Travel Journal: World Vision staff member examines trafficking prevention in Eastern Europe

Albania, day 1: Here we go again!

Albania, day 2: Is it beautiful here?

Standing on the ledge of a rocky coast of the southwestern Albanian port of Vlore, looking at the crystal clear water of the Adriatic Sea, it’s hard to imagine anyone being in crisis in this place. You want to believe that it’s simply beautiful. But if you look at the vulnerability and poverty when we turn back toward land, there’s little beauty here.

The one ray of “hope” one person here told me about had to do with the fact that girls from this area are no longer kidnapped outright into slavery, like they were in the 1990s. Now they are tricked by false promises of marriage or employment, that often turn out to be one-way paths to an early grave, or at least (if they survive) to a life lived in undeserved shame. That doesn’t really strike me as hopeful ... or as beautiful.

Is there beauty here? I want to think so. But standing in a field, watching a father’s eyes drop in shame at the very mention of his daughter who survived international sex trafficking, I find no beauty. Stories of abuse, of rape, and of the stony and chilled silence of a family’s denial, collide with this bucolic surrounding to set a marred and devastating contrast. My eyes gloss over. I grow numb. I only see the bad. It is in these moments where you learn all over again the importance of prayer.

Albania, day 3: “But we’ve always been in crisis”

Percy’s our child protection and anti-trafficking specialist in Vlore. I asked her if the global economic crisis had increased the vulnerability for local children and their families. Her response was at once both a “whoa” and a “duh” moment for me.

If you’ve always been in crisis, what qualifies as a “crisis”? Sure, it’s been pretty rough in the United States and elsewhere. World Vision and other organizations have warned that the economic crisis will place even more children at risk for exploitation, as families and communities become more desperate. Well, what if you’ve been desperate for decades, and even generations? If you’re always in a “crisis,” if you’re always vulnerable, are the mistakes and laments of bigger economies really going to have an effect on you? It’s a good question to ponder as we move on to our next stop: A visit with the Peer Educators.

Up the hill we go. Half-paved roads give way to gravel and massive potholes that could snap an axle if you’re not careful. Thousands of bumps and a few road-sick moments later, we pull into a concrete schoolyard filled with elementary school students horsing around after school. Inside, we find desks pushed up against a wall, chairs placed in a semi-circle, and about a dozen kids ranging from 9 to 14 years of age.

These are the Peer Educators — student leaders from vulnerable communities who educate other children on the dangers of child trafficking and exploitation and their rights as children. They are here to discuss the celebration they are planning for the 20th anniversary of the U.N. Convention on the Rights of the Child (November 20). Essentially, they are celebrating their right to not be exploited. It’s a special day.

Albania, day 4: The role of the United States

Today I split my time between World Vision’s national office and multiple coffee shops and cafes, all the while talking with our staff who are involved in child protection, communications, and the advocacy efforts integrated into those areas. They talked. I asked questions. I talked and they asked questions. Then we drank coffee and started the process over again. One thing became very clear throughout the day (besides the route to the nearest bathroom): Without a government to support the work you are doing, it makes life hard.

Right now in Albania (and this is the case throughout the world and even sometimes in the United States), nonprofit organizations fill the role of the state when it comes to social services. While there are some government-run shelters for trafficking survivors, most services are provided from nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) like World Vision. This got me thinking about the role of the United States.

Often times in countries around the world, U.S “advice” or pressure is ignored or rebuffed. However, when it comes to the Albanian government, they listen when the U.S. government advises them on setting up and implementing the proper systems for protecting and reintegrating trafficking survivors and street children.

Albania, day 5, part 1: I’m on paper; therefore, I exist

Romeo looks into the policeman’s eyes. He tells them his name. They go to look him up. They find no record of him. They don’t know where he was born, who his parents are, or how old he is. They ask each other, “Who is this kid?”

Remember when you got your driver’s license? What about when your parents registered for school? You (or your parents) had to show your birth certificate. A simple piece of paper is literally the proof that you were born. What if you never received it? What if your government didn’t know you exist? How would anyone know who you are?

Child registration is something we take for granted. You’re born, your parents fill out a certificate that the hospital gives them, a person stamps it, they mail a copy to the government, and, just like that — in the eyes of the government — you exist. But every day here in Albania and around the world, children are born and yet, on paper and according to their government, they do not exist. In Albania, if (and it’s a big if) you are born in a hospital, you get a paper saying the date and time of birth. However, you have to go to another government ministry to get the actual birth certificate. Since it’s an extra trip that often entails a bribe to get the actual piece of paper, most parents don’t go through with it.

Does everyone have their papers?

What does this mean? Well, for Romeo, it meant that when he first went to register for school, he had no proof of who he was. Without school, he ended up in the streets and soon found himself part of a forced begging ring, made to collect a certain amount of money per day or risk beatings from the older boys on the street. When he was arrested, there was no way to prove who he was. Once he got to a shelter, there was no way to identify him other than his name. His plight is the plight of millions around the world.

If authorities don’t know you exist, do they miss you when you are forced into slavery? How can anyone protect you if they don’t even know you were born?

Albania, day 5, part 2: Laugh and laugh and fall apart

If there’s one thing trips like this prove time and again, it’s that kids will be kids. Today, I saw kids in dire circumstances making the most of the opportunities given to them. I spent some time in a community center that World Vision runs in a neighborhood mostly inhabited by Roma. (You may know them by the degrading “gypsy” label.) Roma emigrated from India to this area (and all over Europe) centuries ago, and yet they are still considered outsiders. As a result, they often live on the outskirts of cities like Tirana in dilapidated shanty towns or in the streets. Despite the harsh realities for these children, the younger generations are taking strides to overcome the adversity placed in their way. And they always make sure to make room for having some fun.

When we arrived at the community center, Heather and I interrupted a contest judging the best picture drawn during a recent competition. As we entered, all activity stopped and the energy level skyrocketed. What’s left to do with that energy but dance, of course! I gave traditional Albanian folk dancing my best shot, but in the end I was big pile of dancing FAIL. But the kids got a kick out of it.

Walking around the community after the kids left the center, we passed shack after shack where four to five Roma families will live together. Trash-lined streets create an enshrouding smell of rot. Yet, in all this, we saw children playing, laughing, and carrying on like kids should. It was an uplifting reminder of the promise each child brings with them as they try to overcome the desperate poverty and vulnerability that grips their lives.

Albania, day 5, part 3: Forced beggars

Meet Flori. He’s originally from this Roma community on the outskirts of Tirana and worked his way through school with the encouragement of his parents and caring teachers. He is a walking testament to the fact that given the opportunity (and parents who want to see you succeed), the kids we work with — particularly in Roma communities — can make it.

Flori is now one of World Vision’s community liaisons who run the center for kids in this Roma community. He also spends his days walking the streets tracking down kids who are skipping school, meeting the families of vulnerable children, and trying to find kids who are forced to beg. He’s got more energy than he knows what to do with, and he definitely needs it, as working in this community can take a lot out of you.

Flori grew up in this area, and as a result, he knows all the challenges these kids can face. Walking through the community, we saw a mother beating her son. We saw a boy who should have been in school shoveling gravel for mixing cement with his young father. And we saw young children skipping school so they could collect enough scrap metal to maybe get 25 cents — money that will most likely go to the local internet café.

Walking through a park in downtown Tirana after dark, we passed a group of about seven Roma kids, none of them older than 10. Two women walked behind the kids, almost herding them down the empty sidewalk. One of the women looked to be a grandmother and held a baby in her arms. “I’ve seen that woman every few days for ten years,” Flori said after the group walked by. “That baby never seems to grow up.” I asked why that was the case. “Because she keeps renting newborns from other women in the community,” he said. “She gets a lot more money with a baby in her arms.”

Indeed, it turns out that this kindly grandmotherly woman runs a forced begging ring. The kids are all out of school and are forced to bring in about $50 a day in begging revenue. If they don’t, the children receive merciless beatings at the hands of the “grandmother” and her adult son. This is one of the most common forms of child trafficking in this region.

Albania, day 6, part 1: The horsey in us

So three horses are walking down a busy street. No, seriously. I know, It sounds like the beginning of a corny joke. But this sight in the town of Skodra capped off a crazy day of travelling across northern Albania.

The horses looked like they just wanted to cross the street. Once they got to the middle of the road, however, they decided that they had the same right to this stretch of asphalt as the other vehicles. So they each took a lane and headed down the street.

Since Albanian drivers don’t stop for anything, the horses’ decision caused a comical and hair-raising scene of swerving cars, honking horns, and hands waving various fingers in the air. By not following the established protocol, it was hard to find a unified way of keeping the cars safe. Because I had a lot of time to ponder this on the long (and bumpy) ride back to the capital, I found symbolism in horses’ act of anarchy.

I actually see this as a fitting metaphor for advocacy. The Bible calls us to seek justice for the poor and the oppressed. What’s more, in 1 Samuel 14, Saul’s son, Jonathan, takes on the whole Philistine army and speaks the words, “Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few.” Jonathan and the Israelites had a common goal — to defeat the approaching evil the Philistine army represented.

In the same vein, we as citizens must be united if we are to shine a spotlight on the issues that we want our elected officials to focus on. Government can often look chaotic. There are literally thousands of proposed laws before Congress. With so many issues vying for attention, Congress can look like an Albanian road with cars whizzing by — lots of people going their own way, not expecting things to change.

However, when people stand up and speak out on issues like child exploitation and slavery, people suddenly take notice. It’s not what you would normally expect. Congressional offices expect people to call in and yell about this issue or that issue. When people call in and e-mail their congressional offices and advocate on the issue of slavery, it’s not something congressional offices expect. They sit up and take notice. It’s like three horses choosing to walk in that busy road. Those Albanian drivers where not expecting to see those horses in the road, but when they did, they took notice. Maybe we should have a bit more horsey in us.

Albania, day 6, part 2: Children celebrating children

You may have never heard of the Convention of the Rights of the Child (CRC). So you probably didn’t know that it just turned 20 years old and was the reason for me being in northern Albania today.

For most Americans, the rights of children (and adults) are already codified in U.S. law. Children have the right to education; the right to not be exploited; the right to play; the right to not be beaten or abused. However, in other countries around the world, cultural norms have often dictated that children be treated as second-class citizens and overtook any notion that the well-being of children be a consideration when planning for the future success of any country. But in 1989, a radical and transforming movement swept through the UN and around the world, and now the CRC stands as both a symbolic gesture and a call to action to protect the basic rights of children.

So today, school children in northern Albanaia are celebrating their rights in various rallies and performances. The concept of child rights means so much to these young people.

Meet Daphina. She’s 15 years old and won an essay contest that allowed her to present her words to her country on national TV. It got a little misty as she read with poise, strength, and determination.

“I’ll be a person of dignity, full of force and energy, if you all respect me when I’m young,” she said. “If you don’t respect me,” she continued, “if you don’t acknowledge me, it’s just like a rose that wants to flower nicely and is full of aroma, but you have not planted it accurately and have forgotten to water it and it dies.”

Daphina gathered herself for the big finale. “I‘m a child that wants to live! I want to live even though I haven’t figured out the philosophy of life. I want to live — and not simply exist!”

This sentiment echoed through various celebrations and performances throughout the day, with school children from all over the north coming together to celebrate and educate.