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One of the
fascinating truths of life is that whatever we work at, also works at
us. It works on us and through us. It changes us even as we, as social
activists, may seek to alleviate the suffering we see around us.
When I interviewed
Carolee Corey and Hilarie Kavanagh, founders of the nonprofit Free A Child,
I was every bit as interested in their story as in the problem they so
valiantly fought to alleviate: the horror of children being sold as sex
slaves. Here we were in the affluent white community of Boulder, Colorado,
yet their hearts were obviously committed to children they would never
know or see, children who spoke a different language and were a different
color, children whose own parents had sold them and who lived half a world
away. Yes, Carolee Corey and Hilarie Kavanagh had each lived in Asia and
Carolee had a special affinity for Nepal, the country they were focusing
on now, but why couldn't they, like so many others of us, alleviate the
pain of compassion and the hounds of guilt by tossing a little money that
way and then fall back into the trance of personal life? Why did they
care so much?
I had walked
by their booth at the creek festival months earlier and taken some literature,
but it had taken me six weeks to be able to read it. Girls as young as
eight years old being ruthlessly exploited, kept in cages, beaten, used
in the most disgusting ways. In the words of Free A Child, "Betrayed
by those they trust, forcibly separated from their families and isolated
by a foreign language and culture, these imprisoned children live shattered
lives devoid of any trace of love." What could be more heartbreaking?
It is a picture we reflexively recoil from, a reality we don't want to
imagine.
The story
of the trafficking is almost too sad to tell. Each year between 7,000
and 10,000 Nepalese children between the ages of 8 and 16 are tricked,
bought, or kidnapped from their families to work as sex slaves in brothels
in India. Sixty to seventy percent of these become infected with HIV or
develop AIDS. A girl may be forced to surrender herself to up to 40 clients
a day, who will rip her vulnerable body and ravage her soul. If she is
lucky enough to escape alive and tries to return home, she will likely
be shunned by her family and community. He life is indeed shattered.
It is a
story that kept both Hilarie and Carolee awake at night. A story that
wouldn't let them rest. "Who will speak for the children?" Hilarie
kept asking. The children sold out by their families, the police, the
government, and the international community who essentially turn a blind
eye? Who will speak for the children who, by virtue of their sex, are
considered expendable? Who will speak for the children trapped in a foreign
land who cannot speak for themselves?
What do
you do with a question like that? How can you turn your back on it, once
it has gotten a hold of you? The only relief that Carolee and Hilarie
found was in stepping forward, in taking on the challenge of this incredible
grief and empowering themselves to do something to change the situation.
Once they did that, doors began to open. Opportunities presented themselves.
This is how it seems to go when we say yes to what life asks of us.
But saying
yes and skillfully addressing such a complex problem are two different
things. As Carolee had learned working in an international nonprofit organization,
many well-intentioned helping agencies do much unintended harm. Others
are ineffective. How could she and Hilarie help in a way that was truly
skillful? Love and compassion had compelled them to answer the call, but
could they really save the children?
They spent
two years researching, studying the tremendous intricacy of the problem.
This included seven months in Nepal, visiting the small villages and back
streets to learn first hand what they could do. They decided that the
best way they could help was to feed much-needed funding into an indigenous
organization whose wisdom and integrity felt the most solid to them. No
outsider, however caring and well-intentioned, will ever be as effective
or understand a problem like those within the indigenous culture who have
heeded the same call. As human beings and as women, Hilarie and Carolee
heard and responded to the cry of the child, but it is the Nepalese who
can best speak to other Nepalese about the problems that must be addressed
for parents to not be duped or persuaded into selling or abandoning their
children to this fate.
So they
came home, to the United States, to build an organization that could help
support General Welfare Prathistan (GWP), the active arm of intervention
that had earned their trust. They worked to build a program that could
raise money, money that was put into prevention programs to help save
other children from this awful plight. With yet more money they would
fund a "reintegration" center, to minister to the needs of girls
rescued from the brothels. It is worthy work.
Yet behind
every success is another story, a story of everyday struggle, of hope
rising and falling, and rising again. The story of how the soul is polished
by whatever we are struggling with. How we learn patience, trust, perseverance.
How we take on a commitment that changes our lives. Hilarie remembers
this process. She speaks about a time after they had started when she
realized the full weight of what they were taking on. She knew it would
ask much of her, many sacrifices and much hard work, and had to ask herself
if she could really do this. It was a commitment-a big commitment-almost
like getting married. It is a commitment she said yes to. Since then,
there have been many challenges, many times it would be easier to have
returned to her life as a photographer, traveling in Asia, but her commitment
to Free A Child required her to settle in one place and be available.
"These little children need help - and that's it, " she says.
"I can't turn away from that."
"I
know this issue won't get resolved in my lifetime, but the work needs
to be done. The results may come 150 years from now, but I do what I can,
knowing that every drop of effort will some day turn the tide." And
so she goes about quietly doing what she can, her commitment totally independent
of results. For this I admire her.
When asked
how she is able to hold such a huge problem, she says, "I imagine
one little girl sitting alone on the side of a bed, locked away in India,
which is not her home. Nobody is speaking for her, nobody is protecting
her, no one who cares about her even knows where she is. If I look at
the big picture, it's overwhelming, so I think of this one child. If I
can just help one little girl, then it is all worthwhile."
Although
Hilarie has voluntarily made this commitment, she also describes it as
completely choiceless. It is choiceless in that knowing what she knows,
she can do nothing else. She can not turn away, and either can Carolee.
And so it is that good work has them safely in its clutches where it can
also work on them.
When I last
spoke with Carolee, Free A Child had just been through a difficult period.
I find it fascinating how difficulties, when embraced, have a way of leading
to the breakthroughs that allow new energy to flow. What is being asked
is another level of surrender. Just as Carolee and Hilarie had needed
to let go of their ideas of what they could do for the Nepalese when they
were first investigating the problem and doing field work, now they are
being asked to let go of ideas of how their organization at home is run.
So often organizations use the energy of volunteers to achieve organizational
goals without letting the volunteers become true co-creators, a living
part of a vision that is continually re-forming itself. Instead, we create
a vision and latch onto it. We think we are single-handedly responsible
for making the picture come to life. This, of course, makes the gods laugh.
It struck
me that the challenges facing these women are the same lessons that face
us in so many areas of our lives and about which we have much conversation
on the spiritual path-learning that energy flows more freely when we get
our ideas out of the way, that we are at best conduits, that a greater
intelligence flows through us, that we need to stay true to what we are
called to do and not get seduced away from it by discouragement, distraction,
or even the temptation to get bigger than we are ready for. When we stay
right on target with our deepest inspiration, what we need comes to us,
in its own timing and own way. Our challenge is to learn to trust and
to find the right balance between effort and surrender, a challenge that
Carolee says may occupy her for the rest of her life.
I listened
attentively, knowing there were several stories here: the story of the
children and their suffering, the modeling of empowerment and intelligent
help, and the story of how our work works on us, bringing out the qualities
that complete and grace our lives. In this world with its tremendous suffering
and complex social problems, it's nice to know there's still grace in
the charity business.
If you would
like to be part of this grace, part of the response to the children's
cry for help, you can contact Free A Child at any of the following:
website: www.freeachild.org
email: freeachild@aol.com
phone: 1-800-690-3160
Published in Radical Grace, Spring 2002.
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