Bonded Labor slavery is one of the least known forms of human trafficking.
Young Men and Women all over the world are lured by human traffickers
posing as job employers who use attractive job adverts and opportunities
as a disguise to trick and trap desperate women and men in bonded labor.
The job advert was juicy. “Female nurses wanted,
attractive salary in dollars with benefits, no
experience required”. Words printed online screaming
“better life”. Opportunities bleeding from a job that
was too good to be true. Living a hard life in conflict
torn lands, struggling with the unemployment crisis,
frustration and debt problem. This became her hope
and redemption, her only escape from poverty.
The lines of happiness and excitement smeared
on her face as she traveled to a foreign country,
a tale of sweet fantasies revoked beyond the sea.
She had no idea what injustices awaited her.
Her passport and documents were taken from
her at the airport as she was quickly whisked
into a black van with six other girls her age.
She didn’t understand what was going on.
An unfamiliar country, strange location and harsh
rules. A new identity caressed, stripped of her rights;
She belongs to the master of the household now.
Working long hours without pay, a servant to every
need. A victim of cruelty, greed, abuse and twisted
desires. A slave to his carnal fort and a victim of
incessant mistreatments. She is injured physically
and morally. Her heart is crushed, body is violated
and her mind is bruised. She is constantly exploited,
but not discarded. Shrouded by hunger pains, fatigue
and distress. Her voice is in a tangled mess, a shrill cry
amidst confrontation. She is sad, scared and worried.
“Fate played a bad trick on me,” she cried. She quickly
believed a resonance of lies to go across the sea in search
of a better life. The lines of hate shattered her hope,
corroded her faith and invaded her soul. Injustices destroyed
her peace, suppressed her memories and silenced courage.
A victim of human rights violation, and oppression. Helpless and
living in fear, with no mode of communication or escape route.
Her family and friends have no idea where she’s living and working,
she didn’t have a chance to call or text them when she arrived in
another country. Her personal details are stashed at the bottom of
the archives at the embassy, the records only indicate her real names
and nationality but nothing about her work and where she is living.
It’s hard to look for someone who doesn’t want to be found.
That’s the perception. She’s at the mercy of her oppressors.
She’s constantly praying for someone to rescue her. Wishing for a miracle.
Hoping that someday the chains will break and she’ll reclaim her freedom
from the oppression of bonded labor slavery and return back to her country.
Clutching on to faith, holding onto hope.