I hear them in there. I hear them and I want to bust down the door. I so wish I could.
I’m on the fourth floor of the Lucky Star Hotel in Phnom Penh. I’m camped out in the hallway to be closer to the Internet router. My team comes in here on the weekends for A/C, showers, and the grocery store. We stay at this particular hotel because it’s cheap and has relatively decent amenities.
I hear her high-pitched voice behind the door.
I saw the girl go in about ½ hour ago. She was escorted in by one of the hotel's security guards, the same security guard that is apparently working to protect me. The hotel is totally in on it. They all are. It’s not extremely foreign to me…this prostitution thing. I worked with bar girls all of last month in Phuket. I’ve seen tens of girls go in and out of doors these past few weekends. Maybe they're prostitutes, but what if they are not? Only the Lord knows. Last weekend, I sat on this very floor and watched from the corner of my eye as three different girls shifted in and out of the same room. They are only girls, for after all, many of them are younger than I.
Cambodia…
This is where it all began for me. In March of 2009, I read the article, Sexual Slavery: Shattering the Sacred by Lindy Havens. I was sitting up in bed after a late-night shift, my aching dogs propped up. That late evening, the horrifying reality of sex trafficking was was brought to light to my already reeling mind. I remember not being able to sleep that night. I remember researching like a mad woman, finding it all to be true. How had I not previously known? From that point on, I was what people call, "fired up." I wanted to do whatever it would take to save them all. I wanted to save the five-year-olds trafficked from villages all the way up to the woman entrapped in prostitution.
And now I'm here…in the precise place where the "pancake transaction" in Lindy's article occurred. I'm in a prime city known for this horror and I sit here. I sit here merely watching. I'm so close…only feet away, yet I can do nothing but pray.
I wish I could do more. I long to be used to relinquish the sickening force held against them. The men in their towels escort them to the elevator after their determined block of time is complete. It's over. I've seen them come and go. If I have made eye contact with them, all I can do is smile. It's a fake smile. I do it for them…
While skyping with my mom last weekend, I had the breakdown of all breakdowns. It had all built up and she happened to be the one with whom I confided. The garment factories (AKA: sweatshops), the street kids, the trafficking… I had just returned from the grocery store with a bag full of apples. A little beggar boy who was skinnier than should be allowed meagerly approached me. I readily handed him an apple. There seemed to be no point of transaction, for it was in his mouth in a split second.
Photo: Katie Bury
I know I can't save everyone. But I can do something. And so, my mom was hearing all of this, watching the tears roll down my cheeks. And somehow the Lord gives me peace. The injustice in Cambodia can all weigh on me, but He takes it away. He gives me a broken heart, but gives me the means to stay strong in Truth. It's a difficult feat, but there is no other way to view these widespread, deplorable circumstances.
"Do not rob the poor, because he is poor, or crush the afflicted at the gate, for the Lord will plead their cause and rob of life those who rob them." -Proverbs 22:22-23
The Lord is on their side…
the child who reached for my apple,
the women in the sweat shop next to my school,
and the young girl being escorted into horror at the Lucky Star.
