Bodyguards

 Last weekend I went to visit the night shelter in Kidderpore red light community. On my way I had to walk through the brothel lanes, and I was crushed to see one of the teenage girls that used to stay at the night shelter lined up outside a brothel. She acknowledged me, but her usual smile and wave was absent. Instead she looked ashamed to be standing there, as if beaten by life. Holding back tears I told her to come talk to me if she would like to work at the Destiny center. Please keep her in your thoughts that she does take this first step to an alternative source of income. 

After saying goodbye, I proceeded on to the night shelter. Inside I heard my favorite sound in the world - children' laughter. I saw some of the children in TEN's school sponsorship program, who were home from the boarding school for the holidays. One girl was there who I haven't seen in nearly 6 months, after her father took her out of school and back to their native village. Apparently he sent her back to the center and she has again enrolled in school. I also saw one little boy who I've been worried about his nutrition. Previously, he was severely malnourished and refused to eat, claiming his stomach hurt. But now he's gained some weight and the staff member told me that he has a good appetite. I was so relieved to see these two children healthy and in school again. 

As it got darker, the older boys (ages 12-15) at the center told me that I should get going or I may have some problems walking to the bus stop. To get to the main road I have to walk through 3 long lanes of brothels, and the men in this area are violent and often drunk. One time I was even asked "how much?" So these boys offered to be my "bodyguard" and walk me to the bus stop. I wish I could have taken a picture of the scene, but that would have caused even more attention. Five of these boys surrounded me, one holding my hand on each side, two in front leading the way, and one behind me. As we walked, many of the men made comments that I thankfully didn't understand and these boys just kept their eyes straight ahead, occasionally pausing to tell the men to show some respect. We got to the bus stop and they waited with me until my bus came. They even instructed the driver where to drop me off and to not overcharge me. On my way home I thought about how different these boys are from the ones they were protecting me from. I hope their background, and their exposure to women's suffering, will make them advocates for change instead of falling into the cycle of abuse. But I do have hope for them, and they have hope for their community. One of the more mature boys had assured me, "Becky di, we'll find you a good husband who will treat you like a queen."