We had been told that it was one of the most challenging outreach locations, but I wasn't scared. In fact, I raised my hand. "I'll go."
"Okay. We also need a male to go as an escort."
We headed out, and hopped in the car. When we reached our location, I was coached about what to do.
"We mainly focus on talking to the women, especially since we are a mostly female team. Just stay with the group, and act natural."
We turned into the alleyway, and entered one of the darkest places I've been: the red light district in Penang.
I had been to the red light district several times in Thailand, but this was different. There was no glamor, no flashing lights or fun night life. The enemy doesn't hide behind the facade of a good time here; he revels in the darkness and holds tightly to the chains of slavery wrapped around the women.
As we rounded the corner, a fence made of metal siding, Marie* (name changed for safety) sat on a chair, her purse in her lap. As she recognized her friends, her face lit up. She spoke in Malay, and one of our team members translated. She had recently injured her arm, and it was healing, but she still had some pain and limited mobility. We asked if we could pray for her, and she happily agreed.
We chatted for a few minutes, and I realized that I was blocking the pathway to a door in the metal siding. As I moved to let someone by, I realized that this is where they work. A woman led a man, motorcycle helmet in his hand, through the door. I caught a glimpse of the inside. It was little more than a shack, with rooms partitioned off inside, so several customers could be serviced at a time. The door banged closed, and my heart seized with sadness. The woman who had just gone in had come out only five minutes before. Five minutes in between customers.
We moved along the alley, and spoke with another friend, Betty*. She had some swelling in her leg, so I kneeled down, placed my hand on her leg, and prayed. After the prayer, we smiled and laughed, and she gave us hugs. We told her bye, and headed down the alley, and across the street.
We met up with another friend, and chatted with her for awhile. As some of the team spoke with her in Malay, a man approached the group. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and a disapproving look on his face.
"Hello. What are you doing here?"
"We're just talking."
"Who are you with?"
"We work with an NGO [Non-Governmental Association]."
"Okay, but what are you doing here? Do you have papers?" He was starting to get agitated.
"We left them at home. We just talk to the people, see if we can help them, pray for them." She accidentally gave a little too much information. He immediately became more abrasive.
"You shouldn't be here. I have a question. Do you like to die?"
"Umm…I don't understand the question. I don't like the dying part, but what comes after it will be good."
"I just want to know-do you like to die?"
The conversation went around for a few more minutes, and he eventually walked away. I was nervous, because what we were doing was technically illegal, but the Lord protected us.
We talked to one more friend, Tracy*, who told us that she had just gotten a job at the new hotel, cleaning rooms. She had a job that was not prostitution, and a clean place to stay and sleep. We told her that we were so happy for her.
It was time to head back to the base and debrief with the other teams, so we headed out. As we drove down the streets of Penang, I thought about the women that I had met and prayed for. They were definitely happy to see us, but the team's weekly visit is probably one of the only lights in their lives. Someone asked how much the women make from their customers.
"If it's inside," the team leader told us, "about 30 Ringgit [$10]. If it's out on the street, usually about 15 Ringgit [$5]."
My jaw dropped. Ten dollars. Ten dollars is what the enemy has convinced these women that they are worth.
What can you do with that? How can one person make a difference against an evil that has pervaded the world so thoroughly? Sometimes it seems like a losing battle, a hopeless cause.
But, that is why I have decided to dedicate my life to advocating for women like Marie, Betty, and Tracy through one of the things I love best: story. Those women are likely still trapped in a life on the streets, but their suffering does not go unnoticed, by people like me, the team that visits weekly, or by God. They do not suffer alone, because, whether they know it or not, they have a Creator who thinks they are beautiful, no matter what they have been reduced to do, or what they think about themselves.
They have changed my life, and I pray that one day, theirs will be changed as well.
If this gets you fired up, like it does me, check out the End It Movement.
