Mumbai, India

Sunday, June 21, 2009

by Naomi Zacharias

After just a few hours, it felt like we were in a different part of the country much further away. There were mountains, and winding dirt roads, and an open stretch of blue sky. We started the day by visiting a home for girls. We instantly had friends, who giggled and slipped their hands into ours and began to show us their home. We entered rooms with several single beds and pink comforters, and they showed us cupboards with their personal space and items. They gingerly tidied the already extremely neat piles of t-shirts and skirts, obviously wanting us to notice how well they kept their things. One of their first questions was about boys and dating, and what was it like in the US? I encourage Emily to take charge of the answer to this question. They were fascinated by Emily’s striking blue eyes and couldn’t believe they were real.


We left their house and went to another home for children who require special medical care. As we walked in the door, 35 sets of beautiful brown eyes beamed back at us and we instantly had our hands full. We ate a lunch of curries and freshly made chapatis, and learned about this home where children are given extra care and attention to tend to all of their health needs.

From there we went to a home for women previously trafficked and sold, and another for young boys who had been living on the streets of Mumbai addicted to drugs. Every child attends school, and the women can choose vocational training and learn to make silk pajamas and clothing and leather goods that are then shipped to retail vendors in the United States. The houses sit several acres of lush land filled with mango trees and offers a peaceful life of safety and calm.
By the end of the day, we are mentally tired. It is about 100 degrees and the unfamiliar humid heat seems to make everything process a bit slower mentally. And perhaps it is the stories themselves, too. Later that night we each stretch out our single beds, waving away mosquitoes and taking turns at discouraging four legged friends from coming closer. Then we see a lightning bug and something about it soothes us. I don't know if it is the reminder of summer nights of childhood running around for hours outside with a jar trying to get a little closer to this unthreatening creature. Or maybe it just is the little light that flickers on and off and offers warmth, or comfort, or even hope. We lie still to catch the breeze from the fan and talk about all we have seen, the way it hurts inside, how you must grieve the realization that we can’t actually fix the past. We can help to build and participate in the future, but we come from a culture that with all good intentions would love to believe we can actually erase horrors of the past and create a life perhaps happily ever after. But the stories don’t lend themselves to this, and they launch us into a different reality of life that is marked with unusual pain, but life that triumphantly perseveres. We talk until we are too tired to think, Emily strums on a nearby guitar that was recently donated and hums tunes I've grown to recognize in just a few days, and we briefly leave this reality to fall asleep.

Mumbai, India

Saturday, June 20, 2009

by Naomi Zacharias

We arrived in Mumbai at 1:00 am this morning. Our flight was delayed and then our luggage the last to appear on the belt. That's always a nervous moment, when the passengers next to you retrieve their bags and disappear one by one. And then you start to slowly become less hopeful, reprimand yourself for putting faith in the baggage system and checking in luggage against better judgment and looking at the outfit you put on 36 hours ago and wondering how long you'll have to stay in it. But this time, ah, relief! We walked outside and were met with a wave of heat even at that hour. We jumped in the car and sat through traffic on the busy streets of Bombay, a city that seems to truly never sleep.

I am on this trip with Emily, a recent college graduate who will be working with Wellspring for the summer. All of her assignments are overseas, beginning in Mumbai. She is researching selected projects to help us maintain Wellspring standards of due diligence and taking an in-depth look at finances and project management. She is a great travel companion and ready to begin her work. It is her first trip to India, but I know she will love it and it will love her.

We decided to eat as soon as we arrived at our hotel and finally went to sleep at about 4:00 am, our body clocks beginning the path of sleep confusion. We wake up and begin our day. We go to the red light district and walk through the streets. Beads of sweat immediately form in the high heat and we refrain from crinkling our noses at various smells as we step past animals and discarded trash, weaving through the crowded streets. Emily points out an unusually large black goat in front of us, contentedly chewing on a phone cord. We go into a brothel and speak with its owner, a woman who looks to be in her late forties. She was once forced to work here and now manages the business. It is a tiny room, divided with a thin curtain to create the false sense of privacy.

We then go to the children’s shelter funded by Wellspring International. Seventy children shake our hands and ask our names. Many are the children of women working in the brothels and the shelter provides them with safety outside of that home. Others were found living alone on the streets. They dance and present us with brightly colored daisies and warm smiles.

We spend some time in the clinics that offer free treatment to women working in the brothels, including ARV treatment.

And as we return to the hotel, Emily talks about what she has seen. Her heart is heavy and she expresses honest ache over what we witnessed. We stroll along the waterfront and talk it through. We watch people eating popsicles, feeding birds, and Indian families posing for pictures. She steps up and asks one if she can join their picture. They smile and quickly agree and welcome her into their family for a few seconds. The picture is priceless.

We are exhausted and pack our things before falling asleep. Tomorrow we will be driving a few hours outside of the city to Emily’s new home for the next three weeks.

Amsterdam

Thursday, May 14, 2009

by Laurie Grotelueschen

The day started with a cup of strong Dutch coffee and a croissant. After the breakfast of champions we were picked up by Elizabeth from Scarlet Cord and headed to a high school outside of Amsterdam for a prostitution prevention class. Scarlet Cord has been invited to area high schools to conduct a prevention seminar on “lover boys” (pimps) and prostitution. Each seminar is designed to make the young girls aware of the tactics and lies of lover boys. These guys often prey on vulnerable girls and become their boyfriend, woo them, and then coerce them into prostitution through a rather lengthy and psychologically manipulative process. This class had eight girls in it, aged 14. The entire class was conducted in Dutch, which made it very interesting to try and figure out what was being said and what the reaction of the girls was. We could read the body language and the reactions of the girls as they were asked to respond to certain statements with a red or green card to signify yes or no. Scarlet Cord has developed an entire curriculum that can be used in the public schools and conducted seminars in over 35 schools this year. Wellspring International has provided $15,000 USD toward funding this program since its inception in 2006. With full government support, Scarlet Cord is getting tremendous positive feedback from students and school administration regarding the effectiveness of this program.

From there we went to the offices of Scarlet Cord for lunch and a brief business meeting. Naomi and I met with Toos, who is the director of the Scarlet Cord office. We spent the afternoon on a bench by the canals listening to Toos tell us about all that was happening with Scarlet Cord, the girls behind the windows, and plans for the future. She spoke of a new partnership with a high profile international employment firm that now works with Scarlet Cord to facilitate job placement for girls who have left prostitution and are seeking employment that fits their educational background, professional skills, and dreams. She told us of her hopes to develop prevention tools in various languages and suitable for different cultural backgrounds. It was certainly an eye opening experience for me. I heard about a world that I did not really know existed - a world of human trafficking and sexual slavery. HIV/AIDS, poverty, and homelessness are in the news every day and are the chosen cause of many of the Hollywood “elite,” but in my secluded suburban world, I never knew of the dark and desperate situation of so many women and children around the world.

Evening drew near and it was time for us to head into the Red Light District. We went upstairs into the office and prayed. We prayed for Him to lead us to those who needed to hear from Him that night and with a heartfelt "Amen" we went out. We were here to participate in the "Street Work" of Scarlet Cord. Wellspring provides funding toward this program each year, as the staff of Scarlet Cord engage in the opportunity to meet the girls working in the District, to build relationships, to let them know what they do. The purpose of Street Work is to let the girls know about Scarlet Cord and that they are available to facilitate a safe exit, provide counseling, housing, and assistance with education and job placement should they choose any of these options. The choice is left up to each girl. I have to admit that the butterflies in my stomach turned into bats the closer we got to the street.

My first impression as we walked out of the alley and onto the street was one of eerie darkness bathed in the glow of red lights. It reminded me of all the old movies depicting hell. You could feel the oppression weigh down on you like a heavy blanket. I guess in my mind I expected to see brazen, hardcore women enticing men from behind the windows, but when I finally dared to look into one my heart broke into a million pieces. The very first window I looked into had a young, clearly frightened young girl. This was not what I was expecting and I wept inside at the hopelessness I saw in her young face. As I continued to walk down the street looking in the windows I saw sadness, fear, and desperation. There were a few who seemed to put on a good show for the clientele, but if you looked closely, the smile seemed to be painted on and there was no visible life in their eyes. In those first few moments the Lord showed me that these were His precious children and, if my heart was breaking, His was breaking even more. As we walked through the street, Toos commented on how many were new. We learned that many are trafficked in from places like Hungary and Romania. They come with the expectation of a job in the restaurant business or house keeping, and others come out to work in the Red Light District for a few months to try to make money to support a desperate family back home. But oftentimes, upon arrival, the organized network takes their passports and imposes enormous debts on them. They are a commodity.

Toos began knocking on the windows and introducing herself to them. If they spoke some English she would tell them that she was with Scarlet Cord and give them a card with the numbers to call if they needed anything. She has cards and books in every language. The books are stories written by girls who were in prostitution and then came out of the industry. Toos also offered Bibles. It was amazing how many girls really wanted the Bibles. Before the night was over, Toos had run out.

Toos went into a booth to talk to one of the girls that she knew while Naomi and I waited around the corner. While we were waiting I took the opportunity to observe those who were milling about the streets. My heart went from broken to enraged at what I saw. Tour groups were being ushered down the street by a guide. These groups were full of what I would call the “retirement crowd.” Men and women who were my parents’ ages, out on a tour as if it were the zoo or something. I wanted to march right up to them and give them a scolding. What on earth were they doing here gawking at these girls as if they were animals in the zoo? Didn’t they realize these girls were somebody’s daughter, granddaughter? This could have been a member of their family. How would they feel if they looked in the window and saw their daughter? Then there were the men, old men, young boys, businessmen, and the loverboys, all walking up and down the streets and the alleys, looking in the windows and judging each girl as if they were shopping for a car or something. The loverboys stand back and watch. I noticed that a few of the girls would look behind us when we talked with them and suddenly tell us they could not talk. They had obviously been warned not to.

Later Toos and I went into the booth of a young girl named Vanessa. Vanessa was from Russia and actually came of her own will (or so she said). She told us how she came to make money to go to school. She saw that the most money could be made in Amsterdam so she came here. She had been there two years and had no money. She found that prostitution was not what it was cracked up to be. Gone were the dreams of riches and going back wealthy only to be replaced by a resigned hopelessness that all those dreams were now dead. She told us that there was emptiness in her heart now. It was at this point that Toos shared the Gospel with her. While Toos was sharing what Jesus could do to fill the emptiness in her heart, Vanessa listened intently. She allowed us to pray for her and accepted the books that Toos had. We hugged each other and then left as she once again assumed her pose in the window. I keep praying that the Holy Spirit will take the seed that Toos planted that night and make it bloom into beautiful fruit for Vanessa.

We continued to walk through the streets for a little while longer. I stood amazed at this beautiful church that stood vacant and abandoned in the middle of the Red Light District. It reminded me of something I had read recently in Ezekiel 10 where the Glory of the Lord leaves the temple. As the people of Israel slowly gave themselves to idols and wickedness the LORD pulled back from the temple, eventually leaving it altogether. The abandoned church certainly revealed that God had removed His glory. But, lest I end this on a depressing note, I think of Toos and all the wonderfully dedicated people at Scarlet Cord who carry God’s light and glory into the darkness of Amsterdam and its Red Light District. The Lord tells us in Acts 13:47, “I have made you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring salvation to the ends of the earth.” Through this experience, God has made me very aware of how much we need to be a light to these girls and in this place.

Amsterdam

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

by Naomi Zacharias

We arrive in Amsterdam in time to meet the morning sun. Unable to check into our hotel, we stop in the lobby for a few minutes to check email as we have been out of contact with home since leaving. After checking in and reassuring all we were alive and well, we wander around outside, a little tired, ready for a shower, and in clothes we are ready to retire after wearing them for over 24 hours. I love the streets of Amsterdam, with its quaint architecture and picturesque canals. In this city, I watch bicycles pass with the same curiosity only lent to passing cars at home. Here, the cycles have character. Aged brown leather seats, woven baskets, or old school bells make them an interesting addition to the city’s character, not just an additional hazard to be wary of when crossing the narrow streets. The weather is crisp and pleasant and after brief exploration we head into a Hard Rock Café and devour a plate of nachos to kill a bit of time.

After check in and an afternoon nap, we hop a tram to take us to a part of town I struggle to pronounce correctly. The tram operator looks at me a bit confused, but my friend had given me the English translation and with a small twitch at the corners of his mouth he nods in understanding. When we step off the tram, my friend is there to greet us. I met her three years ago now.

It was 2006 and I was sitting in the office of Scarlet Cord. Located in the Red Light District of Amsterdam, Scarlet Cord provides alternative options for women working in prostitution. Over 20,000 girls work in the legalized profession, and Amsterdam has made itself famous around the world for the glitz and glamour of this district. Four hundred windows line the streets, each with a red light outside to signify the brothel is open for business. The first time I was here, it took me days to process what I had seen. The women were organized by nationality, as if they were a product in a mall. I wanted to believe the clients were men who looked troubled. And certainly some do. But the truth is that most didn’t, and when you enter this sad world, multiple layers of your person and confidence in others are attacked. You feel sorry for some of the girls, perplexed by others, angry at the clients, fearful of the pimps, and suddenly insecure in your own life, wondering if you can really ever trust someone. The first time, it brought all my insecurities and fears to the surface. Four years later, it affects me differently. Now it makes me incredibly sad. For on either side of any transaction is someone being a destructive version of themselves. The reasons are plentiful, sometimes seemingly simple and oftentimes complex. But for all the lights and supposed glamour, at the heart of it is something tragic.

And Stacey walked in. She had been working in prostitution for eight years. At the age of 17, a boyfriend put her behind the window to work and help him pay off some debts. Her story began long before the night he betrayed her, and she openly shared all that had happened. She was tough and I liked her. I liked that she looked me straight in the eye, that she was honest about life, the things she had figured out, and the things she had not. She wanted out of prostitution now, and one night at work, a Scarlet Cord worker knocked on her window and let her know they could help if she wanted an alternative. The Netherlands wanted to make prostitution a legal and viable profession that women were free to “choose.” But as Scarlet Cord has said, it is only a choice if they can also choose to leave. Physical fear, language barriers, personal debts, and lack of options prevent many from believing they have a choice. When Stacey thought it might actually be possible for her, she wandered into their office. As we sat side by side and talked, I asked her what she wanted to do. She thought for a moment and answered that she thought she would like being a makeup artist.

And so Scarlet Cord helped her leave the district, find housing, and provided a social worker available to her for weekly meetings and job assistance. They helped her to apply for government provisions for housing assistance. They helped her identify and apply to a reputable cosmetology school. And when she was accepted, Wellspring provided a scholarship.

I have not seen her since she finished the course, and I am truly excited. She hugs us warmly and we walk with her to the apartment she recently moved into. It is owned by Scarlet Cord and they manage the property. She pays them a reasonable rent and has a nice apartment and support system. She is now a freelance makeup artist and works for modeling agencies in Amsterdam. She earns a good salary and she showed us recent ad photos for which she had done the makeup work.

She still has the tough exterior. She is still honest and sometimes shockingly blunt. I still love and respect this about her. She openly talks about her life, what she has learned, which battles rage within her. She asks me why I am not dating and wonders aloud how we can fix this. I laugh and tell her, really, it is just fine. We talk about the trials of dating and broken hearts, birthdays, and family, and friendship. And I still feel that same connection. I see myself in her and her in me. That is the thing about crossing into different worlds. Our experiences are different, we’re dealt different hands. But when you see the humanity behind each seemingly distant life, you realize how much the same we all really are.

Cape Town

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

by Naomi Zacharias

We woke up to our last day in Cape Town. Laurie took on another hike in the early morning hours and I tried to catch up on a few hours of sleep after my third night of wide-eyed, jet-lag-induced insomnia. When she returned we ate a hurried breakfast and then began a short day in Cape Town before heading to the airport for our evening flight.

We went to see a Home from Home house currently under construction and tried to stay out of the way of activity as Pippa and the architect went over details, including the wrong colored roof panels that had been recently installed. I realized the many hats she wears and the various areas of expertise she has had to claim, from non- profit administration, to child care issues, to brick laying and square footage. She is remarkable.

From here we visited a school in the community of Vrygrond. It was recently built in a less affluent township and stands impressively due to one man’s commitment to “pay it forward” to his home town and a community that decided to work together for the good of the whole. It’s a beautiful facility and, in addition to providing education that includes art and music classes to 600 students, they provide two meals and a shack to each child every day. For many students, this will be their only nutrition for the day. After spending some time with the Administrator, we left and went to the community library. It won the branch award in the Western Cape in 2006 and its very proud administrator, Beulah, glowed as she told us what made her township different. She credited this to the strength of women in the community. I remember an Eleanor Roosevelt quote I once read that said, “Women are like teabags. You never know how strong they are until you put them in hot water.” From the women in my life to the ones in Africa, this seems to hold true. This library encourages literacy and language lessons and also provides basic needs like shoes and clothing to children who wander through. Laurie and I asked many questions, and as we walked away, we still pondered what it was that makes one community embrace its challenges together to affect change for the next generation, while another allows their circumstances to make each one fiercely concerned for the self at the cost of both the individual and others. This seems to be a question for human nature, rather than any one culture.

We discussed various NGO’s in the area that provide job training and placement for men and women, educational needs, and medical care. When I am there in the future, I plan to visit selected organizations to expand our efforts in Cape Town.

After overnight travel, terminal confusion, and a bit of baggage issues that required quite the circus act, we finally boarded the last flight of this route close to midnight.
When we wake up, we will be in The Netherlands.