Trade As One

Asia’s largest red-light district, Kamathipura, situated in Mumbai, is home to 20,000 sex slaves. The fourteen “lanes” of the district crawl with people: those in search of some instant, temporary gratification, those enslaved to a life of prostitution, whether by force or by “choice” (lacking a better option), and those who run it all. Each goes about their days with blank, stony expressions, lifelessness behind their eyes.

Then there’s a small group of people in the area who are different; they have hope in their eyes and passion and perseverance in their blood. As they encounter people on the streets and in the brothels, they treat them with with compassion and love. Their faith motivates them to stop to chat and to ask after individuals’ health, seven days a week.

These are Bombay Teen Challenge’s outreach workers. They take a unique approach to India’s sex slavery epidemic, choosing to form relationships with prostitutes and brothel owners alike, to befriend them and to regularly engage in their lives. As they gain the women’s trust, they teach them of their intrinsic value and worth, and offer them a way out of slavery.

As with many of the epidemics that plague India, the roots of Kamathipura go deep into India’s history, making the work to undo the damage done that much more complicated. BTC faces a great deal of opposition, not only from brothel owners and gang members, but also from corrupt police and government officials, who do not actually institute law as they should, and are often tempted with bribes.

Sitting uncomfortably in a cramped, dimly lit room on the bed of a prostitute, with shivers running down my spine, I looked into the lifeless eyes of a fifteen-year-old girl and tried not to fall apart completely. I was on the verge of tears, my heart crying for her brokenness, yelling at such injustice.

Once one delves into the issues of sex slavery and human trafficking, it becomes all too evident how complex and multi-faceted they are, and it is easy to lose hope for ending them. However, organizations such as BTC model how to strive for justice while continuing to love, how to persevere in the face of opposition, and how to live in the present while hoping for the future.

Just a few miles from Ashagram, down winding roads and past rural villages, are situated Jubilee 1, 2, and 4. The Jubilee homes are part of Bombay Teen Challenge’s work with children of women working in the Red Light Districts in Mumbai. Jubilee 4 houses the youngest children, brought by their mothers to BTC with requests to care for them because they cannot. As soon as we entered Jubilee 4, twenty tiny hands clamored to hold ours. We were then literally dragged up and down the stairs, in and out of their large bedrooms, while each of them pointed out their cupboards and beds. As we were in the girls’ bedroom, three young boys simultaneously squealed “This my bed! This my cupboard!” while pointing to a cupboard full of Barbies. When the children had tired of showing us all their worldly possessions, we proceeded en masse downstairs to play games and sing songs with them.

Our time at Jubilee 1 & 2 was a bit mellower, as the children were older. They were excited nonetheless to have guests and each introduced themselves, asking us our favorite color, pop music artist, and movie. Sharing through singing and dancing seemed to be a theme wherever we ventured, and at Jubilee 1 & 2 we witnessed some spectacular break dancing! We also asked the girls to teach us some Hindi dance, which they agreed to, and we proceeded to make complete fools out of ourselves.

Back at Jubilee 4, as the young children settled down for a nap, we were able to spend some time with Sony, the woman who runs Jubilee 4. Her dedication to the children was striking. She works all week long, along with four other full-time staff, to serve and love the forty children who live in the orphanage. From infants to thirteen year olds, these children come to her with a vast range of problems on a daily basis, yet she treats each one of them with compassion as if they were one of her own.

When asked if she gets tired and worn out, she shook her head, “Not really”. She emphasized how much she relies on prayer and on God to keep up her energy. This passion and stamina is evident in all of the BTC staff. Whether due to their own life experience or observations, they are burdened by the havoc that sex slavery is wreaking and are seeking wholeheartedly to fight it and improve the lives of those affected.

This same passion shone through the outreach staff that works seven days a week in the Red Light District. Details of our visit to the Red Light District to come in the next post.

Mention the name Bombay Teen Challenge (BTC) to anyone involved in social justice issues in India and they will recognize it.  Over the past twenty years, BTC has made huge strides in battling the complex and horrifying issues that plague the streets of Mumbai, dealing with sex slavery victims, their children, and street children and runaways. Lindsay, Mum, and I were privileged to spend four days with this organization and see firsthand the work that they are doing.

Our first three days were spent about two hours outside of Mumbai at BTC’s center, Ashagram, which means village of hope. Ashagram originated as a place for women who had been rescued out of the red light districts in Mumbai; it offered safety and rehabilitation, counseling and community, as well as a lifelong commitment to them. Ashagram now not only continues to serve these women but also young girls and boys who have been rescued from the streets so that they don’t get caught up in prostitution, drugs, and associated problems that permeate Mumbai. These girls and boys receive education, food, and a roof over their heads – three basic things that so many of India’s youth never experience.

Furthermore, the girls, boys, and women at Ashagram receive love in its purest form. Lindsay, Mum, and I were struck so powerfully by the amount of love and care that every person showered upon one another. These people, who have encountered adversity in their lives that we cannot fathom know how to love so much better than us, in our comfortable, sound, western environments.

We experienced this love from the women and girls firsthand. Living at Ashagram, we certainly felt like outsiders, not knowing exactly how to interact with the women and girls around us. Language posed a huge barrier, particularly with the older women, as most of them had never learned English. Interactions began with nods, smiles, and simple questions, such as “Hungry?” or “Hot?” on our walks to and from the dining hall. While wary of us outsiders at first, the women and girls gradually warmed up to us and we would sit making bracelets for hours, while teaching one another English and Hindi words. We were treated to delicious food at every mealtime, served on at a beautifully laid table. By the end of our last night at Ashagram, we were dancing around in our pajamas and laughing at ourselves as we attempted to learn Hindi dance from some of the girls.

We did not learn much about the stories or situations of these women and girls prior to their time at Ashagram, as we were not there long enough to gain their willingness to delve into their painful pasts. However, we were able to just share with and love them, and receive great love back from them. After leaving Ashagram, we learned some of their stories and will share them in upcoming posts.

To read more about BTC and the work they are doing, visit http://bombayteenchallenge.org.

As we tell these stories of our time in and around Mumbai, we cannot fail to mention the terrorist attacks that took place in Mumbai on Wednesday. Our thoughts and prayers are with our friends, those affected, and those in positions of authority in their decision-making. 

The culture of hospitality permeates India. On this particular sightseeing Saturday in Mumbai, we experienced Indian hospitality at its finest.

Due to a variety of unfortunate circumstances, including our unreliable driver leaving our car unattended and having to retrieve it with our host, Mum, Lindsay and I found ourselves standing rather awkwardly on the side of the pavement, with our host’s words, “There’s a wedding going on in there - go inside!” ringing in our ears. We grew increasingly uncomfortable as both the hot afternoon sun and the stares of passers by bore into us. Meanwhile, we welcomed momentary distraction as wedding guests joyfully entered the ceremony next door, dressed in their finest silk saris. It wasn’t long before our host’s suggestion began to sound like a very good idea.

Shortly thereafter, the bride and groom exited the building to have their photographs taken; we stood gaping at how beautifully adorned they were. Feeling gutsy, I approached the bride and motioned, “Can I take a picture?” She nodded, smiling, so Lindsay and I snapped away. Moments later, we were being whisked inside by the bride’s uncle and ushered past turning heads, to the front row seats of honor. Said uncle then introduced us to about thirty relatives, from the bride’s parents to one girl about whom he stated, “This one’s a doctor”. Each one smiled graciously at us, seemingly very happy to meet us. Embarrassment would grossly understate our reaction.

It was a relief to have somewhat normal conversations with a few of the relatives, who wondered where we were from and why we didn’t speak any Hindi. A number of the women, bedecked with intricate henna and stunning jewelry, pointed confusedly at our wrists, asking us why we weren’t wearing any bangles. We shrugged our shoulders at them, only to find out later from our host that women wear an abundance of bangles in order to round out their wrists, as “flat” wrists are considered unattractive. Colored bangles also have differing meanings throughout India — the woman pictured below wears green bangles because she is married. Check out the various bangles we sell so that you, too, can beautify your wrists!

After politely refusing the countless invitations to stay for “lunch”, (an Indian feast), we took our leave from the wedding party. We met up with our host and driver, who had retrieved the car for the grand sum of 600 rupees (about three US dollars) and proclaimed our disbelief at the extent of Indian hospitality.

Apparently, in Indian culture, guests are quite literally treated as gods.

Before we began our organization visits, our gracious host took Mum, Amy, and I sight-seeing around Mumbai. Though prepared for another frustratingly-traffic-clogged Mumbai drive, we enjoyed the ride into downtown, which took us across a magnificent string bridge surprisingly reminiscent of one in Charleston, South Carolina.

A highlight was the “Dhobi Ghat,” stop number one of the visit. The Dhobi Ghat is an enormous open-air Laundromat where “dhobis” (washers) clean the clothes from Mumbai’s hotels and hospitals. There are rows of open-air concrete wash pens, each fitted with its own flogging stone, and lines upon lines of drying laundry. The ghat hosts many young kids trying to earn a living off the hundreds of tourists who pass through to glimpse the unique sight. I had a moment of sobering clarity here, seeing the discrepancy between the tourists who used those very hotel towels and the severely underpaid dhobis hanging them out to dry in front of us.

Walking and riding around downtown Mumbai with the sole purpose of seeing enabled me to intentionally open my eyes and absorb the new sights. Crippled people asleep on the roadside. A gaunt mother staring unseeingly into traffic while her children play around her. Men walking purposefully to work. Auto-rickshaws driven by bare-footed rickwalas honking, braking, accelerating. Teenage boys working roadside stalls, selling coconuts and hacking off the top roughly with a rusty machete, or grinding down sugar cane to make a sweet juice. People everywhere talking loudly and laughing. Street vendors selling strong-smelling sweets and savories…

...Which brings us to a second highlight: the street food we sampled. We grabbed some “batata vada,” which is also known as the “hamburger of Bombay”.

It consists of a thickly deep-fried mash of potatoes, onions, a little chili, and various other spices surrounded by a bread bun.  Our Indian friend warned us, with some trepidation about our weak western mouths, that the little burger would be hot, but having grown up around Indian food in London, we found it manageable. As is often the case with things deep-fried, it was good, but one was certainly enough. I’m definitely a bigger fan of dahl and curry and Indian breads. And chai (regular black tea made with milk, ginger, spices, and lots of sugar), which we consumed in large quantities during our time in India!

Stay tuned to the blog for a post from Amy involving our impromptu “participation” in a Hindu wedding…