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.

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

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

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/

Mumbai

1am. Blurry eyes and swollen feet (I will never underestimate the functionality of compression socks) are a clear indicator that I've just stepped off a 16 hour flight from Sydney. It already feels like I'm worlds apart from home, and not just in distance. Otherwise I'm in good spirits about finally being in India, a country I've wanted to visit for so long.
I'd like to think I'm an open minded traveller, a requirement when visiting a country of more than a billion people in population..so I quickly dispel all predisposed warnings of smells and hostile stares and was happy to be welcomed by friendly faces and a rather relaxed customs officer. I wait at carousel four, in the hopes of finding my bag having arrived just as safely as I did. Among me are a mix of businessmen, tourists, locals returning home and...mosquitos. Lots of them (ladies, pack your repellents). Ah, the welcomed sighting of my oversized backpack...I'm ready to go. I look down at my list of to-dos, register on smart traveller, tick. Insurance, tick. Photocopy of my passport and visa, tick etc etc ... I get to the last item, exchange money. I'm told that exchanging money at the point of destination is the more economic thing to do so I'm glad to find a currency exchange booth (did I mention it was 1.30am?) and satisfied to get 5000 rupees for 100 Australian dollars (I'm rich in India!).
I look around for Carolyn, my travel buddy for the next two weeks, we are here on a two week research trip for our upcoming women of strength program in august where a group of women will return to learn more about trafficking prevention. we had taken a leap of faith and organized to meet at a "cafe" close to the exit. I say we took a leap of faith as neither of us had been to mumbai airport before and use quotation marks because the "cafe" ended up being a small blink and you'll miss stall, amongst a gaggle of women draped in beautiful saris who apparently all had the same idea (did I mention it was 1.36am?). I'm overwhelmed by the humidity and mob of men waiting outside holding up name cards of those to be picked up, I scan for Carolyn and was relieved to find her blonde hair stand out in a sea of darkness. We welcome each other with open arms and it sinks in, I'm in India.
We are greeted by our driver from the local hotel we are staying in for the next two days. We get in the car and I buckle up only to be laughed at and told "only the driver wears a seatbelt". Ah, the joys of learning the local culture. We set off, it's dark but the city is still very much alive, evident by the loud noises (insert anchorman reference here) mainly of car horns. If you've been to India before you will know what I'm talking about, but horns are the only form of road rules here, as long as you can be heard, you can drive any way - literally - you want. The orchestra of horns eventually leads us to our hotel, and by no means do I imply luxury when I say hotel, I'll leave it to your imagination but it had a bed, roof and security. And that's all we could ask for. 2.15am. I finally crawl into bed and try to drown out all the noise. I breathe in the Indian air and fall asleep in anticipation of what tomorrow will bring.