Friday, August 13, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Society In Coma
Society is in a coma when it comes to trafficking.
TRAFFICKING AND FORCED PROSTITUTION are NOT OK AND IT'S UP TO US TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!
Girls are out there, screaming day and night. For some girls, no one hears or comes to help them. After a while, they stop screaming. They learn that less resistance results in fewer black eyes and fewer broken bones. They smile on the street corner and beckon men as if having sex with strangers is their own idea. Meanwhile, a pimp lurks in the background. Afterwards, he collects the money and she collects the STD's.
The idea for the book and the blog is to open up discussions on the subject, so that our collective input can be used to stop the most humiliating form of slavery. After working for 10 years in this field, I've concluded that here is no political will to really put an end to it. So I decided to find ordinary people to do extraordinary things (people like you and me) and try to help the girls.
Thanks for joining me this week. Following is an article from Reader's Digest that describes the situation and the area in which I live and work. Below that, you'll find a continuance of the excerpt from Unstoppable Redeemer.
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Happy reading!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Excerpt From Chapter I of Unstoppable Redeemer
My stomach tightened and my breath quickened. The conversation had taken me back to what I’d spent years trying to forget. Ignoring it proved impossible. I knew I needed to get moving to pull some things together if I were to be at the police station in an hour. Instead, I sat and rubbed my temples.
****
It was 1978. I was 17. Huge flakes of snow settled on our shoulders as my father and I showed up at the Romanian Embassy. He was Serbian. For him to leave would have been possible, but for my mother and I things were different. Travel outside the country was either extremely limited or prohibited, depending on who you were and who you knew.
My father and I planned to pretend he and I were going on a holiday so I could meet his parents. We would send for my mother once we gained political asylum. As we approached the embassy gates, the guards poked at each other with their elbows and nodded in my direction.
“Hey, you with the blue scarf. Come over here.” As I moved forward, my father stepped right in behind me. “No, you wait over there.” The guard pointed to my father and then indicated a place a few paces away.
The tall one approached me. He stood very close, his face in my face. “Turn around.” When I hesitated, he pushed at my shoulder with the butt of his gun. “I said turn!”
I did as I was told. He stepped back slightly.
“Do you want to leave here because you’ve screwed all the men in Romania? Now you want foreign men to satisfy you?” A hard chiseled face outlined his squinted eyes and jutted chin. He leaned way in toward me. I stepped back to avoid him. He moved in closer.
“I know girls like you. They just can’t get enough... And your father over there, he goes along with it. He goes along with it because he’s been with all the women in Romania. You two make quite the pair.”
I started to protest. He held his hand up in front of my face. “I’ll do the talking here. You don’t need to say a word.”
“Come over here guys. All of you.” At this, five other guards came to his side. Their eyes were slightly glazed over, like wild animals ready to bite into fresh meat. A couple of them breathed so hard they had to catch their breaths.
“We’re going to pay you and your mother a visit. If the daughter is this good looking, the mother must be a real piece. She’ll be stretched out enough from birthing you to accommodate our huge Romanian manhood. Soon, you will be too...”
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