Brilliant afternoon sun warms the tanned face of a beautiful twelve-year-old girl, her shiny, black bobbed hair swishing in unison with her gait as she walks the dusty path from school to home. Familiar faces smile at her when she passes each bamboo hut in her village; lifelong friends and distant relatives call out greetings and messages to relay on to her grandmother at home. She innocently waves and nods politely in reply, eager to reach the grass-roofed hut she’s called home since her parents left her in her grandmother’s care – it’s nothing special, but it’s home, it’s familiar, and it’s safe. Gravel crunches under her tiny feet as she rounds the final turn and see her home a few hundred feet away. She sighs, both tired and relieved.
Her grandmother stands in front of their home, and as the young girl draws nearer, she notices another strange woman standing with the older lady. The stranger appears quite grand, dressed in a sparkly suit and wearing lots of fancy jewelry. The girl worries that her grandmother will feel embarrassed in speaking to this woman; they own nothing so beautiful and can barely afford to even dream of such. None-the-less, when her grandmother notices her, she hastily pulls the girl toward the ongoing conversation, so rushed in her introduction that the girl can’t remember the stranger’s name. The old woman commands the girl to turn in front of the stranger, silencing all protests with a threatening hand as the new woman examines the girl’s face, teeth and body. Fortunately the scrutiny ends quickly and the child is ordered inside.
She slips into the house and finds an open window; terribly confused and anxious to know what is going on, she strains to hear what the adults have to say. In her own Hill Tribe tongue, she makes out one word she doesn’t know the meaning of:
“Virgin.”
Before she can draw any conclusions, her grandmother storms into the house, orders the girl to bathe and put on her best clothes, quickly. The girl tries to ask questions but her inquiry earns her a rapid smack across the cheek and a harsher order to move!
In less than an hour, this twelve-year-old child finds herself in the strange lady’s car, having been given no explanation other than her grandmother had been given money, so she must go and pay the debt. Her grandmother had commanded, “Do whatever they ask of you!”
The girl is driven to a doctor’s office, where she is stripped of her clothing, thrown onto an examination table, tested without instruction or explanation, and ultimately confirmed a “virgin.” She still has no knowledge of the meaning, only that coming to the conclusion has caused pain that refuses to cease. Through silent tears she dresses, terrified of what she will be asked to do next, and more terrified to cross this woman her grandmother has handed her over to.
From the doctor’s office, she is driven a few hours away to a large city she has only ever read about in schoolbooks. Fears ease a bit as she stares out the car window at lights of every color, buildings that shoot into the sky, signs with pictures of food and thousands of cars all fighting for their right to be on the road with hers. Under other circumstances, she could have even allowed herself to feel excitement. The woman pulls into the drive of a fantastic, new building with windows all around and men who open the car doors for them. The girl is told to stay quiet as they enter this place – a hotel, she thinks it’s called – and venture up many flights of stairs, then along a narrow hallway to room number 513. Ushered inside, the girl is given a few pieces of bread and glass of milk, and she is told to wait.
A man will come. Do whatever he asks or we will hurt your grandmother. Be a good girl.
The woman leaves, and although she is starving, the girl can only pick at her allotted food. Somewhere inside, she knows what will come next, but she is strong. She refuses to believe it. She prays that all this will just be a horrible dream and soon she will wake up in her home, in her familiar village, in her real life. And still, she waits.
A man does come.
For days she is given no more food, forced to do his absolute will, painfully stripped of her innocence. She cowers in a corner while he sleeps, begs him not to hurt her when he awakens, does her best to tend her own mutilated body and cries until her tears run dry.
Nothing will ever be the same for this precious little girl. Sadly, this is the story for so many children world-wide. They live in a state of panic. There is constant fear that for whatever reason – responsibility of providing for their families, paying off gambling debts, generally not being wanted, etc. – they could be sold into the Sex Trafficking industry and virtually disappear from life as they know it.
This month God has directed me to work with an organization committed to seeing NO MORE children fall victim to this fate. Through meeting physical, mental, emotional and spiritual needs – aka, providing housing, meals, education, counseling, love, attention, and above all teaching them the Gospel of Jesus Christ – they save one child at a time from an alternative that should never even be considered. Each day as I eat and play with these sweet babies – the ones who are safe and happy and loved – I’m both sickened and angered by the thought that ANYONE could choose to hurt them in such a malicious way! Yes, WE LIVE IN A FALLEN WORLD, but even that seems a pathetic excuse for justifying that something so vile can exist! Then I’m smacked with a heavy question:
WHAT AM I DOING ABOUT IT?
The panic has to stop…
Stay tuned for Part Two, still to come.
Children as they should be; happy, healthy, safe and loved.
Be Blessed,
Ashlee
