two precious little ones from a toddler. I bet that you would never
see or assume the truth behind this image, this haunting portrait. The
two little feet that you just see were sold for $60 US Dollars to a
pimp.
A three-year old turned sex slave. His name is Michael Angelo.
of tombs in a graveyard in the Philippines. Michael lives in the part
of the community that is raised about 12 feet off Manila Bay’s polluted
waters. All 9 of his family members live in a 2-story makeshift
squatter home. Most of the bottom level is rotted out and can’t be
used. You get up to the top floor by climbing a slippery ladder and
once you get up to the top, you realize t
hatthis family literally has nothing. Each child has one shirt. Some
don’t even have pants. The baby’s bottom is diaperless and the severe
rash has bubbled his skin over to look like a think crust. Michael
spends all day alone in the house with the baby and his other 2-year
old brother while his father and mother go out to try to find work so
that they can eat. His older siblings are left to govern themselves
and find work.
When the pimp came to the door with a picture in her hand, the family
thought that their luck had changed. She promised them that by giving
Michael to her they would become rich. She said, “At the age of 20
Michael will come back to you with a million dollars and you will not
have to struggle like this anymore.” She also promised that Michael
would be taken care of and treated like a king at his new home in
Japan. The exchange was made. A child for $60.00. A poor boy turned
to “king” in a matter of minutes.
PCF has 2 schools., one in the dump and the other in the graveyard.
One of the teachers found out about Michael Angelo and notified the
social work department at the school. Three of the social workers
decided, despite how scared they were that they were going to do
something about this tragedy. They worked tirelessly to find out all
the details. They discovered that the pimp worked for a couple who
live and own a bar in Japan. They also sell children undercover. The
pimp became pregnant herself about 4 years ago and it was decided by
her boss that she would pimp out her own child when he was around
3-years old. The time had come for her to give up her son but she
could not bring herself to do it. She took a picture of her son around
the Navotos village to find a child that looked like her son. When she
found Michael Angelo, she found a way to save her own flesh and blood.
The
social workers called the mother into the school, sat her down and
scared the heck out of her. They told her that the adoption was
illegal and that she could be put in jail if she didn’t get the child
back. The conversation took hours before tears streamed down her eyes
because she realized that her child would be used for sexual pleasure
by a man 4 times his size. They said that it took her about another
hour to find the courage to go to the pimp’s house to retrieve her son.
On June 15, 2008 at 12:00am, mere hours before the child was scheduled
to leave the country and fly to Japan, Michael Angelo was back in her
arms.I asked the social worker, do you think she will sell him again?
She shrugged her shoulders and said, “We will notify the police to
arrest her is she does. She is still thinking about that million
dollars.”
didn’t smile too much. Perhaps the shock of a white woman with a huge
camera and lens planted right on him was a little shocking. His face
was severely bruised because he had fallen through one of the cracks in
the floor. The dark color around his lips is not chocolate, it is dried
blood. I don’t know how survived the fall a 12 foot fall. It’s as if
the Lord’s hand is on this child. When I left the rickety house I
turned back and saw his little head peaking out of a make-shift
window. Through his swollen check and black eye he surprised me with a
smile that radiated joy into my entire body. In the frozeness of this
scared child I saw a glimmer of hope. He waved his tiny little hand
frantically from side to side in such excitement as he sent me off in a
heart-felt joyful goodbye.
leaving to see if I could find the mother and tell her that there was
no million dollars, but we couldn’t find her anywhere. Michael was
alone in the house with his two other siblings. This time, I captured
his little head peaking out for you. So you will remember him.
Remember his bruises and his face. Remember that he was sold and then
saved. Remember him, pray for him, and give your money to send
missionaries to do the work of getting children like him out of danger
and back in the Father’s arms!
