energy, unfazed by the early morning hour.
Just as well, as Satyaraj is a man of discipline and is strict on his coaching methods. "It gives them structure and balance", Satyaraj tells us "...they are used to getting up early anyway, as most of them were/are homeless so they get woken up by the rats that occupy the streets". As we watch the boys, some as young as five warm up in their torn canvas shoes, Satyaraj points out one after another and tells us of their stories. These are children who live in makeshift homes covered with a single torn sheet of tarp, assembled in insidious parts of the city streets, often sharing this space with up to ten or more brothers and sisters. Most of them used be or still are beggars, an overwhelmingly obvious issue in Bangalore. We hear of stories of boys being kidnapped and grievously harmed to look more "appealing" as a beggar. Some boys have deep physical scars on their bodies, proof that violence is part of their every lives. Some of these scars have been caused by gang activity. A common story of boys here who end up in gangs and a life of violence and they themselves become the ones to inflict physical and emotional pain on other boys...and the cycle goes on.
The boys on the field today are bonded by common stories of injustice but now all find hope in something they are clearly passionate about. It's amazing to see what happens one one individual is given a sense of direction, sense of security and sense of purpose. These boys have found this and more under Satyaraj's direction - and they are good. I mean really good. Granted, I don't know much about soccer but I know enough to notice a good player when I see one. They are fast, determined, focused, athletic, strong and play as if they are all trying to make Satyaraj and his coaching team proud. The coaching team is made up of boys, now men, who have come through Satyaraj's training program. Some of them have qualified to play in the national team. However, they dedicate most of their time in paying it forward and now training boys who, in so many, they can see their young selves in. David, was homeless, involved in street crime and part of a gang when a chance meeting with Satyaraj changed his life. He is now a key player on the national team and coaches the senior Oasis team.
Anan is another young player. He's 11 years old and one to watch. He has a rare skill in that he can shoot goals and play with both feet, a skill i'm told that is sought after by the elite premiere league soccer teams all around the world. Anan used to sleep on the footpaths each night and Satyaraj and his team noticed that he used to come to training with noticeable wounds on his feet, they soon realised that these wounds were marks left by rats which gnawed on his toes throughout the night. This prompted Satyaraj to quickly find suitable shelter and protective homes for these young boys, and now he and his coaching staff take it upon themselves to live in these shelters with their extended soccer family. The sense of joy is contagious and I didn't even realise the time pass by as I sat and watched pride, freedom, happiness, sense of safety, community and team spirit all embodied in the act of sportsmanship and art of soccer.
Monday 25 March 2013
SUMANGALI
Sumangali by definition means 'married woman'. If you haven't heard of the Sumangali scheme, please take a few minutes to read information as follows as it will change the way you think about the shirt on your very back.
The sumangali scheme relates closely to the dowri system in India - which by definition is a payment of cash or gifts from the bride's family to the bridegroom's family upon marriage. The dowry understandably puts great financial pressure on a family and is cited to be one of the biggest reasons for feticide/sex selection resulting in a phenomenally distorted ration of women to men in India...and the degradation and dishonourable attitude to women...and so forth. As a result, the payment of dowry became prohibited with the introduction of The Dowry Prohibition Act in 1961, yet thousands (more than 8000 deaths in 2010) of dowry related deaths are reported each year. Dowry deaths are the deaths of young woman who are murdered of driven to suicide due to continuous harassment and torture by in-laws and husbands in an effort to extort an increased dowry. Its ironic that so many dowry related deaths are officially reported yet, kidnapping, selling of humans, and domestic violence are seldom.
Getting back on track...with the dowry system still very much a part of indian culture, the sumangali scheme was designed to work, in theory and started as a good initiative to encourage women to build skills, and make a good living until they get married. In a nutshell, the scheme was introduced as a way of promising young women a small pay each month with a large lump sump payment at the end of three years. During the three years, the women are promised training and development in skills and education. The idea is, with this lump sum at the end of your employment you will have a sufficient dowry in preparation for marriage. As I mentioned, this works...in theory. Over time, corruption, cohesion, deception and desperation makes for an incredibly unjust situation.
Today, Alex takes us to Tiripur to meet Henry and the team at SAVE. Save is an organisation dedicated to child rights, women's developments, labour resourcing and migration. But their rescue and prevention work for women associated with the sumangali scheme is instrumental given Tiripur is the capital of India's garment industry. To give you an idea, 11% of the world's apparel is made in India, and of that 70% of the trade exports from Tiripur. There are 6,500 garment related facilities here and over 700,000 workers, 450,000 migrants that travel from mainly 7 different states in india. When I say travel, I mean voluntarily looking for work or trafficked. In fact, we're told that most are adolescent runaway children come looking for jobs, and up to 15 children per bus into Tiripur (and when you're in Tiripur you'll notice the abundance of buses) are trafficked. There are two kinds of working systems in Tiripur, one is the hostel based system which workers live within the factory compounds and the other you opt for your own accommodation should you be able to afford it. The latter is not an option for most. The 90% of workers aged between 15-19 years end up in the hostel based system (10% are aged 25+) in which living standards are below substandard. In fact, most supply little and unhygienic food, poor accommodation (up to 30 women sleep in a small room, with no mattresses, windows, air or light), no access to toilets, no holiday (some cases report for every day you take leave be it for being sick or attending a family members funeral you accrue an extra month work with no pay), and most shocking of all, women are allegedly fed hormones to prevent their menstrual cycles so to minimise disruption to their working day. These aren't facts I read about but first hand accounts of 12 women who so passionately shared their stories with us today. They waited for 3 hours for our arrival at a small office run by a local gentleman who has dedicated his life to saving and campaigning for the rights of these women. 12 women, 1 hour, too many shocking stories which left us completely speechless. We were so welcomed but perhaps it was our foreign demeanour, it was hard to get anyone to talk. However, as Carolyn and I started making conversation with 12 women who were strangers themselves to us, we quickly felt familiar and comfortable for them to expose their experiences - and candid they were. One by one, their voices got louder, they got angrier, they got more passionate - they wanted to be heard. One woman told us she had to work an extra year with no pay because she fell ill, one woman told us she witnessed the death of her friend who had fallen and got her hair caught in a mill, one woman told us of the hormones fed to them but they didn't think much of it until they fell ill...and then made to work extra days and months in lieu without pay...and so the cycle goes on. Deaths are a common occurrence in these factories, but covered up and identities of the deceased tossed away as if they never existed, literally, or so their families are told.
The toughest part for these women are not that they are so mistreated but that at the end of their working term, they get fired prematurely for unknown reasons and don't get a payment at all. If they do, it's minimal, the factory owners citing that they needed to cut their pay for accommodation, food, leave...even more devastating is that the lack of education leads to women continuously being exploited to this scheme even sisters of these very women we had met.
The most touching moment of today was when one of the women held my hand as we were leaving and made me promise we would return to tell their story, and we embraced and held each other for awhile and all I could do was nod.
We can't just tell their story, we need to change their story.
The next time you pick up a piece of clothing, spare a thought for these women and children, not just in India but all around the world because they too have paid a price.
For your reference...
http://www.fairlabor.org/report/understanding-sumangali-scheme-tamil-nadus-textile-garment-industry
http://www.ethicaltrade.org/in-action/programmes/garments-and-textiles-india
The sumangali scheme relates closely to the dowri system in India - which by definition is a payment of cash or gifts from the bride's family to the bridegroom's family upon marriage. The dowry understandably puts great financial pressure on a family and is cited to be one of the biggest reasons for feticide/sex selection resulting in a phenomenally distorted ration of women to men in India...and the degradation and dishonourable attitude to women...and so forth. As a result, the payment of dowry became prohibited with the introduction of The Dowry Prohibition Act in 1961, yet thousands (more than 8000 deaths in 2010) of dowry related deaths are reported each year. Dowry deaths are the deaths of young woman who are murdered of driven to suicide due to continuous harassment and torture by in-laws and husbands in an effort to extort an increased dowry. Its ironic that so many dowry related deaths are officially reported yet, kidnapping, selling of humans, and domestic violence are seldom.
Getting back on track...with the dowry system still very much a part of indian culture, the sumangali scheme was designed to work, in theory and started as a good initiative to encourage women to build skills, and make a good living until they get married. In a nutshell, the scheme was introduced as a way of promising young women a small pay each month with a large lump sump payment at the end of three years. During the three years, the women are promised training and development in skills and education. The idea is, with this lump sum at the end of your employment you will have a sufficient dowry in preparation for marriage. As I mentioned, this works...in theory. Over time, corruption, cohesion, deception and desperation makes for an incredibly unjust situation.
Today, Alex takes us to Tiripur to meet Henry and the team at SAVE. Save is an organisation dedicated to child rights, women's developments, labour resourcing and migration. But their rescue and prevention work for women associated with the sumangali scheme is instrumental given Tiripur is the capital of India's garment industry. To give you an idea, 11% of the world's apparel is made in India, and of that 70% of the trade exports from Tiripur. There are 6,500 garment related facilities here and over 700,000 workers, 450,000 migrants that travel from mainly 7 different states in india. When I say travel, I mean voluntarily looking for work or trafficked. In fact, we're told that most are adolescent runaway children come looking for jobs, and up to 15 children per bus into Tiripur (and when you're in Tiripur you'll notice the abundance of buses) are trafficked. There are two kinds of working systems in Tiripur, one is the hostel based system which workers live within the factory compounds and the other you opt for your own accommodation should you be able to afford it. The latter is not an option for most. The 90% of workers aged between 15-19 years end up in the hostel based system (10% are aged 25+) in which living standards are below substandard. In fact, most supply little and unhygienic food, poor accommodation (up to 30 women sleep in a small room, with no mattresses, windows, air or light), no access to toilets, no holiday (some cases report for every day you take leave be it for being sick or attending a family members funeral you accrue an extra month work with no pay), and most shocking of all, women are allegedly fed hormones to prevent their menstrual cycles so to minimise disruption to their working day. These aren't facts I read about but first hand accounts of 12 women who so passionately shared their stories with us today. They waited for 3 hours for our arrival at a small office run by a local gentleman who has dedicated his life to saving and campaigning for the rights of these women. 12 women, 1 hour, too many shocking stories which left us completely speechless. We were so welcomed but perhaps it was our foreign demeanour, it was hard to get anyone to talk. However, as Carolyn and I started making conversation with 12 women who were strangers themselves to us, we quickly felt familiar and comfortable for them to expose their experiences - and candid they were. One by one, their voices got louder, they got angrier, they got more passionate - they wanted to be heard. One woman told us she had to work an extra year with no pay because she fell ill, one woman told us she witnessed the death of her friend who had fallen and got her hair caught in a mill, one woman told us of the hormones fed to them but they didn't think much of it until they fell ill...and then made to work extra days and months in lieu without pay...and so the cycle goes on. Deaths are a common occurrence in these factories, but covered up and identities of the deceased tossed away as if they never existed, literally, or so their families are told.
The toughest part for these women are not that they are so mistreated but that at the end of their working term, they get fired prematurely for unknown reasons and don't get a payment at all. If they do, it's minimal, the factory owners citing that they needed to cut their pay for accommodation, food, leave...even more devastating is that the lack of education leads to women continuously being exploited to this scheme even sisters of these very women we had met.
The most touching moment of today was when one of the women held my hand as we were leaving and made me promise we would return to tell their story, and we embraced and held each other for awhile and all I could do was nod.
We can't just tell their story, we need to change their story.
The next time you pick up a piece of clothing, spare a thought for these women and children, not just in India but all around the world because they too have paid a price.
For your reference...
http://www.fairlabor.org/report/understanding-sumangali-scheme-tamil-nadus-textile-garment-industry
http://www.ethicaltrade.org/in-action/programmes/garments-and-textiles-india
SAVE school for rescued children
Saturday 23 March 2013
AGAPE (LOVE).
One the most humbling parts of our journey has been the privilege of meeting dedicated and passionate people with tender hearts to make a change - however big or small, they never underestimate the power of community and determination to push on, regardless of the unavoidable feelings of doubt which sinks in after continuously facing despair and injustice, more often than not putting their own lives at risk for others. Today we are on the way to meet another inspirational team.
We travel onto Dharmapuri, Tamil Nadu, located toward the south of india. From Guwahati airport, we board a 4 hour flight to Bangalore and here we are greeted by Alex, who runs the AGAPE Foundation. He has travelled 4 hours by car to pick us up from the airport and will now accompany us back the way he travelled where he and his family have generously opened up their home for us to stay for the next few days. Carolyn and I have truly been grateful for the overwhelming hospitality and welcome in India and this was no exception.
It's late, but our minds are never tired, always hungry for more information. Along the way, we have the opportunity to learn much about the local area. We learn that here, we will find India's largest tuberculosis (tb) population where someone dies of the disease nearly every minute. Here we will find the most number of feticide which inherently leads to the most number of child marriages (children younger than ten years old get sold or arranged to get married), here we will find the most number of feticide, and here we will find the reality of the sumangali scheme (more on these to come). We are greeted at home by Alex's wife, Chandni. It's close to 2am but she had waited up to greet us and ensure a safe arrival. It's evident that Alex and Chandni's hospitality stretches beyond our stay, their doors are always open to neighbours, church family, anyone in need, including patients that Chandni looks after. Chandni is a doctor who runs a clinic as part of the foundation to assist in offering medical care to those who have limited or no access, especially in the care of patients suffering from tb. This is just one part of AGAPE's mission which also includes community development, raising awareness and treatment of infectious diseases, prevention of human trafficking and child abuse, promote livelihoods and entrepreneurship development programs and formation of self help and community based organisations. They also run a school for children who otherwise would be deprived of a basic education, they started with less than ten children, mostly those of neighbours and church members and now have more than 80 enrolled students from areas near and afar. Over the three days we spend with Alex and Chandni, we visit the school (which is also the place of worship for the congregation Alex pastors), the clinics, speak with local contacts who have formed ACT (Active Communities against Trafficking) groups to specifically promote prevention of child marriages, and learn that on average, only 2 cases of kidnapping gets officially reported per year, despite the phenomenal number of children that get taken each day - it's overwhelming to think how hard to you have to fight for what are such basic human rights. Rights we most often take for granted.
We visit Panagrah, a village tucked away from the busy streets from which it borders, literally, folded in an obscure path which you would not even notice had you just walked obliviously past it. The common factor with the villages we have visited is that they are forgotten pods of society, shunned away from civilisation, because let's face it, it's easier to forget if you can't see right?
Walking through these villages is like walking through an old deserted colony. There are homes built with sticks and stones with plastic roofs, stray dogs and dry tumbleweed blowing through the emptiness. You wouldn't think people occupied these villages if it weren't for the abundance of chickens and occasional curious child peeping through the makeshift windows. Yet again, there is a strange sense of community that holds these villages together. We meet with a family who after being connected with Alex and Chandni (through the medical clinics they run) and hearing of the work they do, decided to form an ACT group within their village. The sense of ownership and accountability of their community is evident and I think, if ACT groups can operate in the most remote and isolated communities in India what excuses do we, living in privilege, have in not caring? This family meets with the team at AGAPE and take it upon themselves to educate their community and be the point of contact to continue to enable growth and development in their village. On our way home, we stop by a UNICEF run NCLP (National Child Labour Protection) school which aims to restore education to children who have been saved from various forms of forced labour. The school is a small concrete block, with limited light and no heating/cooling access, small bathroom, no rugs, carpets or books in sight. Yet, the walls are covered with colourful drawings, and the writing on the wall is literally words of encouragement and hope. Words which will hopefully educate the children to enable self protection against the dangers of trafficking and forced labour. The 20 or so students are very young in age, ranging from kindergarten to primary school age. They greet us with those infectious smiles, the same we've seen on every child we have met at schools here in India. Perhaps they are just happy to be at school. Perhaps they are just happy to be in the presence of other children, perhaps they are happy to be in a safe environment. The joyful energy is transcending and you can't help but feel hope and energy every time you walk into a classroom. The children will usually sing a song or show us what they have been working on and here we find a very special chart - it's an inspiration chart, where each child has listed what they want to be when they grow up. Doctors, teachers, nurses seem to be professions of choice. We ask why they chose these particular professions and they say its because they can then help others. It's simple when you put it that way isn't it? They are ecstatic to take a picture and it's not so evident in the pictures of their smiling faces that they were once in such a vulnerable and abusive situation. It's hometime and they all pick up their matching backpacks (thank you UNICEF) some outweighing their tiny frames and they wave one by one as they leave. When we ask why school finished earlier here than other schools we are told it's because most of these children have to walk for 2 hours to get home. 2 hours to school. 2 hours back. It's hard to imagine that such tiny feet can carry the weight for that long every single day. But it seems it makes them stronger. And they wouldn't have it any other way. They sure don't complain about homework either, in fact, I told that they are hungry for it.
Over the course of the weekend we also visit another village which the government ironically built and named Kothadimy which means - slave. 25 homes and families rescued from bonded labour at a coal mine live in this colony. We met with a woman who had worked in the coal mine for 40 years, and had started there when she was sold off to pay off her family's alleged debt. Her son now works at the same coal mine, and he voluntarily took her place. Despite her knowledge of the abuse and mistreatment there she tells me with a distinct quiver in her voice, that she is powerless to bring her own son home, for if she speaks up 'great danger will come to him'. Threat and bribery are common practice here and a way of life which continues to distort, fail and disillusion the innocent.
Stories like these break my spirit and hope but i'm quickly reminded that my role isn't to fix all of this but to acknowledge, learn and walk in humilty with those who have kindly shared their stories of survival and strength. And through recognising the work of all the organisations and people who continue to be a vessel of communication for those who need to be heard a constant balance of encouragement and hope weighs against despair and heartbreak.
Carolyn and I are in town at the right time as AGAPE invite us to join with them on a monthly Stop TB day rally in a local village. We don our shirts and visors and join in a conga line of children and AGAPE team members who proceed to walk through this particular village, handmade signs and flyers in tow. Children are familiar with the proceedings and are excited to participate in the rally. They provide the voice for the rally, their unbroken voices shouting out "I WILL STOP TB IN MY LIFETIME" echoes through the village. Curious people peep through their windows and step out and the children and AGAPE team don't waste a single opportunity to raise much needed awareness in the area. The flyers are decorated with images and diagrams outlining the symptoms of TB and how easily it can be treated. Graphic information on what could happen if untreated seems enough to prompt anyone to seek (free) medical assistance. The work AGAPE is doing in these villages seems to be working as they have treated hundreds of patients since opening their clinics in these villages. Alex and Chandni are passionate to further develop education and treatment as tuberculosis continues to be a major public health problem in India. India accounts for one-fifth of the global TB incident cases. Each year nearly 2 million people in India develop TB or which almost half are infectious cases. It's estimated that 350,000 people die of TB each year, that's nearly a thousand people a day die of a disease that in this day and age is so easily cured. Unfortunately stigma and lack of education continues to prevent TB from being eradicated but the voices of one community at a time seems to be the key for now. We drive home after a long day and are treated to a warm hearty dinner with Alex, Chandni, Lydia and Elango who are the extended family at AGAPE. After many conversations around the table, Chandni and I find each other in a space where we can converse further. Chandni, like myself, seems to process events and experiences through verbalisation so we gladly continue to talk about her work, her faith, family and relationships. From the minute I met Chandni, I knew she was the kind of woman who if she puts her mind to something she could do anything. She's a doctor, mother, wife, friend, councillor, drummer, keyboard player and singer in the praise team and most of all a woman of strength. So, Chandni, if you're reading this, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you once again for your words, encouragement, giving me hope through your actions and most of all cementing my belief in the strength and grace of women - traits which you truly personify.
For your reference...
http://www.agapefoundation.asia
We travel onto Dharmapuri, Tamil Nadu, located toward the south of india. From Guwahati airport, we board a 4 hour flight to Bangalore and here we are greeted by Alex, who runs the AGAPE Foundation. He has travelled 4 hours by car to pick us up from the airport and will now accompany us back the way he travelled where he and his family have generously opened up their home for us to stay for the next few days. Carolyn and I have truly been grateful for the overwhelming hospitality and welcome in India and this was no exception.
It's late, but our minds are never tired, always hungry for more information. Along the way, we have the opportunity to learn much about the local area. We learn that here, we will find India's largest tuberculosis (tb) population where someone dies of the disease nearly every minute. Here we will find the most number of feticide which inherently leads to the most number of child marriages (children younger than ten years old get sold or arranged to get married), here we will find the most number of feticide, and here we will find the reality of the sumangali scheme (more on these to come). We are greeted at home by Alex's wife, Chandni. It's close to 2am but she had waited up to greet us and ensure a safe arrival. It's evident that Alex and Chandni's hospitality stretches beyond our stay, their doors are always open to neighbours, church family, anyone in need, including patients that Chandni looks after. Chandni is a doctor who runs a clinic as part of the foundation to assist in offering medical care to those who have limited or no access, especially in the care of patients suffering from tb. This is just one part of AGAPE's mission which also includes community development, raising awareness and treatment of infectious diseases, prevention of human trafficking and child abuse, promote livelihoods and entrepreneurship development programs and formation of self help and community based organisations. They also run a school for children who otherwise would be deprived of a basic education, they started with less than ten children, mostly those of neighbours and church members and now have more than 80 enrolled students from areas near and afar. Over the three days we spend with Alex and Chandni, we visit the school (which is also the place of worship for the congregation Alex pastors), the clinics, speak with local contacts who have formed ACT (Active Communities against Trafficking) groups to specifically promote prevention of child marriages, and learn that on average, only 2 cases of kidnapping gets officially reported per year, despite the phenomenal number of children that get taken each day - it's overwhelming to think how hard to you have to fight for what are such basic human rights. Rights we most often take for granted.
We visit Panagrah, a village tucked away from the busy streets from which it borders, literally, folded in an obscure path which you would not even notice had you just walked obliviously past it. The common factor with the villages we have visited is that they are forgotten pods of society, shunned away from civilisation, because let's face it, it's easier to forget if you can't see right?
Walking through these villages is like walking through an old deserted colony. There are homes built with sticks and stones with plastic roofs, stray dogs and dry tumbleweed blowing through the emptiness. You wouldn't think people occupied these villages if it weren't for the abundance of chickens and occasional curious child peeping through the makeshift windows. Yet again, there is a strange sense of community that holds these villages together. We meet with a family who after being connected with Alex and Chandni (through the medical clinics they run) and hearing of the work they do, decided to form an ACT group within their village. The sense of ownership and accountability of their community is evident and I think, if ACT groups can operate in the most remote and isolated communities in India what excuses do we, living in privilege, have in not caring? This family meets with the team at AGAPE and take it upon themselves to educate their community and be the point of contact to continue to enable growth and development in their village. On our way home, we stop by a UNICEF run NCLP (National Child Labour Protection) school which aims to restore education to children who have been saved from various forms of forced labour. The school is a small concrete block, with limited light and no heating/cooling access, small bathroom, no rugs, carpets or books in sight. Yet, the walls are covered with colourful drawings, and the writing on the wall is literally words of encouragement and hope. Words which will hopefully educate the children to enable self protection against the dangers of trafficking and forced labour. The 20 or so students are very young in age, ranging from kindergarten to primary school age. They greet us with those infectious smiles, the same we've seen on every child we have met at schools here in India. Perhaps they are just happy to be at school. Perhaps they are just happy to be in the presence of other children, perhaps they are happy to be in a safe environment. The joyful energy is transcending and you can't help but feel hope and energy every time you walk into a classroom. The children will usually sing a song or show us what they have been working on and here we find a very special chart - it's an inspiration chart, where each child has listed what they want to be when they grow up. Doctors, teachers, nurses seem to be professions of choice. We ask why they chose these particular professions and they say its because they can then help others. It's simple when you put it that way isn't it? They are ecstatic to take a picture and it's not so evident in the pictures of their smiling faces that they were once in such a vulnerable and abusive situation. It's hometime and they all pick up their matching backpacks (thank you UNICEF) some outweighing their tiny frames and they wave one by one as they leave. When we ask why school finished earlier here than other schools we are told it's because most of these children have to walk for 2 hours to get home. 2 hours to school. 2 hours back. It's hard to imagine that such tiny feet can carry the weight for that long every single day. But it seems it makes them stronger. And they wouldn't have it any other way. They sure don't complain about homework either, in fact, I told that they are hungry for it.
Over the course of the weekend we also visit another village which the government ironically built and named Kothadimy which means - slave. 25 homes and families rescued from bonded labour at a coal mine live in this colony. We met with a woman who had worked in the coal mine for 40 years, and had started there when she was sold off to pay off her family's alleged debt. Her son now works at the same coal mine, and he voluntarily took her place. Despite her knowledge of the abuse and mistreatment there she tells me with a distinct quiver in her voice, that she is powerless to bring her own son home, for if she speaks up 'great danger will come to him'. Threat and bribery are common practice here and a way of life which continues to distort, fail and disillusion the innocent.
Stories like these break my spirit and hope but i'm quickly reminded that my role isn't to fix all of this but to acknowledge, learn and walk in humilty with those who have kindly shared their stories of survival and strength. And through recognising the work of all the organisations and people who continue to be a vessel of communication for those who need to be heard a constant balance of encouragement and hope weighs against despair and heartbreak.
Carolyn and I are in town at the right time as AGAPE invite us to join with them on a monthly Stop TB day rally in a local village. We don our shirts and visors and join in a conga line of children and AGAPE team members who proceed to walk through this particular village, handmade signs and flyers in tow. Children are familiar with the proceedings and are excited to participate in the rally. They provide the voice for the rally, their unbroken voices shouting out "I WILL STOP TB IN MY LIFETIME" echoes through the village. Curious people peep through their windows and step out and the children and AGAPE team don't waste a single opportunity to raise much needed awareness in the area. The flyers are decorated with images and diagrams outlining the symptoms of TB and how easily it can be treated. Graphic information on what could happen if untreated seems enough to prompt anyone to seek (free) medical assistance. The work AGAPE is doing in these villages seems to be working as they have treated hundreds of patients since opening their clinics in these villages. Alex and Chandni are passionate to further develop education and treatment as tuberculosis continues to be a major public health problem in India. India accounts for one-fifth of the global TB incident cases. Each year nearly 2 million people in India develop TB or which almost half are infectious cases. It's estimated that 350,000 people die of TB each year, that's nearly a thousand people a day die of a disease that in this day and age is so easily cured. Unfortunately stigma and lack of education continues to prevent TB from being eradicated but the voices of one community at a time seems to be the key for now. We drive home after a long day and are treated to a warm hearty dinner with Alex, Chandni, Lydia and Elango who are the extended family at AGAPE. After many conversations around the table, Chandni and I find each other in a space where we can converse further. Chandni, like myself, seems to process events and experiences through verbalisation so we gladly continue to talk about her work, her faith, family and relationships. From the minute I met Chandni, I knew she was the kind of woman who if she puts her mind to something she could do anything. She's a doctor, mother, wife, friend, councillor, drummer, keyboard player and singer in the praise team and most of all a woman of strength. So, Chandni, if you're reading this, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you once again for your words, encouragement, giving me hope through your actions and most of all cementing my belief in the strength and grace of women - traits which you truly personify.
UNICEF National Child Labour Protection School
Inspiration Board at NCLP School
Panagrah Village
STOP TB Rally
For your reference...
http://www.agapefoundation.asia
Friday 22 March 2013
Rhinoceros Dreaming
3.45am. I wake up to the sound of roaring thunder, violent rays of lightning flashing through my room. The sound of heavy rain is welcomed as it cools the dry Assam land. I peel myself off my bed and wait for my eyes to adjust to the dim shades of lamps peeping through the curtains. It may be early but I'm excited, we're off to see the rhinos at the world famous Kaziranga National Park. I'm told, if we're lucky, the tigers, water buffalos, wild birds and even hyenas may make an appearance, it's likely too, with all the wet weather. All this on elephant back! A small treat to provide a break from the daily learnings and demanding travel schedule. We wait for a driver to come pick us up...we wait for 45minutes and finally we are greeted by the sound of an engine pulling up in the driveway.
The driver is determined to make up for lost time and breaks all (if any) road rules to get us there. 1.5 hours later we arrive to see a group of people and their elephant companions ride off into the sunrise...evidently, elephants, rhinos and tigers don't wait. We see a rhino in the distance, claiming its territory over the fast land - I can see why the wildlife tours here are so popular and famous. Ah well, next time. Nearby, an elephant and her baby must have sensed our disappointment as they gently walked towards us, just close enough for me to notice a gentle smile on the calf. The early morning drive was worth it. We drive back, crawl back into bed to get some shut eye before a long journey ahead to Dharmapuri.
Oh, I should also mention that during our stay here in Tezpur and the team at Baptist Christian Hospital (a unit of Emmanuel Hospital Association), we met with wonderful volunteers who work tirelessly with Dr Pratibha on the grounds in villages, schools and also petitioning signatures for Stop The Traffik!
We also had the privilege of meeting Jeremiah, who works closely with Dr Pratibha on the grounds in the villages we visited. He works amongst the people and lives to build safe communities, he also promised us that he will take us to Bhutan on a small pony next time! It's now in writing Jeremiah!
We also came across a very sick goat, which, all humour aside, was the only source of livelihood for two women who were working to build a life after being rescued by their mother from domestic labour. It had been attacked by a local dog and god works in mysterious ways as we happened to be visiting with a doctor on board, who used Carolyn's betadine cream and antibiotic to treat the wounds - I'm telling you, our aussie medication came in handy more than once, not for us but for the locals, humans and animals alike!
In all, it's been an amazing learning journey here in Assam, and we leave with humble hearts to see what is in store for us on the south side of india.
The driver is determined to make up for lost time and breaks all (if any) road rules to get us there. 1.5 hours later we arrive to see a group of people and their elephant companions ride off into the sunrise...evidently, elephants, rhinos and tigers don't wait. We see a rhino in the distance, claiming its territory over the fast land - I can see why the wildlife tours here are so popular and famous. Ah well, next time. Nearby, an elephant and her baby must have sensed our disappointment as they gently walked towards us, just close enough for me to notice a gentle smile on the calf. The early morning drive was worth it. We drive back, crawl back into bed to get some shut eye before a long journey ahead to Dharmapuri.
Oh, I should also mention that during our stay here in Tezpur and the team at Baptist Christian Hospital (a unit of Emmanuel Hospital Association), we met with wonderful volunteers who work tirelessly with Dr Pratibha on the grounds in villages, schools and also petitioning signatures for Stop The Traffik!
We also had the privilege of meeting Jeremiah, who works closely with Dr Pratibha on the grounds in the villages we visited. He works amongst the people and lives to build safe communities, he also promised us that he will take us to Bhutan on a small pony next time! It's now in writing Jeremiah!
We also came across a very sick goat, which, all humour aside, was the only source of livelihood for two women who were working to build a life after being rescued by their mother from domestic labour. It had been attacked by a local dog and god works in mysterious ways as we happened to be visiting with a doctor on board, who used Carolyn's betadine cream and antibiotic to treat the wounds - I'm telling you, our aussie medication came in handy more than once, not for us but for the locals, humans and animals alike!
In all, it's been an amazing learning journey here in Assam, and we leave with humble hearts to see what is in store for us on the south side of india.
Thursday 21 March 2013
Find a cause and the means will follow
We travel onto Udalguri, one of the 27 districts in Assam, but face an obstacle along the way. We are stopped by military guards who are keeping observation in the area in case of conflict during a bandh which has been called for 48hours. Bandh, a Hindi word for "closed" is a form of protest used by political activists. A strike you might call it. We are told that Bandhs are common practice in Assam, usually called by underground activists for various reasons. It happens so much so that an average student in Assam takes an extra two years to graduate because of limited access to school during bandhs where everything in the region is forced to shut down. Risks of riots are extremely high during these times so military escorts are provided for certain organizations including EHA when traveling through the districts. we wait for our escort vehicle to come and we are finally back on the road, full military unit truck powering on ahead. Along the way we see a truck that has been torched and burnt to its frames, a sign of violence and anger amongst the people of Assam. While driving through udalguri, we learn that a local tribe, the boros heavily occupy the area, more than 50 percent in fact and they are fighting to gain control of the plains they occupy. There are frequent violent conflicts which occurs between the boros and authorities and the tribe often participate in rituals such as beheading of those suspected of witchcraft, kidnappings and blowing up public infrastructure including railway lines. They are regarded highly dangerous when it comes to trafficking and consider the more number of slaves they have as a sign of prosperity and wealth.
We arrive safely at a tea garden in udalguri and we are met by 7 local pastors who have gathered at quaint local church to tell us their stories on the fight against trafficking. We are also joined by leaders and members of the local student union, a powerful body which acts somewhat as the authority figure in these districts. Not just in Assam but in many parts of India, the voice of the youth is becoming increasingly influential and they play am integral part in rescuing and recognizing trafficking agents. In some cases, they become judge, jury and executioner when the police don't act against trafficking, a common problem in a country where bribes are common practice. The secretary of the tea garden has also joined us, but is very cautious of the information he shares. When we ask if they use children in their gardens he quickly responds to say that when they do they make sure fair wage and good working conditions are provided, a scripted answer found in manuals for child laborers I'm sure.
We spend a good hour in discussion with the pastors and the like and we are encouraged by their pro activeness in forming an ACT group (active communities against trafficking) and find hope in their stories of a few rescue missions, education for children and efforts to remove the stigma within their communities of being a trafficking victim. Another unfortunate side to trafficking, especially for women is that they often are rejected from their own communities and aren't allowed to marry or even get jobs once they are recognized as being a victim (I prefer survivor) of trafficking...and so they look for acceptance in the wrong places and they vulnerability leads to the cycle to begin again.
The pastors are keen on keeping in touch and are excited about our return in August.
We are offered a gift by the secretary - bags of tea and we accept out of respect. Although instincts tell us that behind the carefully guarded walls of the gardens, blood, sweat and tears are poured into the picking of each tea leaf.
We continue our journey into Bormukuli, a small village of 75 families, situated just 5km from the Bhutan border. We arrive to a warm welcome with a song sung by the community, our hands washed and then presented individually with a local scarf as a sign of welcome and love. I look up as a woman draped in a beautiful sari washes my hands and presents me with a scarf, only to catch a glimpse of the Bhutanese mountains in the near distance. It's quite surreal and if a week ago someone told me I would be standing where I was I wouldn't have believed them.
It is in this community we find most hope and encouragement in our fight against trafficking. Here, trafficking was a common occurrence only 10-15 years ago, but since then through education, prevention, awareness and community support they formed a local ACT group, the most remote ACT group we could come across and here they are today with zero accounts of trafficking reported last year. This area is particularly vulnerable to trafficking with its proximity to the Bhutan border yet they have managed to put in practices and regulations to enable a safe environment for their women and children. This small act group basically provides education to their women and children not only of the dangers of trafficking but also the economics of trafficking. They teach their community that although trafficking agents may offer more money in other cities the cost of living outweighs any savings and calculations show that they can earn ore money by living in the village. They have set up a local economy in the form of crops and vegetable growing - a key component of preventing trafficking. To ensure that there is safe work in the community to eradicate vulnerability and instead provide sustainability. Otherwise, it becomes so easy to fall into the traps of trafficking, over and over again. This ACT group also implements a strict interview, counseling, and education program if someone wishes to leave the community to work so they make an informed decision and furthermore keeps a registry who end up leaving and take on the responsibility of following up to ensure they are working under good conditions. As a result of this collaborative effort and solid structure and support network, only two men have left the community to work in other areas and we are pleased to hear that they are working under good conditions. This community is s testament to the positive outcomes when a community bands together, as they say it takes a community to raise a child.
We spend the afternoon being spoilt with food, archery and great conversations. We are disappointed to leave but excited to return to hopefully hear many more stories.
On the way home, Dr Singh, Dr David (another doctor who had joined us on our travels today), Vasu, Carolyn and I share many laughs and share stories on our individual lives and experiences. That's the silver lining to a 4 hour drive back home. The heavens opened up and the much needed rain begins to our down accompanied by the roar of thunder. A nice cool breeze whips through the car and the smell of rain is much welcomed. The skies are pink as the sun sets and we finish our eventful day with a special dinner with the hospital family. The rain continues to pour, a prelude to monsoon season.
For your reference...
http://www.stopthetraffik.org/how-to-start-one
http://www.krepublishers.com/02-Journals/T%20&%20T/T%20&%20T-04-0-000-000-2006-Web/T%20&%20T-04-1-001-076-2006-Abst-PDF/T%20&%20T-04-1-057-062-2006-088-Narzary-P-K/T%20&%20T-04-1-057-062-2006-088-Narzary-P-K-Text.pdf
We arrive safely at a tea garden in udalguri and we are met by 7 local pastors who have gathered at quaint local church to tell us their stories on the fight against trafficking. We are also joined by leaders and members of the local student union, a powerful body which acts somewhat as the authority figure in these districts. Not just in Assam but in many parts of India, the voice of the youth is becoming increasingly influential and they play am integral part in rescuing and recognizing trafficking agents. In some cases, they become judge, jury and executioner when the police don't act against trafficking, a common problem in a country where bribes are common practice. The secretary of the tea garden has also joined us, but is very cautious of the information he shares. When we ask if they use children in their gardens he quickly responds to say that when they do they make sure fair wage and good working conditions are provided, a scripted answer found in manuals for child laborers I'm sure.
We spend a good hour in discussion with the pastors and the like and we are encouraged by their pro activeness in forming an ACT group (active communities against trafficking) and find hope in their stories of a few rescue missions, education for children and efforts to remove the stigma within their communities of being a trafficking victim. Another unfortunate side to trafficking, especially for women is that they often are rejected from their own communities and aren't allowed to marry or even get jobs once they are recognized as being a victim (I prefer survivor) of trafficking...and so they look for acceptance in the wrong places and they vulnerability leads to the cycle to begin again.
The pastors are keen on keeping in touch and are excited about our return in August.
We are offered a gift by the secretary - bags of tea and we accept out of respect. Although instincts tell us that behind the carefully guarded walls of the gardens, blood, sweat and tears are poured into the picking of each tea leaf.
We continue our journey into Bormukuli, a small village of 75 families, situated just 5km from the Bhutan border. We arrive to a warm welcome with a song sung by the community, our hands washed and then presented individually with a local scarf as a sign of welcome and love. I look up as a woman draped in a beautiful sari washes my hands and presents me with a scarf, only to catch a glimpse of the Bhutanese mountains in the near distance. It's quite surreal and if a week ago someone told me I would be standing where I was I wouldn't have believed them.
It is in this community we find most hope and encouragement in our fight against trafficking. Here, trafficking was a common occurrence only 10-15 years ago, but since then through education, prevention, awareness and community support they formed a local ACT group, the most remote ACT group we could come across and here they are today with zero accounts of trafficking reported last year. This area is particularly vulnerable to trafficking with its proximity to the Bhutan border yet they have managed to put in practices and regulations to enable a safe environment for their women and children. This small act group basically provides education to their women and children not only of the dangers of trafficking but also the economics of trafficking. They teach their community that although trafficking agents may offer more money in other cities the cost of living outweighs any savings and calculations show that they can earn ore money by living in the village. They have set up a local economy in the form of crops and vegetable growing - a key component of preventing trafficking. To ensure that there is safe work in the community to eradicate vulnerability and instead provide sustainability. Otherwise, it becomes so easy to fall into the traps of trafficking, over and over again. This ACT group also implements a strict interview, counseling, and education program if someone wishes to leave the community to work so they make an informed decision and furthermore keeps a registry who end up leaving and take on the responsibility of following up to ensure they are working under good conditions. As a result of this collaborative effort and solid structure and support network, only two men have left the community to work in other areas and we are pleased to hear that they are working under good conditions. This community is s testament to the positive outcomes when a community bands together, as they say it takes a community to raise a child.
We spend the afternoon being spoilt with food, archery and great conversations. We are disappointed to leave but excited to return to hopefully hear many more stories.
On the way home, Dr Singh, Dr David (another doctor who had joined us on our travels today), Vasu, Carolyn and I share many laughs and share stories on our individual lives and experiences. That's the silver lining to a 4 hour drive back home. The heavens opened up and the much needed rain begins to our down accompanied by the roar of thunder. A nice cool breeze whips through the car and the smell of rain is much welcomed. The skies are pink as the sun sets and we finish our eventful day with a special dinner with the hospital family. The rain continues to pour, a prelude to monsoon season.
For your reference...
http://www.stopthetraffik.org/how-to-start-one
http://www.krepublishers.com/02-Journals/T%20&%20T/T%20&%20T-04-0-000-000-2006-Web/T%20&%20T-04-1-001-076-2006-Abst-PDF/T%20&%20T-04-1-057-062-2006-088-Narzary-P-K/T%20&%20T-04-1-057-062-2006-088-Narzary-P-K-Text.pdf
Tea gardens
Assam is a state in India that borders 2 countries,Bhutan and Bangladesh, and six other states.
Borders means susceptibility to illegal immigration, and so a heavy military presence is evident wherever we travel in Assam.
Assam is famous for its tea, and there are 5 types of tea (assam, darjeeling, nilgiri, earl grey and mystery tea) grown on thousands of gardens with more than 70,000 laborers working on them.
If you've ever had a cup of tea, it's most likely that it has come from a tea garden in Assam.
On the surface, tea gardens seem like tranquil places of serenity and peace. I mean, all the greenery of the tea leaves, trees gently swaying in the wind, leaf pickers calmly going about their business, who would ever think otherwise? In fact, I'm told that tourists and visitors to Assam are encouraged to visit a tea garden where they can sip on a nice cup of tea, enjoy the views and learn about the seemingly innocent process of making tea. Beneath the surface however, a dark truth lies of cohesion, bonded labour and unbelievable sub standards of living. We learn that on a large garden approximately 15,000 - 20,000 laborers who are born into generations of slavery on these lands work just to keep the house they are given in the family. By house, I mean a bamboo shack covered with mud. They live in colonies on the property of the gardens, placed close enough to work efficiently but far enough so no unsuspecting eye can see the truth. Trafficking doesn't happen so much into the tea gardens but out of them is a common occurrence, with 40% of these gardens trafficking hundreds of children out a year.
Children don't go to school, and malnutrition is so rampant, it's evident when we take a walk around the gardens and we come across a group of the residents, the children are half naked, unwashed and their small stomachs are extremely bloated - a sure sign of malnutrition and worms.
We then meet a small boy, who couldn't have been older than 8 who had a wrap securely tied around him. Upon closer inspection I can see that it's a baby, who looks only a few weeks old, extremely small, skinny and dehydrated sleeping in his brothers arms. I ask the boy where his mother is and he tells me she's at work so he must care for his brother. My heart sank and I had to turn away with a tear in my eye. Its an image I will remember for the rest of my life.
For your reference...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assam
http://nehu-economics.info/PhD-Synopsis/g-sarma-synopsis.pdf
http://tehelka.com/mayhem-in-the-tea-garden/
Borders means susceptibility to illegal immigration, and so a heavy military presence is evident wherever we travel in Assam.
Assam is famous for its tea, and there are 5 types of tea (assam, darjeeling, nilgiri, earl grey and mystery tea) grown on thousands of gardens with more than 70,000 laborers working on them.
If you've ever had a cup of tea, it's most likely that it has come from a tea garden in Assam.
On the surface, tea gardens seem like tranquil places of serenity and peace. I mean, all the greenery of the tea leaves, trees gently swaying in the wind, leaf pickers calmly going about their business, who would ever think otherwise? In fact, I'm told that tourists and visitors to Assam are encouraged to visit a tea garden where they can sip on a nice cup of tea, enjoy the views and learn about the seemingly innocent process of making tea. Beneath the surface however, a dark truth lies of cohesion, bonded labour and unbelievable sub standards of living. We learn that on a large garden approximately 15,000 - 20,000 laborers who are born into generations of slavery on these lands work just to keep the house they are given in the family. By house, I mean a bamboo shack covered with mud. They live in colonies on the property of the gardens, placed close enough to work efficiently but far enough so no unsuspecting eye can see the truth. Trafficking doesn't happen so much into the tea gardens but out of them is a common occurrence, with 40% of these gardens trafficking hundreds of children out a year.
Children don't go to school, and malnutrition is so rampant, it's evident when we take a walk around the gardens and we come across a group of the residents, the children are half naked, unwashed and their small stomachs are extremely bloated - a sure sign of malnutrition and worms.
We then meet a small boy, who couldn't have been older than 8 who had a wrap securely tied around him. Upon closer inspection I can see that it's a baby, who looks only a few weeks old, extremely small, skinny and dehydrated sleeping in his brothers arms. I ask the boy where his mother is and he tells me she's at work so he must care for his brother. My heart sank and I had to turn away with a tear in my eye. Its an image I will remember for the rest of my life.
For your reference...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assam
http://nehu-economics.info/PhD-Synopsis/g-sarma-synopsis.pdf
http://tehelka.com/mayhem-in-the-tea-garden/
Wednesday 20 March 2013
Role Models
4.30am. Early morning start to catch our flight to Guwahati, Assam. We meet Vasu at the airport and after swift security checks we board our flight. A quick stopover in Kolkata and we are on our way to Assam, the tea gardens state. Mid flight I'm asked by a flight attendant if I wish to change sears as one on the right hand side had become available. You see, Vasu had originally requested for us to be seated on the right hand side of the plane to be able to view the himalayan mountains on our descent into Guwahati but to our disappointment there were none available, but upon spotting one being vacated, Vasu quickly requested that the flight attendant move me to the prime vantage point where I was able to get a picture perfect snapshot. That's just the kind of person Vasu is.
Upon landing we drive for 4 hours and finally arrive at Emmanuel Hospital Association (EHA), a self funded hospital which runs independently funded community projects. Our home for the next couple of days. It's hard to believe that it's the only hospital within a 200km radius.
Here we are greeted by Dr Pratibha Singh, a former dental surgeon who now heads up the community health unit.
It's comforting to know that in a world of superficial role models there are real women of strength, independence, intelligence, grace and conviction who aren't afraid of standing up for what is right. Dr Singh is one role model we have had the privilege of getting to know over our few days in Assam. She and her team began community health and development projects in 2006 when a malaria epidemic was claiming up to 7 deaths a day. You'll be happy to know that through Dr Singh and her teams relentless work on building awareness and treatment program no cases, yes ZERO, cases of malaria was reported last year. It was during this fight against malaria that the team came across another problem. They noticed an eight year old boy who had severe trauma to his head and his teeth had all been knocked out. Before they could investigate further the young boy had died. Eventually it was revealed that this boy was beaten severely by his "evangelist" step father and mother. This lead to more questions about child abuse and eventually trafficking was identified as clear problem in the area. I'm not sure how I can ever process the information Dr Singh then continued to educate us with...in fact, how can anyone process the fact that a mother is willing to sell her own child for two dollars, and less than in the very hospital we were sitting in (in this area the average cost of a two year old child is $2US and 11 year old $40US - did I just say child and cost in the same sentence???), how can anyone process the fact that female feticide still occurs with baby girls being choked by grains, wrapped in plastic and thrown out with the rest of the garbage, or thrown into the river to be eaten alive by ants, how can anyone process the fact that a 3 year old girl sold into an abusive home has been burnt so badly but refused any medical attention, how can anyone process the fact that girls are being smuggled into countries as far as the middle east, how can anyone process the fact that a mother and her seven children have to escape bonded labour and walk for 8 hours in the night to seek medical attention with two of the children arriving at the hospital unconscious, how can one process the fact that girls are sold at the age of 2, frequently sexually abused by the time they are 5, married by the time they are 10 and pregnant many times over when they reach puberty. I don't think I or anyone could every process these realities but they are real stories to tell, our stories to tell, as long as we, being a part of humanity, continue to let this happen.
We ask Dr Singh what keeps her going and she gracefully replies that it's the two girls they rescued from a bus stop last week, it's the baby they rescued from the river banks, it's the hope that's restored in the children's eyes once they start rehabilitation, it's one child at a time...that's what keeps her going. Dr Singh also coordinates and runs a school for rescued women to help educate and rehabilitate.
Human trafficking and modern day slavery is a global issue and needs to be stopped by prevention and education. Raising awareness and creating noise and conversations are key on a collective scale. I'm quickly learning that if I thought I knew about humans trafficking before, I was in for a rude awakening about the depths and unfathomable truths of this modern day epidemic.
Tonight, as I sit and write, I'm thankful for silence. Silence in a world so full of noise we often forget about the harsh realities of life. Silence so I can try and process the education we've had today, but I come to the realization that sometimes things can't be processed but rather used to create a platform of change. We can't sit silent anymore.
For your reference...
http://www.ehastrc.org/about-us/emmanuel-hospital-association.html
Upon landing we drive for 4 hours and finally arrive at Emmanuel Hospital Association (EHA), a self funded hospital which runs independently funded community projects. Our home for the next couple of days. It's hard to believe that it's the only hospital within a 200km radius.
Here we are greeted by Dr Pratibha Singh, a former dental surgeon who now heads up the community health unit.
It's comforting to know that in a world of superficial role models there are real women of strength, independence, intelligence, grace and conviction who aren't afraid of standing up for what is right. Dr Singh is one role model we have had the privilege of getting to know over our few days in Assam. She and her team began community health and development projects in 2006 when a malaria epidemic was claiming up to 7 deaths a day. You'll be happy to know that through Dr Singh and her teams relentless work on building awareness and treatment program no cases, yes ZERO, cases of malaria was reported last year. It was during this fight against malaria that the team came across another problem. They noticed an eight year old boy who had severe trauma to his head and his teeth had all been knocked out. Before they could investigate further the young boy had died. Eventually it was revealed that this boy was beaten severely by his "evangelist" step father and mother. This lead to more questions about child abuse and eventually trafficking was identified as clear problem in the area. I'm not sure how I can ever process the information Dr Singh then continued to educate us with...in fact, how can anyone process the fact that a mother is willing to sell her own child for two dollars, and less than in the very hospital we were sitting in (in this area the average cost of a two year old child is $2US and 11 year old $40US - did I just say child and cost in the same sentence???), how can anyone process the fact that female feticide still occurs with baby girls being choked by grains, wrapped in plastic and thrown out with the rest of the garbage, or thrown into the river to be eaten alive by ants, how can anyone process the fact that a 3 year old girl sold into an abusive home has been burnt so badly but refused any medical attention, how can anyone process the fact that girls are being smuggled into countries as far as the middle east, how can anyone process the fact that a mother and her seven children have to escape bonded labour and walk for 8 hours in the night to seek medical attention with two of the children arriving at the hospital unconscious, how can one process the fact that girls are sold at the age of 2, frequently sexually abused by the time they are 5, married by the time they are 10 and pregnant many times over when they reach puberty. I don't think I or anyone could every process these realities but they are real stories to tell, our stories to tell, as long as we, being a part of humanity, continue to let this happen.
We ask Dr Singh what keeps her going and she gracefully replies that it's the two girls they rescued from a bus stop last week, it's the baby they rescued from the river banks, it's the hope that's restored in the children's eyes once they start rehabilitation, it's one child at a time...that's what keeps her going. Dr Singh also coordinates and runs a school for rescued women to help educate and rehabilitate.
Human trafficking and modern day slavery is a global issue and needs to be stopped by prevention and education. Raising awareness and creating noise and conversations are key on a collective scale. I'm quickly learning that if I thought I knew about humans trafficking before, I was in for a rude awakening about the depths and unfathomable truths of this modern day epidemic.
Tonight, as I sit and write, I'm thankful for silence. Silence in a world so full of noise we often forget about the harsh realities of life. Silence so I can try and process the education we've had today, but I come to the realization that sometimes things can't be processed but rather used to create a platform of change. We can't sit silent anymore.
For your reference...
http://www.ehastrc.org/about-us/emmanuel-hospital-association.html
Tuesday 19 March 2013
True Survivors
We leave Nirmal Bhavan with mixed emotions. We carried heavy hearts for Z's story but at the same time felt hope and love through her survival. Survival takes on a whole new meaning here, and with each woman we meet we see the true definition of survivors.
We move onto the Learning and Livelihood Centre (LLC) which Oasis operates to provide ongoing education, empowerment and integration back into society for women who have been rescued from trafficking. Here we meet 4 more survivors, U, P, R and T. All their names representing hope. We are accompanied by Accamma who runs Nirmal Bhavan and we meet Soulika and Abhay both who facilitate in the running of LLC. They take us through the programs where each woman is equipped with the academic and social development required to safely progress in their lives. A program is specifically designed for each woman as they are at different phases of rehabilitation and from the program charts it's clear that they are designed to provide a balanced education for all.
We get introduced to four young women who have been rescued and all who have been at LLC for various lengths of time. One is U is studying for her final exams in accounting, P is a tailoring apprentice learning from T, and R who is learning to become a beautician. Its evident these women do not take education for granted. Their eyes light up when we ask them what they want to do after they finish their training. They are determined and courageous. Their stories are similar to that of Z's the difference being that one U escaped from punching a hole through the roof of her captors and P is recovering from alcoholism at the tender age of 16. We sit in a circle and chat, like girls do, about boys (P was quick to ask me if I was married, apparently an universal question I can't seem to escape wherever I go, sigh. She says God is still searching for me, amen) jobs, Australia, kangaroos, aspirations, dreams and hope. They are candid about their experiences but we can sense that certain experiences still requires an alternative truth, to mask the depth of trauma and mental scarring endured. These women define what it means to be survivors.
We say our goodbyes for now and the women joyfully head home, a home now free of violence and oppression. Accamma kindly escorts Carolyn and I on a long bus ride home, where we are left once again to wonder in silence how this injustice can go on.
We move onto the Learning and Livelihood Centre (LLC) which Oasis operates to provide ongoing education, empowerment and integration back into society for women who have been rescued from trafficking. Here we meet 4 more survivors, U, P, R and T. All their names representing hope. We are accompanied by Accamma who runs Nirmal Bhavan and we meet Soulika and Abhay both who facilitate in the running of LLC. They take us through the programs where each woman is equipped with the academic and social development required to safely progress in their lives. A program is specifically designed for each woman as they are at different phases of rehabilitation and from the program charts it's clear that they are designed to provide a balanced education for all.
We get introduced to four young women who have been rescued and all who have been at LLC for various lengths of time. One is U is studying for her final exams in accounting, P is a tailoring apprentice learning from T, and R who is learning to become a beautician. Its evident these women do not take education for granted. Their eyes light up when we ask them what they want to do after they finish their training. They are determined and courageous. Their stories are similar to that of Z's the difference being that one U escaped from punching a hole through the roof of her captors and P is recovering from alcoholism at the tender age of 16. We sit in a circle and chat, like girls do, about boys (P was quick to ask me if I was married, apparently an universal question I can't seem to escape wherever I go, sigh. She says God is still searching for me, amen) jobs, Australia, kangaroos, aspirations, dreams and hope. They are candid about their experiences but we can sense that certain experiences still requires an alternative truth, to mask the depth of trauma and mental scarring endured. These women define what it means to be survivors.
We say our goodbyes for now and the women joyfully head home, a home now free of violence and oppression. Accamma kindly escorts Carolyn and I on a long bus ride home, where we are left once again to wonder in silence how this injustice can go on.
Z's Story
Vasu suggests that we take a train to our next destination, as we wouldn't have the total Indian experience otherwise. I was excited at this possibility as I'd heard about trains in India as much as the food and culture. When we got to the station we paid 5 rupees, I had to do the calculation in my head twice as this equated to 1/10 of an Australian dollar. We don't even have one cent currency in Australia! We walk up the stairs, the platform slowly revealing itself and we reach the top just in time to see a train pass by at fast speed...and everything I'd heard and imagine was true. The carriages were packed, so much so that people were spilling out of them, hanging on for dear life, the breeze casually passing through their hair. Vasu sees my expression and tells me that this isn't peak time so there's not many people on the trains. If we had come a few hours later we would have witnessed people, young and old, on the roofs of these trains and that approximately 8-9 people die every day as a result of overcrowding. Next time i'm on a crowded train I will think twice about complaining. Vasu sends Carolyn and I off to the women's section and the train quickly arrives. We pile in and I wait for the doors to close but alas, no door. We hang on to what we could in the middle of the carriage while other women comfortably stand as the barriers to the carriage slightly tilting their heads out to maintain balance. An indian experience indeed.
We arrive at Nirmal Bhavan "house of purity" a home for rescued women.
Here we meet Z, one of the women who had found refuge at Oasis and is now working as a mentor to other girls who find themselves in similar situations as she once faced. That's the thing about human trafficking, Z's story isn't just her story, it's the story of so many.
Z was ten years old when her mother passed away. Faced with an abusive, alcoholic father she ran away from home and was picked up by a woman at the local train station. The woman promised her a home and work and so Z was lured into a web of deception. Very traumatic experiences ensue in a house with other trafficked children including mistreatment, slavery, no pay, electrocution to keep them awake at night, hormone injections given to girls to control their menstrual cycles, sexual, verbal and physical abuse...the list goes on. Z goes on to show us her wrists, where a few scars are evident on her wrists and arms. She and other children used to cut themselves to escape the pain of the cruelty of the only world they knew of and eventually after many years of torture she would sit in desperation and pray that she'd contract a terminal disease so she could be free. My heart broke and left me speechless to think that we live in a time where once innocent children robbed of their fragility and pureness wished upon themselves deadly diseases in a desperate bid to leave the world that was supposed to protect them.
Sadly, Z ended up with HIV, an epidemic that still blankets this nation.
She ends her story with a whisper, our translator communicates to us her sentiments.
"Oasis is my father and mother, and forgiveness is what truely freed me".
Z is now happily married and lives to tell her story in a bid to free others.
* for the protection of identities and respect of privacy I wont reveal full names of the victims and survivors on my posts
** all stories on my posts are that of the of survivors, some facts may not yet be officially documented
We arrive at Nirmal Bhavan "house of purity" a home for rescued women.
Here we meet Z, one of the women who had found refuge at Oasis and is now working as a mentor to other girls who find themselves in similar situations as she once faced. That's the thing about human trafficking, Z's story isn't just her story, it's the story of so many.
Z was ten years old when her mother passed away. Faced with an abusive, alcoholic father she ran away from home and was picked up by a woman at the local train station. The woman promised her a home and work and so Z was lured into a web of deception. Very traumatic experiences ensue in a house with other trafficked children including mistreatment, slavery, no pay, electrocution to keep them awake at night, hormone injections given to girls to control their menstrual cycles, sexual, verbal and physical abuse...the list goes on. Z goes on to show us her wrists, where a few scars are evident on her wrists and arms. She and other children used to cut themselves to escape the pain of the cruelty of the only world they knew of and eventually after many years of torture she would sit in desperation and pray that she'd contract a terminal disease so she could be free. My heart broke and left me speechless to think that we live in a time where once innocent children robbed of their fragility and pureness wished upon themselves deadly diseases in a desperate bid to leave the world that was supposed to protect them.
Sadly, Z ended up with HIV, an epidemic that still blankets this nation.
She ends her story with a whisper, our translator communicates to us her sentiments.
"Oasis is my father and mother, and forgiveness is what truely freed me".
Z is now happily married and lives to tell her story in a bid to free others.
* for the protection of identities and respect of privacy I wont reveal full names of the victims and survivors on my posts
** all stories on my posts are that of the of survivors, some facts may not yet be officially documented
Lane 1.
Borivli is a suburban area located approximately 18km from Mumbai city.
Slums seem to be an economic necessity in India and although not legally recognized they become validated over time. After hearing more about slums from Vasu, its clear that they aren't exempt from the politics and complexities of being a community.
We are greeted but Tandur and Sonal, who are also part of the Oasis team and work in the slum community in Borivli - lane 1 to be exact. Here, the slum is divided into lanes and numbered as such, a pseudo address for those who inhabit them. 40 lanes, 10,000 people. Within the lanes there are even smaller alleyways which would seem to be invisible if you weren't made aware of them, here people take up residence in whatever space they can find. Here for the first time I notice a distinct smell. A smell you would expect in a place of poor hygiene and abundance of garbage. It's also a pungent reminder of the realities of slums and poverty.
We stop in front of a small space half way down lane 1. It's shielded by a thin makeshift curtain which, when peeled back reveals a small group of children, all not much older than 3. It's a day care class in progress, we'd walked in somewhere between c is for cat and 2 apples in a market.
Rosie is also with oasis and coordinates the class for the day care. By day care I mean about 10 children crammed in a room no bigger then probably your bathrooms at home. It's labelled as a day care but it's really a protection mechanism for children who would otherwise be so vulnerable to the realities of kidnapping which occurs as often as you would take a sip of water in a single day. In fact, statistics show that a women or child goes missing every 7 minutes in India.
We take a walk down the lane and it's evident the extent of poverty that exists in these slums. But life goes on, children in school uniform skip joyfully down the lane, hand in hand, I sense the strong sense of community which takes me back to Tijuana and Delmas - two other communities we have participated in community developments - That's the difference in these parts of the world to Australia, the poor are never lonely.
The team in Borivli also provide health assistance to 15 families affected by HIV and support in breaking down barrriers and remove stigma to enable integration in society.
Sonal advises Carolyn and I that when we come back in August it is monsoon season in India and Borivli will look different as the grounds rise with water and with this so does the underground waste. Homes get flooded but she says with grace that the community adapt to each climate and again, life goes on.
We continue to listen and it quickly becomes evident that our journey here will be full of conversations, as each person we meet and every community we visit will have their own unique story.
For now we say goodbye and walk out of lane 1 onto the busy road, the labyrinth of poverty now behind me.
For your reference...
http://www.oasisindia.org/
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/29/world/asia/in-indian-slum-misery-work-politics-and-hope.html?_r=2&hp
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/12/books/review/katherine-boos-behind-the-beautiful-forevers-explores-a-mumbai-slum.html?pagewanted=all
Slums seem to be an economic necessity in India and although not legally recognized they become validated over time. After hearing more about slums from Vasu, its clear that they aren't exempt from the politics and complexities of being a community.
We are greeted but Tandur and Sonal, who are also part of the Oasis team and work in the slum community in Borivli - lane 1 to be exact. Here, the slum is divided into lanes and numbered as such, a pseudo address for those who inhabit them. 40 lanes, 10,000 people. Within the lanes there are even smaller alleyways which would seem to be invisible if you weren't made aware of them, here people take up residence in whatever space they can find. Here for the first time I notice a distinct smell. A smell you would expect in a place of poor hygiene and abundance of garbage. It's also a pungent reminder of the realities of slums and poverty.
We stop in front of a small space half way down lane 1. It's shielded by a thin makeshift curtain which, when peeled back reveals a small group of children, all not much older than 3. It's a day care class in progress, we'd walked in somewhere between c is for cat and 2 apples in a market.
Rosie is also with oasis and coordinates the class for the day care. By day care I mean about 10 children crammed in a room no bigger then probably your bathrooms at home. It's labelled as a day care but it's really a protection mechanism for children who would otherwise be so vulnerable to the realities of kidnapping which occurs as often as you would take a sip of water in a single day. In fact, statistics show that a women or child goes missing every 7 minutes in India.
We take a walk down the lane and it's evident the extent of poverty that exists in these slums. But life goes on, children in school uniform skip joyfully down the lane, hand in hand, I sense the strong sense of community which takes me back to Tijuana and Delmas - two other communities we have participated in community developments - That's the difference in these parts of the world to Australia, the poor are never lonely.
The team in Borivli also provide health assistance to 15 families affected by HIV and support in breaking down barrriers and remove stigma to enable integration in society.
Sonal advises Carolyn and I that when we come back in August it is monsoon season in India and Borivli will look different as the grounds rise with water and with this so does the underground waste. Homes get flooded but she says with grace that the community adapt to each climate and again, life goes on.
We continue to listen and it quickly becomes evident that our journey here will be full of conversations, as each person we meet and every community we visit will have their own unique story.
For now we say goodbye and walk out of lane 1 onto the busy road, the labyrinth of poverty now behind me.
For your reference...
http://www.oasisindia.org/
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/29/world/asia/in-indian-slum-misery-work-politics-and-hope.html?_r=2&hp
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/12/books/review/katherine-boos-behind-the-beautiful-forevers-explores-a-mumbai-slum.html?pagewanted=all
Oasis
It's always a privilege to meet people who work as the eyes, ears and hearts of the invisible. They provide a voice for the misplaced and marginalized and put names to faces who otherwise would have been just another statistic in situations sometimes so dire, it seems impossible to even make a difference.
Today, we were connected with the team at Oasis India. They work tirelessly, often invisible themselves, to restore dignity and grace to women who have suffered soul destroying traumas so unfathomable, no human should ever have to endure. I was humbled by the teams compassion, love and dedication to changing the lives of others and having the courage to stand up for what is not only right but give those rights back to those who have been so aggressively victimized.
We first meet Vasu. He works as the director of programs at Oasis India and it was particularly significant when he came to greet us at our hotel in the morning as we had been in conversation with him for several months as our point of contact and coordinator of our journey here. Vasu is just as pleasant in person as he has been over many prior emails and Skype conversations and is such a wise man with a heart of gold. We are in great hands.
After a short debate on where we should go to start our debrief we decide on the only logical answer...McDonalds. No journey is ever complete without experiencing the local McDee!
A couple of hotcakes later (for your reference, hotcakes in India taste the same as Australia) we get down to business. Vasu outlines the programs for the next couple of weeks in detail, 7 states in 10 days.
We will be working with the oasis team and various other organizations who share the same heart for the prevention of human trafficking.
We meet Abu and Seena, programs managers who both have kindly come to greet us. In Mumbai, Oasis run 9 projects, 6 of which focus on individual care on the trafficked and abused and 3 focus on wider community development. You can find out more about the various projects Oasis run on their website but they include the following:
6 which focus on individual care
1. Drop in centre for women who provide outreach, education and rehabilitation programs
2. Day care centre for children which is a safe place for them to be looked after while parents work
3. Night shelter for children of women who work in brothels
4. Government home where young girls and women who have been rescued initially stay
5. they are then moved to rehabilitation centre called Nirmalbhaban, which means "house of purity" where they can spend 9months to 2yrs focusing on recovering and education to enable means of independence back in society
6. Learning and livelihood centre, a 9-5 training facility to equip the women and girls with further education and employment opportunities
The hope here is then the women and girls are able to sustain an independent living with the ongoing support of Oasis.
3 community development projects, 2 in Bandra and 1 in Borivli (both Bandra and Borivli are slums in Mumbai)
1. Blue Edge in Bandra is a program which focuses on education and Learning programs for youth, boys and girls, who have dropped out of school so that they can be equipped with skills in computer, English and general well being so that they don't fall into the trap of trafficking
2. Also in Bandra, federation strengthening and self help groups focus on empowering women and providing education of managing finances
3. In Borivli, Oasis provides assistance in child care and comprehensive health inputs for 15 families affected by HIV.
These are only some of the projects Oasis run in India and abroad. I tell Vasu that I'm excited to get on the road and officially start our journey. I came to India expecting the unexpected, in anticipation of sharing stories, be educated and be further equipped of the realities of trafficking. Looking back on our first day, l had underestimated the power of being present, of hearing the stories first hand, and understand the deep responsibility that was to be bestowed upon us.
We hop on a rickshaw (or rick as they are known here) which is essentially a motorcycle with a metal shell around it. There are no doors, seatbelts or etiquette in riding a rick. In fact, in general, the only road rule in India is that there are none. We weave through cars, buses, entire families on motorcycles, men hanging off trucks, cows, people, more men hanging off trucks. I say weave because that's what vehicles in India do, weave in and out of any space they can fit. Cars, ricks, buses it doesn't matter, if it's quicker to drive on the other side of the road that's ok too (WoS who will be here in August, you may resort to a few gasps, teeth clenching and double takes on the road when you experience transport for the first time in India, but you quickly get used to it).
20 minutes later, We arrive in a slum district in Borivli.
For your reference...
http://www.oasisindia.org/
Today, we were connected with the team at Oasis India. They work tirelessly, often invisible themselves, to restore dignity and grace to women who have suffered soul destroying traumas so unfathomable, no human should ever have to endure. I was humbled by the teams compassion, love and dedication to changing the lives of others and having the courage to stand up for what is not only right but give those rights back to those who have been so aggressively victimized.
We first meet Vasu. He works as the director of programs at Oasis India and it was particularly significant when he came to greet us at our hotel in the morning as we had been in conversation with him for several months as our point of contact and coordinator of our journey here. Vasu is just as pleasant in person as he has been over many prior emails and Skype conversations and is such a wise man with a heart of gold. We are in great hands.
After a short debate on where we should go to start our debrief we decide on the only logical answer...McDonalds. No journey is ever complete without experiencing the local McDee!
A couple of hotcakes later (for your reference, hotcakes in India taste the same as Australia) we get down to business. Vasu outlines the programs for the next couple of weeks in detail, 7 states in 10 days.
We will be working with the oasis team and various other organizations who share the same heart for the prevention of human trafficking.
We meet Abu and Seena, programs managers who both have kindly come to greet us. In Mumbai, Oasis run 9 projects, 6 of which focus on individual care on the trafficked and abused and 3 focus on wider community development. You can find out more about the various projects Oasis run on their website but they include the following:
6 which focus on individual care
1. Drop in centre for women who provide outreach, education and rehabilitation programs
2. Day care centre for children which is a safe place for them to be looked after while parents work
3. Night shelter for children of women who work in brothels
4. Government home where young girls and women who have been rescued initially stay
5. they are then moved to rehabilitation centre called Nirmalbhaban, which means "house of purity" where they can spend 9months to 2yrs focusing on recovering and education to enable means of independence back in society
6. Learning and livelihood centre, a 9-5 training facility to equip the women and girls with further education and employment opportunities
The hope here is then the women and girls are able to sustain an independent living with the ongoing support of Oasis.
3 community development projects, 2 in Bandra and 1 in Borivli (both Bandra and Borivli are slums in Mumbai)
1. Blue Edge in Bandra is a program which focuses on education and Learning programs for youth, boys and girls, who have dropped out of school so that they can be equipped with skills in computer, English and general well being so that they don't fall into the trap of trafficking
2. Also in Bandra, federation strengthening and self help groups focus on empowering women and providing education of managing finances
3. In Borivli, Oasis provides assistance in child care and comprehensive health inputs for 15 families affected by HIV.
These are only some of the projects Oasis run in India and abroad. I tell Vasu that I'm excited to get on the road and officially start our journey. I came to India expecting the unexpected, in anticipation of sharing stories, be educated and be further equipped of the realities of trafficking. Looking back on our first day, l had underestimated the power of being present, of hearing the stories first hand, and understand the deep responsibility that was to be bestowed upon us.
We hop on a rickshaw (or rick as they are known here) which is essentially a motorcycle with a metal shell around it. There are no doors, seatbelts or etiquette in riding a rick. In fact, in general, the only road rule in India is that there are none. We weave through cars, buses, entire families on motorcycles, men hanging off trucks, cows, people, more men hanging off trucks. I say weave because that's what vehicles in India do, weave in and out of any space they can fit. Cars, ricks, buses it doesn't matter, if it's quicker to drive on the other side of the road that's ok too (WoS who will be here in August, you may resort to a few gasps, teeth clenching and double takes on the road when you experience transport for the first time in India, but you quickly get used to it).
20 minutes later, We arrive in a slum district in Borivli.
For your reference...
http://www.oasisindia.org/
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