A spark in the darkness

This past year in South Asia, I learned firsthand the challenges and complexities of fighting forced labor slavery. Our office worked exclusively to counter this specific type of human trafficking -- investigators identify factories or facilities using forced laborers, a team of social workers and lawyers work with local government officials to rescue these victims according to the law, rehabilitate them, and then prosecute the owners who perpetuate this crime.

Each of IJM's field offices focuses on a particular form of violent injustice. Working with laws already on the books, IJM seeks to rescue individual victims and fix the broken public justice system. The past few weeks at IJM's headquarters have opened my eyes wide to more of these injustices: sex trafficking of minors, illegal police detention, unprosecuted sexual assault.

Yesterday, I celebrated with colleagues halfway across the world as they rescued women and girls who had been trafficked into a dark world of sexual exploitation and coercive fear:

As dawn broke yesterday morning, IJM and local police conducted simultaneous operations at two brothels, freeing approximately 30 trafficking victims, among them girls as young as 13. The rescued girls and women are now receiving care from IJM social workers. Seven suspected perpetrators have been taken into police custody, and police have locked the brothels to prevent their re-opening.

A spark of hope has been ignited for these young women. And another torch on the long path towards justice burns brightly today.

Waiting to return

Because I enjoyed my internship with IJM in South Asia so much in 2009, I decided to extend my time and return in 2010. I will continue (and expand) my work in the Communications department -- as soon as I receive a visa. There have been unexpected delays in the work-visa application process which have prevented me from returning to work this first week of January.

As I wait to return, I am grateful for (hopefully only a few!) quiet days to reflect on the amazing work I am a part of over in South Asia. Most of all, I am eager to return to the friends I work with. The IJM office is a dynamic blend of lawyers, social workers, investigators and administration staff from various economic and educational backgrounds (read: some are very poor and lack a high school degree). The majority of these staff are nationals, while expatriates like me make up an ever-changing flow of interns and fellows eager to volunteer vocational skills or pick up some new ones during a yearlong stint.

Although the staff are so many different personalities -- some quiet and reserved, others loud and prank-playing -- I have observed a common tenacity. Rescue operations to assist local governments document and release slaves from illegal bonded labor demands time, emotion. Follow-up visits with these families to counsel and resource them for lives in freedom demand time, endurance. And fighting for justice in a court system that is so overloaded it would take 100 years to clear every case currently in the system demands time, excellence.

In the nasty face of modern day slavery, IJM's work demands courage. I am reminded of a quotation my mom has stuck to a little yellow post-it by our house phone: "Life expands or contracts in direct proportion to one's courage." (Anis Dais) My colleagues in South Asia are a testament to this truth; may we too live courageously this year and find ourselves with very full lives.

Link to an update

I'm starting to wonder if Daylight Savings affected us over in South Asia after all, stealing away some of our hours! Life has been busy lately, as I'm sure is the case no matter where you are in the world.

I will be able to share more later, but here's a link where you can see some photos I took and read about a very recent, ongoing, case. Please do read, and join my colleagues and me in prayer.

It's a small world after all

A few months ago, a group from a local womens college came to our office looking for an expatriate woman to speak during their international conference on "the feminine mystique." The recruiters kindly refused to let me decline this offer, latching onto the comment I had off-handedly made about studying various structures of the so-called "feminine mystique" in my Gender Studies of South Asia class. I think I wrote one essay on the topic. The flattering academics even went so far as to woo me with accolades and named me their "youth icon." How could I turn down such an opportunity? So I agreed (and enjoyed) speaking about women who had inspired me by shattering gender expectations and challenging norms. I spoke of women in my country, like Rosa Parks, who had stood up for herself, for women and for men. I spoke of the women I have observed and met in my short time here, a visitor in a very complex place. The women who courageously raise up themselves and their families in freedom, after release from years and years of bonded labor slavery.

I typed up an email to explain this bizarre (but lovely) speaking opportunity to my former professor who actually knows more than a thing or two about the feminine mystique. I began with a brief summary of where I was and what I was doing. About an hour later, I got an email that started off "WOW!" and went on to say that she was in the city RIGHT NOW. She named the hotel and a few hours later my roommate and I were sitting at table sharing a Kingfisher with Dr. Nair. We got to hear all about the fascinating research she was a part of, and I learned that a group of Furmanites would be passing through as part of their study abroad travels around South Asia.

Fast forward to today (Happy All Souls Day, by the way). My colleague, Hephzibah, and I traveled to a college campus on the outskirts off the city, to give an IJM and Bonded Labor presentation to a fabulous group of Furman students. It was somewhat strange to be on the other side of the wooden desks and pens poised over blank notebooks, especially since Dr. Nair was among the attentive crowd. But it was a great presentation, full of questions and answers, which are always better than slides and talking points.

Can you spot the Furman alumn?

P.S. One other small world moment -- last week Dr. Nair sent me an email from Kerala and said she had run into an IJM group, including our President and the Regional Director who said he'd hired me, at a harbor in a very small town. They were en route to visit our office. Sometimes I like it when the world feels small.

Good Busy

We have officially reached the last quarter of 2009, and the beginning of the rush to plan 2010. The time to scramble towards year-end targets and meet annual goals. The time to review budgets and finish filing systems. The time to start thinking ahead to what new projects await and how old projects need to be revived and if existing projects will continue. I've been spending most of the alert waking moments at the office for the past week or so. (I'll blame my blog-silence on that. By the time I leave my messy desk, my eyes are begging for a break from the computer screen and my creative energy would rather direct itself to an endeavor other than the written word -- like eating food cooked by my flatmate (thank God for people who unwind by cooking up a storm) or hitting the town to follow around our favorite Hip Hop DJ's for some dancing.)

In the midst of all this busyness, much of which is restricted to the confines of Microsoft Word Documents and A4 sized paper, I must intentionally remind myself of the people--both my colleagues and our clients--behind the goals and targets; the real lives represented by the numbers and statistics; the invaluable relationships simply recorded in the files. Remembering, and investing in, these people, lives and relationships takes a lot of time and energy. But that's the good kind of Busy.

A couple of weeks ago, I was witness, and part, of a day that sustains me through the mundane yet overwhelming tasks of long work weeks like this one. I had the once again amazing opportunity to document a day of Freedom. The IJM team partnered with local government officials to rescue ten people from slavery. The patriarch of the bunch and his wife had three small children plus two married children living with their spouses and working for the same rock quarry owner. The middleaged couple had been bonded labor slaves for fifteen years. Please read the story on IJM's website, currently the top story in the Casework Bulletin.

A Happy Day

This week I had my favorite kind of work day -- one spent with IJM's "clients," individuals who are former victims of forced labor and are now living free lives. No matter how many cases I review or write about, every time I meet the subjects of these stories I am humbled and inspired. This particular family has a powerful story, before, during and after the salt mine where they were coaxed to come and earn an allegedly good salary, educate their children. One hundred percent of their "salary" was paid to one local shop, where they were forced to buy all food and necessary provisions. The school where they were promised education literally shut down two days after their arrival; the preteen daughter forced to work alongside adults raking and spreading salt. When IJM first met her, her feet were scarred with boils and her hopes were flat. When I spent the day with her, her feet walked around a zoo in the city and jumped rope, spirits soaring.

I hope to share more of their story someday soon. For now, I leave you with a (lighthearted) photo of me and a deer. That's right, here, deer like people, daytime and. I think the only thing more amazing than petting a deer in the two-wheeler parking lot were the confused looks on the family's faces as they wondered at my wonderment.

Apparently, this is normal.

I guess it makes sense that Bambi likes popcorn...
Did you know that peacocks spread their glorious feathers and dance when it is going to rain? As if I needed another reason to love my favorite animal.

This is where I live

This week I spent half a day at Freedom Training, a three-day series of workshops and interactive lectures led by IJM social workers -- intended to instill basic knowledge and begin the fragile process of rebuilding the lives of newly released forced laborers. My moleskine is filled with facts and quotations I scribbled down, pestering the patient staff to translate and repeat answers. This entry was jotted down among these notes.

Sometimes I still have moments where I have to blink a few times really fast and whisper aloud "This is where I live." Like right now. I'm sitting in a large cement room, lit by fluorescent tube lights and cooled by eight plastic ceiling fans. Cooled, of course, being a geographically relative verb. The voices filling this space are laughing now, some comment about cigarettes or insight into substance abuse shared by the IJM social workers has struck a chord. The men laugh a deep, admitting laugh; the women laugh a knowing laugh and then exchange glances with one another, settling back into their plastic chairs with placid eyes on tired faces. The babies are antsy. Tired, perhaps, or hot and hungry.

I'm watching one woman now, her tiny arms believable only when I stare at her proportionally tiny face, pretty features pinched into narrow symmetry. The baby she now feeds at her tired breast was born in July, the day before this family of four and four other families were brought out of the rice mill where they laboured, endlessly tired, illegally and hopelessly trapped as bonded labourers. Her husband is also well-kept, his somehow still white shirt hanging, billowing almost, over his jagged frame. Their daughter is in his arms, fussy and not allowing him to sit down.

The slide that's projected on the wall has pictures and words explaining dependence on and tolerance of alcohol. I think of the documents I read last night, in my cool A/C bedroom, on my cool iBook laptop, to prepare for the interviews I'll do later today. I read of one woman who explained an incident when the owner of the rice mill had hit her husband. Why? The radio was too loud. I am filled with anger at this man -- who owns a rice mill and fills it with dispensable workers as he might stock it with bulk rate rice sacks. I almost read over the next part -- I wanted to -- the part where she mentioned that her husband had slapped her across the face just before this incident. I stop. Even in remembering I stop. What of this man -- the husband -- a victim himself? A man I pity as he sits quietly in front of me, seemingly attentive to the discussion and intermittently picking up his small, pig-tailed daughter. Why does he perptuate violece, exert power through brute strength?

I don't think anger or pity are the answers. I don't think there are answers, at least not complete ones, this side of heaven. I blink again and this time everything's normal. I look around at these faces again, willing the words I don't comprehend to sink in and somehow shift thinking, spur dreams. I project hopeful futures in spite of the domestic violence and rampant substance abuse they've been learning about. I wipe a line of sweat from my upper lip and think, "Yes, this is where I live."

Limited by words, but not by freedom

I enter the simple room barefoot, sometimes sitting on a plastic chair or cot, sometimes on a cement or packed-dirt floor. I open my small journal and glance at questions I've jotted down, though I hardly need these to guide the interview that begins and ends in Tamil, my English intruding into that tiny space. Inevitably, faces begin to crowd out the light as curious neighbors and noisy children wander by and see the strangers sitting opposite their friends or family. I listen to words I do not understand and intonations I still find a bit jarring, waiting for a translation to interrupt the next bit of conversation.

I have always loved interviewing people, piecing together parts of their story in an order and with words others will read and relate to. I find that the intentionality draws out fascinating bits of information and memories that are often left out of everyday conversation. The interview setting is, inevitably, a little awkward at first. But just as soon as the introductory formalities are out of the way, the comfort level increases and the talking begins. Who doesn't welcome the chance to speak when you know someone is really listening?

One of the most challenging, rewarding experiences has been interviewing the families who are no longer living as slaves and are now a part of IJM's longterm aftercare program. The language barrier is huge, and it would be insurmountable for me without the patient aftercare staff who I accompany on these home visits. As a writer, it is frustrating to be limited by words. But I am growing as a listener, and grateful for every single word I hear -- in the language I don't understand and the language I do.

Read the story of this beautiful family here.

Released from bondage

Since I have come to IJM, I have been richly blessed to be a part of three separate rescue operations. The operations to release families living in slavery are conducted in tandem with goverment officials and police, who enter the paticular facility (rock quarry, brick kiln or rice mill) with select IJM staff. The victims of forced labor are briefly "enquired" inside the faciilty by the head government officer. Then we help them pack their simple belongings into large trucks. We travel to the government office where the official "enquiry" is conducted to determine if they are being held there in violation of the Indian law which prohibits forced labor. (Essentially, someone is considered a forced laborer if she/he is: providing labor in exchange for a one-time monetary loan, paid below minimum wage, prohibted from moving freely, or not permitted to sell their own goods freely.)

At the government office, my role has been to photograph the laborers as they are documented by our aftercare staff and as they take turns going in to answer questions with the government officials. Since I do not speak the language, my responsiblities are limited. But even using a laminating machine hardly feels mundane -- as the piece of paper bound between the plastic sheets is a Release Certificate, cancelling all debts and literally declaring that particular individual free.

More importantly than my own involvement, since I arrived in January 2009, 154 Release Certificates have been issued in IJM cases. 43 families have been released from faciilties where they were working illegally as laves. All of these families are part of IJM's aftercare program, designed to support them as they reintegrate into a society which is strictly delineated by caste and plagued by poverty. One IJM aftercare manager is assigned to each family. The IJM staff visits the family's home monthly, conducts group meetings by region and connects these "clients" with longterm resources to ensure a sustainable life in freedom.

To read about our most recent rescue operation, check out IJM's website and read this story I wrote!

Its all business here

The past few days I have been in Madurai, a small city an overnight train ride away. Accompanied by a lovely colleague and IJM aftercare manager, I had the privilege to interview a couple of students in the government law college there. Both are children of former forced laborers, rescued from a brick kiln in 2004. Both are the first in their families to attend college. Both are full of ambition, driven by a desire to excel so that they might fight for their humble communities. Sitting on a rusted green folding chair up on the rooftop of the law college hostel, tape recorder capturing the answers to my questions asked for me in Tamil, moleskine in hand as I scribbled translations, I thought to myself, how do I do this justice? And justice is a word I do not use lightly. His story deserves an audience. His story deserves a truthful telling, neither polished off nor embellished.

I suspect this question will haunt me the deeper I am immersed into this work; how do I do this justice? The more I engage with the culture, the customs and -- mostly -- the people of South Asia, the more I doubt my ability to recount the stories and provide the panoramic view I can barely take in when I'm standing right here seeing and smelling it all in real time. I'll continue to offer simple snapshots of my life and work here...though no more tonight. I am too excited to sleep not in transit, with my backpack looped through my arm on the third bunk of an overnight train like last night, or in the back seat of a car bumping down a dirt road then scraping by buses on the four hour journey back to the city, like my nap(s) today (I got off the train this morning at 7:30, brushed my teeth at the office, had a coffee and headed out on another trip to interview a family very recently freed from a rock quarry).

Perhaps I'll sort out some of the bits and pieces from my whirlwind "business trip" over the weekend. Until then, I send you the blessings I (accidentally!) received from this elephant:

Training weekend

This weekend, IJM partnered with another international nonprofit here in the city to conduct a police training on identifying, rescuing and preventing child trafficking. One of our talented advocates delivered a dynamic presentation to about 60 police officers, first defining what trafficking is and how children are exploited in this way, and then explaining what laws exist and how they protect kids and prosecute traffickers. Not much help during the lecture or case study groups which simulated trafficking scenarios (and were conducted in Tamil), I took photos during the event and wrote up a brief story highlighting the significance of the event for IJM headquarters.

Our office is in an exciting position right now, expanding from specialized casework to a total structural transformation. Our investigators, aftercare managers and lawyers will continue to rescue, rehabilitate and advocate for individuals who have been forced to labor as slaves. But we are also seeking to change the political and social structures which allow the injustice of forced labor slavery to exist, despite laws against it.

The police training was an important "first" for our office. IJM has a team of talented lawyers who really understand the laws surrounding forced labor. We hope to be a resource for local law enforcement agencies, to offer our expertise and aid them in enforcing laws that already exist.

Work is busy as usual, but I'm working on a variety of projects which makes the days pass quickly and the mundane stay away. It's getting hot; it was over 100 degrees today, plus A LOT MORE humidity. And there's no salty breeze, just sticky city air. So I'm grateful for the AC in my office and the juice bars on many a corner, blending just-in-season mangoes for a refreshing afternoon treat.

Freedom

This weekend in DC, IJM will host the annual Global Prayer Gathering. Like the name implies, people will gather together from all over to pray for IJM's work around the globe. Each of the Field Office Directors from IJM's 14 international offices will fly in to lead participants in prayer for the unique needs of their particular field work. Part of my role as a Community Relations intern has been preparing our "prayer room" with slideshows and power point presentations, planning and producing the gifts for the participants who will visit our room, and working with my Field Office Director to put together stories and speeches. Additionally, our director will speak at one of the main group sessions and conduct a live video interview with one of our victims. I have had the privilege of writing the story and getting to meet this endearing and inspiring individual: Madhaav.

Madhaav is twelve years old. Reserved and bashful at first, it doesn't take long for his big smile to light up the room. Last fall, IJM investigators found Madhaav working in a rice mill, day and night, earning about a quarter--yes, 25 cents--each week. Instead of going to school or playing with boys his age, he was forced to lay out rice paddies to dry and work in the machine room alongside adults. His parents and older siblings also worked at this rice mill and the one across the street. The entire family was being forced to work to pay back small loans the father and older brother had taken out; they were not free to leave the facility nor seek additional work to pay back the loan. When his grandfather passed away, the family had to leave one member behind as human collateral to ensure their return--Madhaav stayed in the rice mill. Their debt continued to increase because they were forced to "borrow" money to pay for basic expenses, like additional food necessary to survive and medicine. The women feared the owner's sexual advances, and the men were helpless to defend their wives or own dignity because of the owner's abuses towards them and apathy towards the law. Though he was only a child and also blind, Madhaav was forced to work tirelessly alongside the other forced laborers. When IJM investigators met Madhaav, he told them that he wanted to be rescued from the rice mill because he wanted to "see the world."

The IJM team put together a compelling case and presented the evidence of forced labor to the local authorities. A rescue operation was planned and executed successfully; Madhaav and fourteenother laborers from the two rice mills were presented with official release certificates granting them freedom. Today, Madhaav lives happily with his older sister and her husband.

Last week, I got to visit him in his village with one of our aftercare managers. (After victims are released from a facility, an IJM aftercare manager is assigned to each family. The family receives regular visits from this IJM social worker for the next two years--guiding and supporting their gradual and stable reentry into a free society.) I had read through all of the victim statements taken by the investigators and pored over the many reports detailing the rescue operation. I had in fact written a case narrative summarizing the entire case from the first phone call referral to the current aftercare of each family to the nascent legal stages. I had already submitted a story about Madhaav to Headquarters. But as I sat on the hard floor of a tiny hut with a roof thatched together with twine, thin sticks and palm leaves, I heard Madhaav's story like it was the first time.

I was there with my Field Office Director to meet Madhaav and ask if he would be willing to come in and share his story before a video camera, to be broadcast at the Global Prayer Gathering. So I scribbled down notes in my moleskine, translations whispered by a colleague and dear friend. But I didn't need translation to understand the bond between Madhaav and his IJM aftercare manager, the steady hand placed gently on Madhaav's shoulder as he sat back down on the mat after standing to pantomime the motions he was once forced to perform, raking and moving the rice paddies. I didn't need words to smile and make funny faces at his younger twin brothers and cousin, three small boys in the first grade who proudly counted to ten and recited their fractured ABC's as they struggled to sit still, flanked by their mothers and older siblings sitting quietly to observe these strange outsiders asking Madhaav so many questions about a hard past. When we asked what Maadhav remembered about the owner of the rice mill, his permanently unfocused eyes shifted downward and his thoughtful silence spoke more than words ever could.

Love, laughter, fear--these cut quickly across culture and circumstance.

A good day of work

Today we saw the fruit of months-long labor come to bear. We hosted a conference for local leaders in the Christian community, a first for IJM (and my first major Community Relations event). Our Senior Vice President of Education flew in from DC Headquarters to lead the sessions and also provide training for Community Relations staff from all South Asia offices. After weeks of phone calls, check lists, schedule changes and planning the content of the day, the conference was an encouragement.

My logistical responsibilities are complete, but I will continue to pray that the individuals who attended and shared candidly about the struggle to take up the weighty cases of injustice will carry the call to their churches and organizations, large and small. A major goal was addressed during the small group discussions as the leaders from a variety of faith backgrounds brainstormed practical, sustainable methods to effectively wipe out slavery from the community. And then beyond. In order to eradicate the unlawful yet tolerated practice of forced labor, creative collaboration among the community is necessary. More and more, I am convinced not only of the necessity for cooperation and leadership from the political and legal spheres, but for unity among the Body of Christ on earth.

Happy at work. (My first attempt to tie a sari on my own...thank you, Google. And thank you to the women who fixed my pleats!)

Happy after work. (Isn't my bike awesome?)

Bicycyle shop where I bought "Miss India."

Fighting to end slavery, one work day at a time

This fall, I made many preparations to live and work in South Asia--physically, materially, spiritually, financially.  I got my shots, bug spray and travel toiletries, carefully selected favorite books that would be a comfort or a challenge, and engaged in conversations with family and friends who were eager to support the work I would be involved in here.  But I only had a vague idea of what that work would be.  After three weeks, my head is still spinning as the gravity of this work sinks in.

As many of you know, this particular IJM office seeks justice on behalf of individuals in bonded labour.  "Bonded labour" is just a technical term for slavery.

My office is an impressive team--hardworking investigators who gather evidence against facilities using slave labour and plan raids in conjunction with government officials; passionate social workers who provide aftercare and training for released victims; dedicated lawyers who fight hard to bring perpetrators of these evil crimes to justice; and strong administration and communication staff who share all of these stories.  It's a busy place, with everyone doing a bit of everything.  There is much laughter and encouragement despite daily frustrations and setbacks, hope in spite of deeply ingrained systems of injustice.  IJM's work is straightforward: to end slavery.

My responsibilities are varied, but one of the tasks I have enjoyed most is reading through past cases and writing a case narrative, tracing the story from the victims' statements given during preliminary investigations through the details of the raid to the complex stages of pre-trial.  I have been educated and heartbroken by the victims' desperate pleas for rescue as well as the legal process nearly strangled by so much red tape.  Sadly, many of the stories start the same way: a family member is sick and needs to go to the hospital; a mud hut is destroyed by rain and the home needs repairs.  So the husband takes out a loan from the owner of a rice mill or brick kiln or other facility where his entire family will be "bonded" until the advance is paid back.  However, the owner does not pay minimum wage and the workers are not allowed to find work elsewhere--they are trapped in a state of extreme poverty with no way to ever earn enough to pay back an increasingly unfair loan.  This system is illegal, thanks to the Bonded Labour Act of 1976.  But this law is largely unregulated and slavery persists as an acceptable way of doing business.  The National Institute for Human Rights, based in Bangalore, estimates that there are as many as 64 million slaves in South Asia today.

The numbers are big.  The challenges are immense.  Individual slaves must be rescued and restored one by one, a process which requires precise planning and then committed care.  The perpetrators of these crimes must be brought to justice, a painstaking process of educating government officials, police and judges about the very laws they are appointed and elected to uphold.  And the society which accepts this unjust way of life must be transformed.

In spite of these broken legal systems and generations of social apathy, I am constantly amazed and humbled by the resilience of my co-workers at IJM--modern day abolitionists.  That's strong language, but these are strong people.  

 

A full week

Another full week of learning to love this new city. During training week, one of the sessions briefed us on the inevitable stages of Culture Shock. I think it is safe to say I'm right on track, still in the "honeymoon" phase when everything is new and different--meaning exciting and good. This morning I paid a few rupees for a lovely-scented flower for my hair and now I sit at my desk (already quite messy!) scanning my to-do list (already quite long!), distracted by the traffic and pedestrians competing for the street below.

It has been just over a week since I began working here at IJM, and I have already gotten a better understanding of our bonded labour slavery casework--the desperate circumstances which require a victim to take out a "loan" which they will never be able to pay back; the exhaustive and intensive investigations process; the dedicated aftercare and education required to empower newly freed individuals; the persistence and excellence of the legal team bringing the case to trial despite many obstacles and much time.

I hope to find a few quiet mintues (quiet of course being a relative term here) sometime this weekend to reflect on some of the challenging aspects of both the work and the culture I've observed and share more about the wonderful people I'm working with and learning so much from.

This weekend I venture to Bangalore for a co-worker's wedding. After witnessing several now-married friends agonize over guest lists, I laughed out loud when I heard weddings here are different, with thousands attending normal weddings! Literally, after our first conversation, he invited me to the wedding and brought me an invitation the next day. It seems the people are both hospitable and celebratory, wanting as many people to join in their happiness as posible. Plus, I'm excited to wear a sari! More to come...