This time: UGANDA!

So...as I see that my last post was in August of 2008, I'm a bit discouraged to see that I was right about getting caught up in my petty little concerns here and forgetting about the bigger world out there. Though, in my own defense (against my self-insults), I must say that the past 8 months have not been completely wasted with my self-absorption. In fact, quite a bit has come of my experience in Cambodia.

First, I was able to present to several groups about what I saw and learned about human trafficking in Cambodia, which was rewarding and confirming to me. Second, during one of my presentations, I was approached by one of the professors in my program about joining her research group, which focuses on child trauma, particularly through sexual exploitation. After a bit of talking and maneuvering, I am now a member of her research lab, and am thrilled beyond words with it. Most of our time is spent analyzing data from an organization in Oakland that works with prostituted adolescents. Heartbreaking and motivating.

Now, as you may remember, the highlight of my Cambodia trip was my visit to the Transitions Cambodia shelter, and meeting its founder, James Pond. Well, upon my return to the States I became more and more intent on working with Transitions somehow, and it was at that time that I discovered that James and his wife, Athena, were expanding Transitions Cambodia into a global operation, and were starting a shelter in Portland, Oregon, for survivors of trafficking and slavery in the US! Can you imagine how thrilling that is?! It has been my goal to figure out how to help these survivors, and to start some sort of a program for the enslaved in our very own country - and now the hardest part (the getting it started part) is already being done! And by two of the people I most respect, using the most effective model of recovery worldwide! Eek! So, I proposed to my research advisor that we offer our data collection/analysis services to Transitions Global, and she was immediately on board. After several emails and phone conferences with James, I am on my way to leading up the only official research and data collection of human trafficking recovery programs in the US. But wait, it gets even better...Transitions Global has also just started a shelter in Mumbai, India...this means that I will be gathering and analyzing data for a recovery model being implemented in 3 different countries: Cambodia, India, and the US! If you are a research geek like me, you know just how absolutely HUGE this is!

So, that exciting news aside...I have even more. You might need a break first - go ahead and get a cup of coffee and stretch your legs. I'll wait......back? Ok. I'm taking another trip this summer: this time to UGANDA, Africa! I'm actually organizing the trip this time, and it looks like it will be mostly comprised of my fellow PhD students at PGSP, though others are welcome, as well. The trip is being planned and facilitated by Alessandro and Global Exchange again, the same group and director for the Cambodia trip. I'm SO SO SO excited, and will be writing again soon to explain why Uganda is our destination. In the meantime, please also take a minute to visit my new website at http://www.angeljdaniels.com/, where I am selling my artwork to raise money for the Uganda research.

Thanks for hanging in there with me! More to come!

August 21, 2008 - Mountain View, CA

Well, I'd say I've officially settled back into life in the States. That's not to say I'm any less eager to be back in Cambodia and/or be productive in my anti-human trafficking efforts, but I'm happy to say I've come out of my funk. Mostly out of necessity - I'm so darn busy!

One thing that I am continually amazed about is how "destined" I seem to be to work in this field. I'm not sharing this out of self-centeredness (aren't I just faaaabulous?), but because I think its important for people to pay attention to where they are being led. I started thinking about this because the question I most often get asked about my efforts is "what got you interested in human trafficking?". I think people expect that I've had some personal connection to it; that I've known someone who was a victim or was otherwise exposed to it in someway. For me it was a lot simpler than that. One day, while working for an incredible organization called Young Life, my boss mentioned the International Justice Mission (IJM) to me in a random conversation. He gave a brief explanation (they fight slavery) and moved on. I was baffled as to what he could mean. Um, Jeff, slavery ended with the Civil War. So, I looked IJM up on the internet (http://www.ijm.org) and was dumfounded by what I learned on their site. Not only are there people living in slavery today, but it's over twice the number of people enslaved during the entire trans-atlantic slave trade! Furthermore, I read about the horrific practice of sex slavery and sexual exploitation. And that was it. That was the moment that I got interested. I just knew that I was meant to do something about it.

The path that I have taken as a result of this growing interest hasn't been the most direct or even the most clear to me, but it has been full of confirmation to me that this is where I am being led. I decided to pursue my master's degree in forensic psychology, and upon my arrival at that school discovered that my campus was literally next door to IJM and that my advisor and mentor was closely involved with IJM. Now, in my doctoral program, I have been wanting to focus my research onto this topic, but was already committed to a research project at the state prison that was going to fill up all my time. I just got word yesterday that our research authorization at the prison got yanked and my advisor gave me the go-ahead to focus on my human trafficking research! And then last night I met up with a friend from DC who was in town, and she informed me that she is good friends with the deputy director of the Polaris Project - one of the leading anti-human trafficking organizations in the US - and that she'd be happy to put us in touch! It's these little signs that confirm to me that this is the direction I should be heading. And I'm wondering how many of us are getting similar "signs" about what we are meant to do, but overlook them because we are so caught up in our own agenda. I know that I'm only starting to recognize my signs as I reflect on the past few years, but now that I see them, I'm eagerly waiting for more. It's a glorious feeling - to find your purpose!

So, thanks for bearing with me as I got on my soapbox for a little bit, but I really just want to encourage others to figure out what they are passionate about. There are so many worthy causes out there, and such a shortage of people who care enough to take action. If you're reading this blog, I already know you're one who cares enough to do something, I just hope you find your path as rewarding as I do!

If, in the meantime, you want to find a way to contribute to a worthy cause today, I found this great option for giving on the Polaris Project's website...they have recently started transitional living apartments for survivors of trafficking in DC, and have registered for household items at Target. To buy something for real-life survivors here in our very own country, visit: http://www.target.com/registry/wedding/33SWO3ZQ2M0ER. There is a wide range of prices - so even if you only have a little to give, it can mean a lot to them!

July 21, 2008 - Mountain View, CA 3:30pm

I have hesitated to write since my return to the States, mostly because I have no idea what to say. The adjustment to life back in the U.S. has been extremely difficult for me. I know that, unless I share my experiences with people here, my trip would have been for nothing. But I don't even know where to start. Especially hard for me to address are the well-meaning conversational starters of "so, tell me about your trip". I know that those who ask are sincere in wanting to know about it, but I don't think they have any idea of what they would get if I started really talking. And there is no way to give a 2-minute overview while passing someone in the hallway. I feel like you either need to know the whole story or none of it. I mean, if I'm still putting it all together, how can anyone else possibly understand how complex and deep the human trafficking situation is in Cambodia. But, I'm determined to share it. I have to share it. People need to know.

So, until I find my words, bear with me. I will talk to you.

It's hard to be here, which is ironic because the whole time I was in Cambodia I was thinking how how hard it was to be there. It's hard to look around and see so much wealth and gluttony and materialism. I'm not pointing fingers here; I think the same thing when looking at my own life. It's hard to tolerate the petty concerns and dramas we create for ourselves out of boredom. It's hard to have nobody to talk to here who knows what I'm thinking. I have incredible people in my life - people who deeply care about humanity and justice - but they simply weren't there with me. And regardless of how much they may want to understand, they just can't. So I feel lonely here in this country of excess. With our wide open roads that we consider to be full of traffic. And our exasperation at having to wait in line for groceries. And my cat that has to lose 5 pounds because he has too much to eat.

I feel so far away from reality. How can I go about my normal higher-education life here knowing what struggling is really like? I feel an impatience to do something. I'm going crazy thinking that it will be 4 more years until I can actually get to work. I have faith that getting my PhD will help me do more than I can without it, but in the meantime all I can think about is all those people who are suffering today. And I'm stuck here studying for exams and trying to pretend like I feel like I belong.

July 11, 2008 - Phnom Penh, Cambodia 10:00pm

My last full day here in Cambodia was spent at Transitions Cambodia, Inc. (TCI). I am SO excited and encouraged by the work that James and his staff do at TCI, and am thrilled that I got to end my trip with that experience.

James was a Special Ops Marine, who was working in a civilian company making $250,000/year in Oregon. One day, he and his family watched a documentary about human trafficking called Children For Sale and they decided, as a family, to do something. He quit is job and he, his wife, daughter (16 years old), and two sons (14 and 9), packed up and moved to Cambodia to start an organization to help victims not only recover, but discover who they were meant to be. TCI is a home-like environment that is structured to “help girls rebuild their lives in a meaningful and sustainable way”. I could go in-depth about how exactly they do that, but instead I will highlight some of the aspects of the program that are particularly unique and exciting. TCI provides housing, medical care, counseling, social work, safety, yoga, art therapy, education, and vocational training. James firmly believes that all girls deserve to rediscover their smile, so each girl gets extensive dental work until her smile is perfect. In the first phase of the treatment process, the girls are required to set career goals. The only limitations put on them is that they cannot choose menial labor. Unlike other programs that offer participants training in sewing, cooking, etc, TCI asserts that “if you give girls a job sewing in a factory, it doesn't do much to restore her dignity”. It also doesn't do much to address the larger societal problem that valued them so little to begin with. James encourages the girls to set a goal that they don't think they can reach, and then make sure that they do. For example, one of the girls that recently completed the program now works as a translator for the government and makes 3x the average Cambodian wage. She was able to move away from Phnom Penh as an independent, confident, and self-supporting woman.

TCI also trains the girls in basic life skills (such as going to market and cleaning their own houses – since many of them have been prostitutes since childhood and never learned basic self-care), physical fitness (to learn how their emotions and bodies are interconnected, mainly through yoga and therapy combined), big-sister program with another girl further along in the program, and requires that they participate in community service to learn to give back and improve their society. The girls themselves decide when they are ready to leave the house.

After our fantastic education from James, we spent the rest of the day just hanging out with the girls who were so excited to have us there. Normally, James doesn't allow visitors to TCI (he doesn't want the girls to feel like they are zoo animals), but he believed in our mission and thought it could be good for them to socialize with us. They cooked for us, and then we spent a while playing games and crafts together.

One of the girls, Srey Neth, has agreed to share her story in order to save other girls from the suffering she has survived. Neth is currently 19 years old, and has been at TCI since she was rescued from the Building by International Justice Mission a couple of years ago. Had I met her in any other setting, I would have thought she was a typical, if not extra goofy and silly, Cambodian teenager. She was definitely the entertainer and leader of the group and kept us all laughing with her funny dancing and sharp wit. But Neth is making up for a childhood that was lost. At age 14, her mother sold Neth into a brothel at the Building for $300. The madam who ran the brothel sold Neth's virginity for $300. For the next year, Neth was forced to service an average of 20 men per day, 7 days per week, even when she was sick or hurt. When she cried, she was electrocuted or beaten by her madam. She was given injections into her belly to stop her from getting her period so that she could work continuously. She eventually contracted HIV.

And today this exceptionally strong and resilient child made me laugh and be silly with her. She outsmarted me in a game we were playing and teased me for it. She showed me some of her artwork, including a drawing depicting her being beaten by her madam in the brothel. She is training to be a teacher, and helps counsel the other girls at TCI. She calls James “chicken hair” because of his hair style and he throws her over her shoulder while she shreaks and giggles. James, one of my new heroes, is so fatherly with these girls that in the face of the ugliest side of what men can do, he restores my faith that men can be good and noble and empathetic. And he seems to have restored his girls' faith in men, too. I would have thought that would be impossible.

Transitions Cambodia is funded completely by donations. It is a 501c3, so all donations are tax-deductible and qualify for employer matching. Please consider donating as a monthly donor ($35 per month can provide medical and dental care for one girl!) or one-time donation. Contact me for more info or go to http://www.transitionscambodia.org

July 10, 2008 - Phnom Penh, Cambodia 11:00pm

Tonight I went out with Tammy, Alessandro, and James Pond (that's Pond, not 007...though he could be), who founded and runs Transitions Cambodia, Inc. (TCI). James took us on a tuk-tuk (passenger trailer pulled by a motorbike – Cambodia's version of a cab) ride through the brothel areas of Phnom Penh. James told us that there had been a recent crack-down on the well-known brothels, in a response to the U.N. And U.S.'s ultimatums (make more of an effort against trafficking and child prostitution or we'll stop giving you money). Unfortunately, rather than stopping sex slavery, it only forced it further underground or relocated it. I'm sure this is a case of “treating the symptom not the disease” in terms of the larger systematic problems at play, but in any case, James told us that we wouldn't see as much as we would have a few months ago. Could have fooled me. We rode down streets and streets just filled with girls sitting outside of bars and clubs where they either worked for pimps as street prostitutes, in sex bars, brothels, or as “hostesses”. They all looked so young. James told us that what we were seeing was just the outer layer of the sex trade in Phnom Penh. Like a rotting, stinking, poisoned onion, there is layer upon layer of exploitation, degradation, and criminality. Some of the bars, we were told, had a “fishbowl” set up, where a man would enter to see a glass room filled with girls sitting on bleachers, all with numbers pinned to their chests. He simply orders which one he wants by number. Others are a little less obvious, employing hostesses who try to get men to buy as many drinks as possible before paying to take her upstairs. And then there is the Building. The Building is enormous and looks like it has been bombed out (probably has). I wouldn't set foot anywhere in the vicinity, just for the fear of it collapsing as I walked by. Well, this charming little locale is the hub of Phnom Penh's sex trafficking industry. Inside, we were told, every single room (formerly apartments) is filled with brothels (aka, sex slaves). Many of them children. It is unclear why the police haven't targeted the Building, but I suspect the reasons are also multi-layered. James told us that a friend of his, who worked undercover to rescue girls from the Building, vomited the first time he entered one of the rooms. The stench of human excretions (mostly male, if you catch my drift) was so overpowering that he had to leave and come back later to avoid throwing up again in front of the madam.

To get an even closer view of sexual exploitation at play, James took us to a bar called the Walk About, which caters mainly to Westerners. He and Alessandro waited outside, and told Tammy and I to go in and look around. He wanted to get a woman's perspective on it. At first, it looked like any American bar. Lots of older white guys having drinks and laughing. On closer inspection, all of the white guys were chatting with young (and I mean young) Cambodian girls. We headed upstairs and, on the way up, encountered a girl who needed help putting her dress back on. Before we could offer, a fat old white guy rushed to her side to lace up her dress, while also happening to grope all over her. Ew. Upstairs was a large group of older men – imagine 7 or 8 American businessmen that you would see on a golf course – each with 2 or 3 young girls hanging on him. As I watched these men, probably doctors and CEO's, I couldn't help but think of how easy it would be, if I were them, to fool myself into thinking that the girls were enjoying themselves. I guess I always have the image of the prostitute as sad and deadened, based on what I've read about the psychological effects of the industry, but failed to remember that they also have to sell themselves successfully. Therefore, they play the part of happy and fun, flirty and desiring of the men. If that's all I wanted to believe, I could see how tempting it would be to ignore the reality of what these girls endured and accept them at face-value.

With our blood boiling, Tammy and I decided that it was time to go. We couldn't stand to see human beings traded around as products any longer. On our way out, two younger American guys sitting at the bar grabbed my arm. They asked if we wanted to go out drinking and dancing with them. We said we couldn't, and then one of the guys told me that we really need to leave the bar. When I asked why, he flatly told me “because this is a hooker bar”. “Oh, really?”, Tammy said. He quickly explained that he and his friend (both professors) had booked a room in the hotel (conveniently upstairs from the “hooker bar”) without knowing what type of a place it was. I told him I was surprised that they stayed, then, and asked how he felt about staying in a place like that if he wasn't partaking in it. He said it didn't bother him – that it's just a cultural thing for the women and it's the only way they can make money. I wanted to smack his fat face and give him a serious education about why he should be bothered. But before I gave in to the temptation, Tammy dragged me out and back to the tuk-tuk, where our chivalrous men, men who fight for the rights of these women and understand what the sex trade does to them, waited to comfort us.

July 10, 2008 - Kompong Chhnang Province, Cambodia 5:00pm

We left Phnom Penh and drove to the Kompong Chhnang province (about an hour away) to meet with Randa, the director of Kampuchea for Christ. Randa is a Cambodian woman who started a center in the province that cares for victims of sexual abuse, rape, and sex slavery. The center itself is impressive and lovely, but even more striking to me was Randa's own life story. To put her story in context, I will give an extremely brief explanation of the past 40 years or so of Cambodia.

Following the Vietnam War Cambodia went through several years of civil war. Then, on April 17, 1975, the war-ravaged capital of Phnom Penh was “saved” when an army of Cambodian soldiers, mostly young, and dressed in all black marched silently into the city. The people thought that they were there to end the war and they rejoiced. They cheered, hugged, and cried with relief. They gathered in the streets to meet the soldiers and thank them. The soldiers, representing the Khmer Rouge Regime and directed by the newly assigned leader, Pol Pot, told the people that the Americans were going to bomb the city in the next few days and that they had to evacuate. This wasn't a stretch to believe, as the Nixon administration had recently relentlessly bombed other areas of Cambodia for days on end in an attempt to quash communism. Within three hours of their arrival, the Khmer Rouge soldiers had emptied the entire city of Phnom Penh and drove all of its residents to the countryside, where they killed them all with pick-ax blows to the backs of their heads and necks. The fields where the mass killings took place came to be known as The Killing Fields. But they didn't stop there. Under Pol Pot's orders, they continued their terrorizing throughout the whole country. They targeted the educated class of Cambodia, focusing on torturing and killing the upper-level of society. Those that they didn't kill right away were held in torture camps and interrogated. Supposedly, every single one of them was suspected of espionage for the CIA and KGB, but it is much more likely that they were the only ones that posed a threat of speaking out against the Regime.

When it was all said and done, from 1975 to 1979, the Khmer Rouge Regime murdered 2 MILLION Cambodians, including all of its doctors, teachers, professors, lawyers, judges, government workers, and other professionals. The entire educated class of Cambodia was wiped out. Their children were also all killed in an effort to avoid future acts of revenge.

When I arrived in Cambodia, I had heard vaguely of the Khmer Rouge regime, but had no idea of how central that period in time was to creating the country that I found on my trip. It is hard enough for a country to recover from a period of war, especially on it's own soil, but Cambodia's problem is even greater. Not only had they lost all of their educated class who were essentially running the country before, but they had nobody to train and teach a new generation how to fill those roles. They are a poor nation of farmers and laborers who were left to start from scratch. They went from having 40,000 doctors to having 40, and nobody left to teach medical students. The country is in such widespread poverty that I can't imagine a child growing up in one of these poor villages thinking of anything but survival, much less higher education. But, even if they did, who would teach them? Nobody knows how the courts and government used to run. I consider myself part of the educated class in the U.S., but even I would seriously screw up if I was left to start a legal system from scratch. So, as these people struggle to recover from devastating war, genocide, and grief, they must not only fight for basic survival, but also to build an entirely new country. And all the while, they are trying to find strength to move past the horrors that they themselves have witnessed. I don't think I met one person in Cambodia that hadn't lost someone in the Regime. It's a wonder that they have any faith left in humanity. And learning all of this has helped me to understand how the corruption, poverty, and inhumanities are occurring. How could they not?

So, back to Randa. We met with Randa, and she told us her story while we sat on huge home-made swings under palm-frond huts. Randa was 12 or 13 when the Khmer Rouge entered Phnom Penh. Her family was slaughtered in the Killing Fields, and she was taken to a torture camp where she knew she would be killed. One day, she decided that she would rather die anywhere but there, so she hid in the back of a military truck and held herself up against the wall of it behind a blanket. The truck left the camp and, after a few hours of driving, her muscles gave out and she tumbled into the front of the truck. The soldiers looked down at her, and asked her what she was doing. She said that the would rather die anywhere but the torture camp, and asked if they could kill her there instead of taking her back. One of the soldiers, a female, promised that she would keep Randa with her and wouldn't let her go back. When they got to their base, Randa was told that she would be trained to shoot a gun and kill for them. The little girl of only 13 looked at them and said that she would not. Rather than killing her, they said that she could instead work as a maid for them, but that she would not be allowed to speak a word – ever. So, she worked with some other children as the silent slaves of the Khmer Rouge soldiers for months and months. One morning, she awoke to the sound of gunfire and bombs, and saw that the base had been completely abandoned. Only she and the children remained. She decided to wait one week, and if nobody came for them, they would run. A week later, she and the children escaped from the base into the jungle. There they hid for days, covering themselves with dirt and leaves to avoid detection and mosquitos. At one point, they all hid in a pond for 3 whole days, and when they finally emerged, they couldn't even see their skin because they were covered in leeches. Weak from the loss of blood, Randa stumbled upon an American military envoy, and was saved. They took her to a refugee camp and asked where she would like to be re-settled. She said America. Her story of being in the Camp, hearing about the Bible, becoming a Christian, meeting her husband, moving to the States, and then deciding to return to Cambodia is one that could best be read in her autobiography, which is available for sale. Learning about her experiences first-hand are much more powerful than my weak re-telling, so I highly recommend reading it.

Randa made us all cry with her story. Perhaps the most incredible part, to me, was that she returned to the country that caused her so much heartache and trauma, and decided to immerse herself in other people's pain in order to help them recover. She is so inspirational and encouraging. If and when Cambodia recovers from the atrocities it has seen, it will be because of people like Randa.

(Film about the Khmer Rouge genocide: The Killing Fields; Randa and Setan's stories: http://denver.rockymountainnews.com/flash/cambodia/print.shtml)

July 9, 2008 - Phnom Penh, Cambodia 10:00pm

Just when I think I've come to grasp the level of injustice and corruption that the Cambodian people have been subjected to, I learn something that knocks me right back into utter disbelief. Today was one of those times. We were greeted this morning by an American girl named Ali, who came over to Cambodia for a visit after graduating from college and, once she saw what was happening here, canceled her flight home and decided to stay to help. The specific situation that gripped Ali's heart was that of Andon. Andon is a “community” of squatters that was established by the Cambodian government about an hour outside of Phnom Penh. In the 1990's, foreign real-estate developers decided that they wanted to buy a huge stretch of land along the river in Phnom Penh. They were willing to pay a generous price to the Cambodian government for it, and the offer was too good to refuse. Unfortunately, the land was already occupied by approximately 1,600 families who owned homes and businesses on it. The government offered an insultingly low price to the families to vacate and they, quite rightly, turned it down. So, early one morning at around 4:00 am, the government invaded the community with tanks and armed soldiers. They woke everyone and told them they had 30 minutes to gather their belongings and vacate their homes. Those who resisted would be met with violence. Some did resist and were killed. The rest, terrified and confused, loaded onto the buses and were shipped to the middle of nowhere. There, they were given some meager supplies and then left to eke out an existence. So, 1,600 families were taken from an urban city-dwelling lifestyle, to being homeless in the fields and to fight for survival. Few of them knew how to build, farm, or otherwise make a life out of nothing. To make matters worse, the government had originally planned to buy 3 hectors for the families to live on, but didn't want to pay that much so they squeezed them onto one. And there they remain today. A small square of land crammed full of families who live in huts and shacks constructed of found materials. They have no space. They live shoulder to shoulder. They must compete for the limited resources available to them and, therefore, do not trust or look out for one another. They have no source of income, no place or way to get work. They live on nearly nothing. Their drinking water is drawn from trenches that you and I wouldn't even put our feet in. As I walked through Andon, I kept reminding myself that these weren't some breed of gypsies or voluntary settlers. These were respected business people and citizens of Cambodia. And they were reduced to this. The complete lack of control and power they have over their own lives was shocking to me. And, of course, they were extremely vulnerable to traffickers and exploitation.

The indignation I feel at how people can treat their fellow man makes me want to vomit. And I feel so frustrated that all I can do is look on and be angry. There are several organizations that have been trying to help the people of Andon, including the one that Ali works for, but for some reason Andon seems to be only further declining. There is a great deal of sickness in the community (mostly from the lack of clean drinking water), and rising levels of domestic violence, assault, and rape. And there are so many children. Everywhere I walked, all I saw were children. Naked babies being cared for by nearly naked toddlers, watched by barely dressed children. A whole generation growing up thinking that Andon is what their lot in life is. I wonder if they will ever know anything different.

While I was standing and taking photos, I felt a little hand on my leg. A tiny girl, no more than three years old, had wrapped her arm around my knee and was resting her head on my thigh. She didn't look up at me or ask for anything. She just wanted contact. Comfort. Shelter. She wasn't even clinging or grasping me. Just leaning ever so lightly. And as I moved along through the alleys, she stuck with me until, suddenly, I looked down and she was gone. My heart hurts for her and for the fact that I didn't swoop her up in my arms and take her away from there.