By Tess Rivers
INDIA – Bonnie Swenson* is a 32-year-old mother from Inola, Okla., a small town of just over 1,500 near Tulsa. Pregnant with her third child, the blonde, petite woman stands a little over 5-feet tall — in stark contrast to the larger, dark-skinned women with whom she works.
Bonnie’s “office” is the red-light district of northeast India. Brothels, housed behind a concrete wall along the city’s four-lane highway, are tucked into a web of intricate passageways and dark alleys. Pimps and their prostitutes stand on bridges crossing the open sewer connecting this “other world” to life on the outside. They are suspicious of everyone — especially those who seem out of place.
When Bonnie walks into the brothels seeking to share the love of Jesus with the city’s prostitutes, people notice.
“It’s very difficult because I’m a foreigner … you are questioned by men and women,” she said, noting that local officials often hear about her visits.
The concrete wall is but one barrier that separates the 900 women and 150 children living in this part of India from the outside world. Human rights advocates estimate that as many as 80 percent are human trafficking victims whose captors subject them to torture, rape and starvation to break their will. Few, if any, are here by choice.
“There are women all over this country in situations like this,” Bonnie said, her voice rising with emotion. “I’m just doing my dishes, taking care of my sweet little kids, and women are being caged, drugged … God said, ‘YOU have to care.’”
A modern-day form of slavery, human trafficking is the illegal trade of people —especially women and children — for the purposes of commercial sexual exploitation or forced labor.
REACHING THE FORGOTTEN
After watching the movie, Taken, which focuses on the abduction and trafficking of two young women, Bonnie became passionate about helping India’s victims. Bonnie couldn’t sleep after watching the film, knowing that the city she lives in is an entry point for traffickers from Nepal, Bangladesh and China.
Bonnie began praying in 2010 about the role she could play in bringing an end to the fast-growing criminal industry in the world — one the U.S. State Department identifies as second only to the illegal arms trade. Undeterred by the enormity of the problem, Bonnie asked God, “How do I do it?”
“I DON’T HAVE A NAME”
One of the first people she asked for help was an Indian woman named Waheeda Kakkar.* Kakkar runs a hostel for girls whose mothers live in the brothels. Though Bonnie simply wanted information, Kakkar discouraged her from getting involved.
“Waheeda told me if I wanted to go with her into the brothels, she would say ‘no,’” Bonnie recalled. “She said, ‘I’ve worked with plenty of Americans. Americans get excited about many things in the beginning, but a few months go by and they don’t care about it at all.’”
Through patience, prayer and diligence, Bonnie eventually convinced Kakkar that she understood the long-term nature of the ministry. But she soon discovered that gaining access and establishing trust was going to be tough in the brothels.
“You see the women’s faces. Their faces are hard,” Bonnie said. “They don’t smile a whole lot. I asked a woman her name and she said, ‘I don’t have a name.’”
DIFFICULTIES AND DANGERS
Bonnie continued to pursue several avenues to build relationships with the women inside. Toward the end of 2010, she and local partners offered a medical clinic inside the brothels in cooperation with a local AIDS organization. More recently, a team of American volunteers offered basic medical care to women and children in the red-light district.
But trying to rescue victims from this lifestyle can be risky.
Because of prostitution’s lucrative commercial value — the United Nations values the human trafficking industry at $32 billion per year — traffickers and pimps do not look kindly on those who encourage their “product” to leave the business. In many countries, links to organized crime and official corruption result in threats to the physical safety of activists.
If Bonnie, who visits the brothels about every other week, is afraid she doesn’t show it. She shrugs off questions about the danger of her work with a smirk and a twist of her head.
“I’ve never felt in danger,” she said. “I’m always with my local partners. I never feel threatened … but if there happened to be some danger, would I still keep going? I guess so. If God called me to do it, I would find a way.”
SHE CAN’T LOOK AWAY
Danger or not, Bonnie’s husband, Evert,* recognizes that nothing will deter his wife from this work.
“That’s Bonnie,” he said with a smile. “If there’s a brick wall that needs to be knocked down, she will run right at it. When she saw the enormity of what’s going on with prostitution here, she just couldn’t look away.”
Though Bonnie admits to uncertainties, her grief for these women and her desire to be obedient to God’s call compel her to move forward.
“We’ve shed plenty of tears over this,” she said. “But I know that God is opening up these doors — that slowly it’s going to happen. We just have to keep praying.”
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*Names changed
Tess Rivers is an IMB writer based in Southeast Asia. For more stories about redemption and God’s work among the peoples of Asia, go to www.asiastories.com.