Stolen Dignity

We are living in super crazy times. Being a humanitarian is not easy, and PS you don't need to work at the UN to be one. I met a girl whose name is "Mapenzi" as in "Lover"...she has the brightest and warmest smile ever. She has this foundation where she assists women, ladies, lass, girls, boys, men, and lads who have experienced or were about to experience the same ordeal as hers. She calls me "Haiba", to fit in I must have a fancy Swahili name. I love it, it suits me 100.

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"Binadamu ni mnyama jameni."... I want to know where she's coming from, which is not easy since she's the one who had experienced this first hand. She is strong but her tears can't seem to hold on when she narrates the story. "I was trafficked in 2010. I didn’t learn about domestic sex trafficking until 2015. That time gap alone should tell you a great deal about where we are in the anti-human trafficking movement today, and about what we still need to do. 

I never had a word for my experience.  I just know that the systems that were supposed to protect me did not. The people who were supposed to take care of me could not. And everything I saw and heard told me that this was all a result of my own decisions, my own bad choices. Once in a while you get robbed of your valuables in the city, how do you feel? Imagine being robbed of your dignity, your humanity, and the worst your entire life.

I was raised in poverty, one of 11 children in a Nairobi town where the wealthy vacationed. It was a messy, messy family – blended, with kids from everywhere. Both my parents were alcoholics. There was a lot of violence in the home. It was not unusual for a child or two to go missing. One of my sibling was never found.

Somehow, through that all, I managed to get good grades and even got a chance in these prestigious high schools. That all changed when my mother started sending me to work at 16 to clean other people’s houses. I went, I worked, and my mother took all the money for “room and board”, as she put it. I learned that lesson early: You work, but you don’t get to keep the money. You resist, you get beaten. 

At one of the houses I worked at, I was sexually assaulted. My mother didn’t believe the ER Doctor who examined me. Nor did she allow me to stop going to that house. Nightmares and flashbacks began right away and the only relief I could find was pot. My dreams all went down the drain.  The assaults continued. I got pregnant. 

No one asked any questions. No one put the pieces together. No one thought that the transition from straight-A student to a drugged teenager was anything other than bad choices I made, all by myself.

Eventually, the man who assaulted me and got me pregnant moved me away from home, from what little support I might have had with people I knew. He put me to work in a bookstore which he was using to do bad businesses and held my baby over me as leverage. I did what I was told: Pornography, stripping, prostitution.

He dealt drugs, got into trouble with the law, and had to leave town. So he sold me to a CEO pimp, a small-time mobster who I thought was my business manager. He sent me out on the sex trade circuit, driving from city to city – drugged and suicidal – but doing what I was told to keep my baby safe. By now I had witnessed what happened to women who said no. I got arrested from time to time, but again, no one asked questions, no one thought anything other than “here’s another messed up kid, making poor choices.” 

Eventually, I escaped “the life”. It was a long and ugly story involving drugs, violence, and hiding out for years, using every survival instinct I had. All these years later, I still have criminal charges on my record that were a direct result of being trafficked. I’ve got physical and mental scars I will never lose, but I survived. I went back to school which led to real jobs; progressively better ones over the years, always moving upward, never lateral moves. I fought for myself and I started to heal. Now, I have the most valuable thing (to me) in my life. I have a purpose. It's a miracle being here.  

It began with a pastor who I learned to trust; who listened to me, who saw me, who read between the lines of my story and saw coercion. She asked the right questions. She began to lead me in a direction that brought me to where I am today. With her, I attended a seminar on human trafficking and cried through five hours of presentations. I didn’t even know why I was crying. I just knew my heart was breaking for these poor women; not recognizing that I was one of them. Seminars like that didn’t exist when I was trafficked, before the Trafficking Victims Protection Act, before we had the name “human trafficking”. Before that seminar, I thought trafficking was something that only affected the poor. My sisters some didn't make it alive, others were shipped to foreign lands, to date we don't even know what happened to them. If they were lucky enough to escape or not.  

Once I accepted my own victimization, I began learning everything I could about trafficking and soon saw my experiences from a completely different angle. I stopped blaming myself for believing the lie that I chose to be exploited and learned all about psychological coercion; the method traffickers use to exploit 78% of their victims. With this knowledge and empowerment, I found a way to help others break free from “the life” And here I am today, back to where it all started, trying to help women and girls in my home area with the help of foundations such as Haart Kenya and others.

It is not easy, since the majority of these women are believing they shall get a better life and there's nothing to lose, so long as they get out of these streets, but I believe poverty is just a mindset. You can be happy and rich with the little you have. The sad part is some of our leaders are protecting these horrible people, but am hopeful brighter days are coming, for now, let's fight if my blood is to be shed for this am ready" She finishes with her warm smile.

Human Trafficking is a modern-day slavey in action. The industry is worth $ 150 billion. $99 billion alone is generated from sexual exploitation. The route between North, East, and West Africa generates $150 million in annual profit. The main target, young girls and women. Most survivors are, almost by definition, incredibly skilled; They’re resilient, resourceful, intelligent, creative, and flexible people. These are traits that make them powerful lawyers, insightful social workers, therapists, and compassionate teachers. It’s time we invest in survivors’ education in law enforcement, legal services, and mental health.

I’d like to see more Survivor Leaders heading up Task Forces. We have insight into human trafficking that others do not. It’s time we started listening to those who survived it. None of us should be silent a minute longer. When the public perspective changes, the right questions will be asked, we can begin to hold the true offenders accountable and demand for paid rape will decrease. Everyone has a voice. Everyone has a choice. Choose to speak up now and let’s bring an end to the crime of human trafficking together!