It’s not what it sounds like. In Nepal, a cabin restaurant is where a man comes to order food but receives much more from his waitress. From the outside it looks like a small family owned restaurant. There are stock photos of Asian food on the windows and the building is painted a bright green, a color you would find in a preschool. The waitress offers the customer a menu where he orders his meal of choice. The menu consists of local Nepali food, but its not the food he comes for. He comes for the girl’s body. One of the items on the menu is called the restaurant special. They wont tell us what that consists of, but we know.
Some squad mates and I order sodas to pay for our waitress’s time. We sit together and chat in a wooden cubicle barely large enough for the few of us. There are two benches and a small table. Our backs are pressed up against the wood and our knees are touching. The florescent lighting is harsh, just like the atmosphere. The space is small, but on a daily basis it’s plenty big enough for unimaginable things to take place. We squeeze into our cubicle and try not to think of what happens regularly in this space.
We chat and our waitress tells us her name through broken English. Ashima, she says she’s 18 years old. She giggles while she shows us videos of Justin Bieber. Yes, I enjoy working here she says. We spend time laughing and taking selfies together until she’s tells us the truth about her life. Her mother is sick, and this work is her only option to send money to her family. She makes $40 a month, $1.30 per day.
We pray for Ashima, if this is really her name, and then the flood gates open. The Holy Spirit does His thing while we pray for her in english. Even though she can’t understand our English prayers, she’s crying. As she cries the thick layers of eyeliner she’s wearing starts to wash away. Tear by tear the unbothered front she puts up is breaking down. Out of embarrassment she smudges her eyeliner trying to appear unaffected by her feelings and by her reality.
But we know. We know its not easy. While we can only imagine the pain that comes from selling your body to provide for your family. We know this isn’t the life she wanted for herself. We know these aren’t the problems 18 year old girls should have to face. We know this isn’t the life her Father in heaven has planned for her.
To twist the knife in a little further, the owners of this cabin restaurant claim to be Christian. The man in charge takes out his bible when he hears us taking about Christianity. If this man, the one who owns her and encourages her to use her body for his business is the only representation of Christianity she has, why would she want to follow Jesus?
My heart breaks for every girl working in the red light district. I don’t understand how things can get so twisted. I don’t understand how things got so messed up.
For now I try to rest in the promises of the Lord. That He will bring restoration to the dark places. That we carry our presence with us into cabin restaurants and the atmosphere is changed because of it. That He hasn’t forgotten about his precious daughters in Nepal, and He’s still fighting for them. Come Lord, they need you now more than ever.
