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Archive for the tag “child rape”

Amanthi’s story

Keith Swarnadhipathi shares a very compelling story on his blog:

Let me introduce you to a fourteen year old girl I met in Sri Lanka this summer. Her name is Amanthi, and we met not in a coffee shop or shopping mall but in a courtroom. She was there for her hearing, and I was there for a lack of a better idea. Although I didn’t have a camera with me I can tell you every physical detail about this girl, such was the impact she had on me.

She stood at the front of the court, her eye’s fixated on the floor never looking up, not even to answer any of the questions asked to her by the magistrate. She was so thin, that you would think she had recently recovered from a great illness, her skin was as pale as snow. Her hair was long and straight yet wild and uncontrollable, which she used to hide her face so people would not be able to see her. She wore a red top and an old skirt made of denim, her arms were joined at her back as if she were restrained, but there were no cuffs. She stood there, barefoot and alone, in front of the crowd of onlookers.

What was she doing there, what was her crime? As the hearing unfolded I discovered her reason for being there, she had escaped a children’s correctional facility. The judge asked her why she had been sent to the facility in the first place. She was silent, the question was asked again but she remained silent, her eyes still fixated on the floor.

After a few moments she spoke, in a sad tone of voice, she said she couldn’t answer that question in front of the entire court room. The judge, who by the way is my aunt, called her into chambers to speak to her privately, and asked me to join them as well.

We were now alone, just the three of us. Amanthi looked at me, and for the first time I saw her eyes. They were red from the tears she had been fighting back. Her eyes looked at me as if to ask why was I there, and if I could help her. My aunt looked at her and told her who I was, and that she could talk freely in front of me. It was then that I heard the saddest and most shocking story of my life.

Amanthi told us of how she had been raped by her grandfather when she was thirteen, and how her parents had disowned her because of it and abandoned her at a police station. While at the police station an officer who did not know what to do with the girl, had her sent to the local magistrate, to decide what should become of her. That magistrate decided, as a temporary measure, to have her sent to the correctional facility until something more permanent could be done for her.

A year passed, and she remained in the correctional facility, her plight was ignored by everyone who could have helped her. She spoke to us at length regarding the conditions in the facility, and how poorly treated she was by the staff and of the beatings she had endured from the other girls in the facility.

As she told her story my eyes widened and I looked at my aunt with sheer confusion printed all over my face. I thought to myself how could this happen, this girl has been treated as though she was a criminal when in fact she was the victim of a heinous crime that stole her innocence.

After half an hour Amanthi had finished her story, and now she began to beg to my Aunt not to send her back. Then she turned to me, and stared at me sobbing uncontrollably. I realized she wanted me to say something, to try to help her, but what could I say, I was not a lawyer or a social worker, but in my heart I realized I had to say something. So I told my aunt the only thing I could say, “You can’t send her back.” Yet, she had no choice, she couldn’t just remove her from the facility without finding a place to send her. As I discovered an orphanage was out of the question, because they were full up with legitimate orphans. So, there was no choice but to send her back for now.

A court officer was called into the room to escort her back to the courtroom where the hearing would continue. But, Amanthi wouldn’t leave, she refused to move and had to be dragged out of the chamber by the officer. She didn’t fight for a moment, she just cried and fell to the floor.

As her body was dragged passed me I remember thinking to myself, “Grab her, don’t let this madness continue, get her out of there.”  Then my brain kicked in and asked me what would you do once you got her out of there, who would look after her, where would she go? These were questions to which I had no answers so I watched as this poor girl was pulled out of the chamber, and I didn’t even move a muscle.

After she was dragged out of the chambers I sat down and told my aunt that I just had to do something for her. My conscience wouldn’t let me just walk away from what I had just seen and heard. We talked for a while and eventually came up with an idea: To help her overcome the trauma of her experience I would pay for her to undergo counseling sessions. I would do this by funneling money through my aunt who would make sure she received the service. As such to this day I have been sending $125 a month to try to help Amanthi overcome the demons that have taken over her life.

However, last night I  received the most disturbing of news. Amanthi has again escaped the facility and has yet to be found. She escaped four days ago and according to what I have been told there is little chance of finding her now. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad that she has escaped that god-awful place. I hope that she finds a better life but I also fear for her survival out there in the world, on her own.

I do know how I feel about her story though. I feel ashamed of the society that did this to her. How could we as a people abandon a young girl the way we did, didn’t she deserve more? I feel ashamed of myself for not doing more, in hindsight I see I just did the bare minimum, so I could feel better about myself. I should have done a lot more and I will live with that for the rest of my life.

I feel sorry for the many children who have similar stories to Amanthi’s. On average 25% of cases before Sri Lankan courts deal with abuse of children, yet very few of them end with a succesful prosecution. This number could be even greater when we take into account those that do not even go to court out of fear. Today in Sri Lanka four girls under the age of sixteen are raped everyday. That number is also increasing constantly as more children are raped each successive year. Just for a moment click this link and see how bad it truly is.

Yet, how can we stop this? How should we take Amanthi’s story to heart, we being those fortunate enough to have a better life, to attend university, to have personal security. I believe it is our responsibility to create a new world society where injustices like this are not overlooked and their victims are not forgotten. By sharing this message with you, I hope to take a step to doing just that, and by being informed about it, you take a step as well in the right direction.

I think the following words by Robert Kennedy show just what we can learn from Amanthi’s story:

“For the fortunate among us, there is the temptation to follow the easy and familiar paths of personal ambition and financial success so grandly spread before those who enjoy the privilege of education. But that is not the road history has marked out for us. All of us will ultimately be judged, and as the years pass we will surely judge ourselves on the effort we have contributed to building a new world society and the extent to which our ideals and goals have shaped that event.”

You can help with problems like this through groups like International Justice Mission, Love 146 and Shared Hope Intl.

Escaping India’s child rape industry

Galen C. Dalrymple writes at about a trip to Bangalore, India, to research the sex trafficking problem:

… When Mary was just 5 years of age, she would be awakened by her parents during the wee small hours of the morning darkness and by 4 a.m. she was out trying her best to catch rats.  She wasn’t being sent to catch and kill them because they were pests, but because they represented a potential source of income for her parents who would sell the meat from the rats she caught for others to eat.  The most notorious of those who would eat rats are called “mushars” or “rat eaters.”  They represent the lowest of the low, the bottom rung of Dalits [the lowest, “untouchable” level of Hinduism’s caste system].

There was just one problem.  Mary wasn’t very good at catching rats, no matter how hard she tried.  She just couldn’t catch enough rats to help sustain the family.  So her parents sold her as a prostitute…at 5 years of age.  They needed the money.  Mary, after all, was just a Dalit girl.

For over a decade, Mary was a part of the sex trafficking of young girls (especially prevalent with Dalit girls) in India. … Finally, after those interminably long years, Mary was rescued by Operation Mobilization/India and the Dalit Freedom Network. She was taken into a safe, loving place where she would be fed, clothed, and given medical treatment for her diseases.  She was sent to the Good Shepherd School, which teaches not from a Hindu worldview, but from a Christian worldview, where she learned that she had immeasurable worth because she was made in the very image of God, that God loves and cherishes her.  She learned English and a trade. Now, at 18 years of age, she was ready again to go out into the world, not to catch rats or be a sexual object for child rapists, but to earn a respectable living as a contributing member of society.

At the graduation ceremony we attended that night, Mary was luminous.  After the ceremony was over, she moved through the crowd to find her parents – the ones who had sold her into sexual slavery years earlier.

Read the rest of this very compelling story by clicking here.

Bolivia does justice for 5-year-old sexual assault victim

The International Justice Mission reports:

LA PAZ, BOLIVIA – 5-year-old Yulisa* woke up from a horrific nightmare. She was in a dark hole. She was in pain. Hours earlier, her uncle had grabbed her from her room and sexually assaulted her. Then he tried to strangle her and threw her in the hole, leaving her for dead. But Yulisa was alive.

A neighbor found Yulisa at the bottom of the hole, a deep well. He brought a ladder and climbed in to rescue her, carrying her home in his arms to her parents. They were franticly searching for their little girl. Now that they had found her, one nightmare ended – and a new one began, as their daughter told them what had happened to her.

Within three days, Yulisa’s mother was at IJM’s door, desperate for help. Yulisa still had bruises on her small neck, spots in the shape of a handprint. The family was desperate for someone to help their daughter. They wanted justice, but they knew they could never afford a lawyer with the father’s meager earnings as a day laborer. IJM Bolivia eagerly accepted the case.

The case began with a solid start: the police had arrested Yulisa’s uncle the same morning of the abuse, based on her mother’s call. IJM started building a legal case, and within five months – rapid for Bolivia – the formal charges had been submitted before the court.

It was time for Yulisa herself to tell what had happened to her. Yulisa answered questions about the horrific abuse from the safety of the Gesell Chamber, a colorful room behind a one-way glass mirror where she would not have to face her uncle. Earlier, Yulisa was asked to point out her uncle in a line-up, behind a glass wall. The small girl had to stand on a chair to see out. When she saw him, she froze, barely able to speak. But in the Gesell Chamber, away from her uncle’s presence and the pressure of a courtroom, she answered questions from a psychologist. The testimony was recorded as evidence.

The case moved into the formal trial stage, but the obstacles began.

Read the full story here.

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