I went to Guadalhorce Friday night. This time it was different. It was different in the sense that I was able to go out at night time with Joyce, Steph Fisk and Kate Williams. It was “primetime” for the women to be out waiting for “johns” to come and purchase them for an amount of time.
Usually the group that goes to Guadalhorce goes on Saturday afternoons because of train/ bus schedules and safety reasons as well.
Joyce is a woman who has ministered to many of these women for a while and attends church with several of them. Steph met her during her time as an intern. She offered to take us in her green mini-van- type-car.
As we pulled up to the abandoned factory boulevard and area-darkness began to swallow us. Normally, walking into Guadalhorce we ease ourselves into the darkness but this time it was almost overwhelming and heavier than normal. Dark-physically but dark-spiritually.
The night began with Romanian women yelling in Spanish at Joyce and I to 
get away from their corner. They were telling us that we weren’t welcome, that this was their work and this is what they had to do.
Joyce said that she had talked to them on previous nights and they were more than willing to talk to her but tonight-they wanted nothing to do with her… and me for that matter.
In my times of doing such ministry to women… I have never felt hostility like this. In that second, I froze. One of the women began answering my questions only to be followed by. “Why? Why do you care? There’s nothing you can do.”
I froze because I let the language barrier get to me. I froze because the impact of her statement pierced my heart. I froze and felt helpless in that moment.
The night progressively got better. We talked to many different women and because we were in Joyce’s car we were able to talk to 5 times more women that we would normally be able to talk to.
When I froze, I wanted to say that she had a story. She was worth more than any price any man would pay to be with her. That even if she didn’t believe it-there were people fighting for her, who believe in her and love her. That she has a mighty Father that has nothing but admiration and unconditional love for her.
God gave me different opportunities to say such things to different women that night but my eyes have been opened that-these women-every single one of them have such a beautiful story and it needs to be heard.
Growing up, I always wanted to be a news reporter because I had a special interest in people. I find that even though I no longer desire to be a reporter that I still want to know everyone’s story. 
Since being here in Spain, I have kept a journal of the different women I have met in Guadalhorce, their story-or at least what they told me, what they were wearing, what their dreams are and even what shoes they were wearing. 🙂
Everyone has a story… so with that said- I’m going to commit to posting up a blog about every woman I have met and talked to in Guadalhorce. You’ll find that you might have more in common with these women than you think and knowing their story makes it a harsh reality that women are being bought and seen only as objects.
