She’s reaching up holding my face in her hands. “Don’t cry sister” she says, as she wipes away my tears with her fingers. I’m trying not to let any noise escape, but I’m sobbing. She looks at me, deep in the eyes, and then just hugs me. In this moment, she is the strength, the voice of inspiration, even though I am crying for her, for all of them. Some of other girls have noticed my state, and one by one they come over. They all wrap their arms around me as we hold each other. Some of the girls are crying too, we just hold each other as tears stream down my face...
Let me start from the beginning....
We were up early again this morning, a quick breakfast at 6:15 am, then back on the road. We cycled 26km to get to the shelter. It was the worst conditions yet. The roads were all washed out because of flooding, and were extremely difficult to navigate. The loose gravel mixed with the jagged rock left for a pretty bumpy and dangerous ride, let alone dusty. We had a few casualties today that ended in a bit of blood and bandages, but no one let the smile on their faces fade. When we finally made it to the shelter, we were all so dirty, our skin dark brown from the dustso that we look like the golden brown locals...(I know people in LA who would pay good money for that colour of tan!)
We pull in and Somaly Mam is there to meet us at the front gates, smiling and waving. Her energy just radiates. After reading her book ‘The Road to Lost Innocence’ I couldn’t imagine someone filled with such love after going through such atrocities, but here she was with some of the girls to greet us, just smiling and laughing. Cold water, ready, and arms out-stretched for us to fall into. We jumped off our bikes and run to her. Best hug of my life. I breathed in her love... she was apologizing profusely for smelling like the kitchen, which she was just in, cooking lunch for the 21 of us !
After we stuffed our faces with the wonderful food, the girls grabbed us and led us to an area under the main house. I was told to sit. I looked around. We were sitting under the dorm where the girls slept. It’s a house on stilts, so there is plenty of room and they have used every inch. They have made this place into their dining room, dance studio, study hall, play area, whatever they need it to be in that moment...it’s amazing.
We are all sitting looking at these beautiful faces, about 40 of them. They range from 3 to16 years old and 95% of them are rape or sex trafficking victims. It’s hard to imagine staring into a child’s eyes that is only 6, as they tell you, one by one, their horror stories. Seeing the pain return to their eyes, where only 5 minutes ago, we were just laughing and feeding each other mangos under a tree.
All the girls are sitting as Somaly starts to speak. She told us that she wanted us to feel like family here. This was our home. These were our sisters and daughters and that these children just needed love. That’s all they want, love and understanding. Somaly continues to speak to about the shelter. It is for girls 16 and under and filling up quickly. She needs to build another wing hopefully housing 250 more girls. My heart can do nothing else but jump at the challenge.
I will do whatever I can to make this happen. These girls should never be turned away because of lack of funding.
Somaly then asks if any of the girls would like to speak. A small hand shoots up from the back. She’s 6. She walks to the front on the group. Looking down and fidgeting with her tattered shirt, she starts to go to that place where I saw the Voices for Change girls go when speaking about their past. Slowly and almost inaudible, she tells us her story. She says that when she was younger her father raped her. Our minds are reeling. When she was younger? How young could she possibly be? She’s a baby. She is only 6...
It started when she was 3, her father told her that if she talked to anyone he would cut off her head. She didn’t tell anyone. So it continued.
We are all in tears, looking at this fragile little girl being so brave, telling us what the man who was supposed to protect her, did. She is crying now. Somaly scoops her up into her arms and holds her.
The next girl was 8; her father and uncles raped her. She said that she was thrown away...that she was never wanted and never loved. She is alone. The girl that spoke after her looked about 5, and was raped at 3 as well. And across from me was a girl who was 4 but looked about 2. She avoided eye contact with everyone and clung to Somaly’s side. They rescued her last year and she is still extremely traumatized.
I’m shaking and crying. Everywhere I look is another girl that has had her innocence taken... I want to just take all their pain into myself. I want to hold them. Tell them that they are loved.
We take a break because the group is so emotional. I have to step away. I walk as quickly as I can to the back of the room, trying to hold back my sobs. Inside there are silent screams for the girls’ pain and hatred for the people who have done this to them. Then all of a sudden I feel a hand on my back. I turn. This girl, maybe 14, turns me around and grabs my face. With each hand on either side she wipes away my tears saying, “Don’t cry sister.” Then, they all come.
They wrap their arms around me as we hold each other. Some of the girls are crying too, we just hold each other as tears stream down my face...
I am crying as I write this; her beauty, her strength, it has changed me forever.
On top of fundraising for the new building, I am working on getting 9 of them plane tickets from Phonm Penh to NY. There is a Gala in October that we would like them to come to and to speak about their experiences. People need to know. If anyone knows someone who works for an airline, or is interested in donating Airmiles, or anything towards it, I would really appreciate the help.
“We may choose to look the other way,
but we can never again say that we didn’t know...”
Love to all of you...
Serinda Swan
