this is too many girls' lives.

After being a little discouraged and unmotivated from the lack of opportunities for me, I have finally become moved and motivated once again.

I spoke with a lady at Terre des Hommes, an NGO focused on childrens rights. They are affiliated with a few NGO's in Nepal. One of there events has been an photography exhibit of trafficked survivors at SANLAAP safe house in Kolkata, India.

The girls were allowed to be any identity that felt connected with.

These are the results. The exhibit is currently at Harvard, I am hoping it is possible to bring it to Orange County. I can only imagine how people are moved when they see these short summaries and images.

http://www.anotherme.org/

this is Monika.

When Monika was 16 years old she was living in Sikharbesi with her mother and father. One afternoon there was a Hindu festival in the local area and a man approached her, offering her a job opportunity in Kathmandu. Coming from a family of farmers and living in a village with few opportunities, she agreed to go with this man,

After a six hour bus ride to Kathmandu, her and her escort met with another girl, who had also agreed to the same job prospect in Kathmandu. Monika came to realize there was no job in Kathmandu, as they immediately went on their way to Delhi, India via bus.

Putting these two things together, a man traveling with two young females on public transportation, I asked Monika what he told her to say if the police asked who this man was. Though the police did not question either girl or man, Monika said he told them both to say, “He is my husband and we have work in Delhi.”

Upon arriving in Delhi, Monika was sold as a virgin to her new home and workplace for 2 million rupees.

Be it because of the need for a translator with basic English created for an uncomfortable, impersonal situation or the expressing of feelings about this time of her life was novelty, even though it was six years ago, Monika was reluctant to give many details about her living situation in Delhi. However, she described the brothel as something as livable and acceptable. Having around 32-40 girls in the brothel ranging from the ages of 14-32 years of age and receiving three meals a day, they each had their own room. At first Monika expressed that her landlady abused and forced drugs on the girls for cooperation, but then a few minutes later she denied this comment and described her landlady as very nice and never using abuse. The clients were the ones that abused the girls when they did not cooperate with the clients desires, mostly refusing sexual intercourse. Curious to how Monika was treated, I asked her if she had initially agreed to sex or if she was uncooperative. The only response I received from this question was Monika lowering her head and looking toward the ground.

After four years of living in Delhi, a man who Monika did not give much detail about, purchased her allowing her to return to her home village, Sikharbesi. Upon return to her village, she told her family what had happened and fortunately they accepted her back into their life. Monika married a man and now has a daughter and a son. She works as a farmer and her husband is a tailor. With asking about how her husband she immediately mentioned how he abuses her. Her facial expressions reconfirmed her low self-esteem and acceptance of this life.

With my two final questions I asked her how she would prevent her daughter from being trafficked as they live in the same village she was taken from and does the same line of work as her parents. Smiling, she said, even though “there is nothing that could have changed [me from being trafficked,] “I [will] know [that] he is lying, I know about this “job.”” Continuing, she began to laugh, “I will tell the police, even though they will do nothing.”

As the translator only had basic English, my questions became very limited. My final question though, very straight forward brought me to tears as I genuinely asked, “How do you feel now?” Monika only looked down, laughed and shortly responded, “I am not okay.”
Though she found FPAN, Family Planning Association in Nepal, where she has been provided medical and health support, she has lived the past 6 years without psychosocial, legal, or any other support that is necessary to learn how to heal from this past life. She has managed to make another life for herself, but as she has said, she is not okay, and daily lives with each memory of her four years in Delhi.

Monika with her son and daughter(in the pink)

when i grow up i will live in a village.

I have returned from 9 days living in a village and im in absolute culture shock. I feel like I need time to transition and get used to all this madness. Trekking season has begun, so many tourists are out and about, wearing clothing that I now consider a bit too risqué aka shorts and tanks!

In as few words as possible the village was absolutely amazing, life changing, eye opening, inspirational, the experience I was looking for.

I have realized, Kathmandu is not Nepal. At all.

So, the adventure began on Saturday morning. NavaRaj, the man that works with FPAN, Family Planning Assoc of Nepal, in the office in Karenetar picked me up on his motorbike. Its only a 50 km ride, but of course with stopping to chat with all his friends, eating at the must hours of 10am for dal bhat, beans and rice, tea and then again snack at 2pm it took 6 HOURS. My body was in SOOO much pain.

When I first got there I was in absolute shock. Of course there was no internet connection or mobile service, I was living in a village. For some reason I was waiting to find a local internet shop or a familiar white face, but no the last time a white person was in this village was 20 years ago! So there my English went, down to kindergarten level and my luxuries of previous warm showers inside, a bed that wasn’t like a rock, meals other than rice and beans and entertainment beyond bollywood were gone! I was in a little shock, but after the first 3 days, I adapted and now am sitting in this mad city wishing I were back in the village!

I was originally supposed to be in Khanetar for two weeks, but after one week I found it time for me to go. For the first few days I found myself eagerly looking for something to do. I sat in the office, where they gave medical check-ups to any walk-in patients and provided other medical services, but there was not much for me to do. I met many officials and spoke with the local police and military men but what completed this trip was the medical camp they had in Sikharbesi.

It was about a 2 hour motorbike ride away. On the way there after two buses that decided to stop, me and two other staff members were a two hours walking distance away stranded with an 80 lb box of medical supplies and another box. We found a porter who decided to quit after crossing a river and finally found 3, 10 year old boys to carry the boxes up this huge hill that surprised us with amazing fields of hay and streams of fresh water everywhere! We paid them 150 rupees total, about $2!

All day Friday we had a camp where people from all over came for medical check ups and were given free medicine. To see the faces of these people after they received their medicine was so heart warming. They were waving it around so proudly as if they had just won the lottery. I was able to interview one trafficked victim, Monika. I was unaware this was going to happen, so I was not really prepared. And my translators English was very basic, limiting the responses I could receive, but overall I cannot express how much inspiration this experience has given me. I will never forget her last words. She was 16 when she was trafficked to Delhi. She was rescued by a man four years later and returned to her village. In a rare situation, her family accepted her knowing that she had been a prostitute in India. So commonly, communities blame the girl for their trafficking and reject her from returning to the community. She immediately married another man whom she noted beats her and is a farmer with a son and daughter. Even though this was six years ago, as she is 26 years old now, it seemed as if she rarely spoke of this story. She was reluctant to answer many of my questions, especially about her experience within the brothel. After twenty minutes of asking questions and dealing with the difficulty of simplifying my English enough, I asked my final question. “How are you, really?” Monikas last words are forever stained on my heart. “I am not okay.”

I began to cry. I had to get up and walk out. Nepalis don’t show much feeling so people were confused why this American, that traveled so far, crossing rivers, etc to come to our village is showing such weakeness, but I could not help but show such emotion when she has dealt with this alone for such a long time.

I have become so inspired by this, I am more than positive I will be living in a village, working in such a setting after law school. The satisfaction of simply giving an ear to one story for a mere twenty minutes is so life changing. This is a preview of what I want to be doing in the future, with a stronger heart and the knowledge and ability to make a difference for these victims.