This blog post is about a visit to one of Sangam's community partners, which works with women of the red light district. It describes what I saw on this visit, how I felt about it at the time, how I feel about it now, and the work that the organisation is doing. And I've tried to do this as honestly as possible. If you think you may be shocked or upset by this, please feel free to stop reading now - I won't be offended. It does have a positive ending though.
During the recent seminar, we gave the participants opportunity to visit community partners who work in the area of HIV/AIDS. One of these partners was Kayakalp, and it was decided that we should try to organise a staff trip, as it's a bit different from the other organisations we usually work with, and many of us were interested in visiting but were unable to during the event. Today was the day of said staff trip.
Kayakalp was set up in 1993 by an amazing lady named Seema, who previously worked as a nurse with people suffering from leprosy. The Kayakalp leaflet states: "The organization works amongst brothel based female sex workers residing in Budhwar Peth at Pune... Kayakalpa also takes efforts in reaching Eunuchs and MSM in Pune. The main focus of Kayakalpa is prevention of HIV/AIDS by ensuring reduction of sexually transmitted infections/ disease and promotion of proper use and disposal of condoms by the sex workers and their clients". And this, essentially, is what they do, but they do more besides.
The Kayakalp office is on the street where a lot of the brothels are. They have a clinic and a creche. The creche hosts the children of sex workers to give them a safe environment, and when they are old enough, they are sent to the local government school. There is also a nighttime creche so the children can always be safe and away from the business of their working mothers.The clinic serves around 20 women a day, and provides condoms, medication for STIs, and regular health checks which include blood tests for HIV. As well as all this, they have outreach projects to educate about the issues of STIs and HIV, rescue children and young women and put them in a hostel so they can safely complete their education, and work closely with the sex workers of the local area - Seema explained to us that at first there was a lot of resistance to this, but now views are changing, which is a testament to the great work that she and her team do.
We spent a good hour or so at the Kayakalp centre; talking to Seema and finding out about the work they do, and also looking around the facilities. All was fairly typical for India - basic by our standards, but a lot better than many places. When we visited the creche for example, there were about 15 small (pre-school) children either sleeping or sitting quietly on reed mats on the floor; there was a sink in one corner and some shelves in another. That was it, though the walls were covered in some pretty impressive disney murals! Seema also showed us some video clips of police raids; many hours of girls being rounded up and put into a police truck. Apparently they will never reappear in this area - the 'madams' who run the brothels will usually not bail a sex worker out - but Seema said that sometimes the police can't be trusted and the girls may be sold to a new pimp in another area... this is the kind of thing one reads about in books, but hopes that it's either exaggerated or no longer current practise... apparently that's not the case, and I felt my understanding/ expectations/ grip on reality shifting as I realised this.
We also met a woman called Manisha, although when she'd first walked in, she'd given the impression that she was a boy! Dressed in trainers, jeans, and a sports shirt with short hair pushed tightly back from the face, we learnt that this was a deliberate attempt not to draw attention. She is 31, but I'd have guessed early 20s at the most. This is partly an India thing - people look really young here - but I think was partly to do with her deferential manner towards Seema, and her look. Manisha had been in the area but not worked in the sex industry, but on a couple of occasions, people tried to force her to do so. She ran away, and ended up at Kayakalp. She now works as an outreach assistant, and although she didn't speak any English, I found her manner and story very inspirational. She was clearly passionate about the work she was doing, and had a great rapport with the girls she took us to visit.
It became even clearer why she chose to give off a masculine appearance as she took us across the road and into a brothel. We climbed up three flights of stairs (we later learned that the higher the floor, the prettier/more expensive the women), and there were men - customers - everywhere. We'd been forewarned that we'd be stared at even more than usual, and that some men may even think that we were new workers, but I don't think any of us were prepared for how many men there would be. We later tried to do some maths based on the figure of 3,600 female sex workers in this area potentially servicing 20-30 clients a day, but gave up as the numbers were too scary. They were pretty much queueing up the steps, and many men were coming down as well; we think they'd been told to come back later because of our visit, although I guess some of them would have just finished their 'business' and be going back to normal life. Manisha was obviously recognised, but also was not stared at because she didn't look like a woman. We'd all gone in our most conservative Indian clothes to try and minimalise the intensity, but we were still obviously female - and white. I marched up the steps in silence looking at my feet, but couldn't help but be aware of all the men and that their faces were pointed towards me. At one point, I looked out of the window at the street below to see one man literally gawping, open-mouthed, at the spectacle we were creating.
When we arrived, Manisha and the other ladies from Kayakalp who were escorting us shooed a lot more of the men away, so that we could visit some of the sexworkers in their 'home'. I put this in quote marks because, although it technically is where they live, it's also where they work, and for me could never be what I'd call a home. Hopefully I'll explain this better as I go along. We split into 2 groups as there were a lot of us, and each group entered what I guess I could call an apartment. There was an open room with a TV and seating around the sides; we figured this is where the girls chill out when (if) they're not working, but it also acts like a waiting room for the customers - in exactly the same 'first come, first served' format that you find in doctors' surgeries here. We all sat in this room with the girls, and made some minor attempts at conversation. This is the first time I've really hated not having more than a few stock, useless phrases of Hindi. Emily knows more as she took Hindi lessons for a while, and although she couldn't say or ask a lot, the little she could say helped her to strike up an instant rapport with one of the girls.
I keep saying girls. We asked their ages and the responses were between 23-26. Again, they looked younger than this, but most Indian women do look young, although there are also the factors of 'maybe they were lying' and the makeup etc they were wearing to consider. Most of them were dressed fairly discreetly; in saris or punjabi suits. Although I did note that there was more cleavage on display than would usually be acceptable. One of the girls was in an outfit that was decidedly western and I'd usually see on a particular kind of girl on a night out clubbing in a big city at home.
One of the older women who we think was kind of like an overseer spoke a little broken English and was happy to attempt to chat, but for the most part, they were all laughing and joking with each other and with Manisha. This was great to see - the camraderie between them and that they were obviously fairly healthy and happy - and willing to interact with a representative of the NGO Kayakalp - but at the same time it was one of the most difficult things. They were all basically my age or a bit older; they should be out making something of themselves, having adventures, laughing and joking with their friends as we all do at Sangam; not selling their bodies to make money in a seedy underworld that will probably keep them forever. And secondly, it reemphasised my lack of language skills. I could easily have sat and chatted with these girls, and I wanted to find out about their life and really learn about it from their point of view. But I couldn't, because I couldn't speak their language. In some strange way it made me feel almost like we were doing a similar thing to all the gawking men; just sitting there looking at these strange creatures who were nothing like us and therefore mystical. It made me really uncomfortable, and this more than anything has strengthened my desire to/ conviction that one should really make an effort to learn the language of the country in which one is living. It's pretty impossible for me here and now because I'm always working and we work in English, but I hereby promise myself and people I may meet in the future that if I live in any country for longer than 3 months, I will make a real and genuine effort to learn useful language skills. I don't care if shopkeepers laugh at me for not being able to pronounce the names of sweets correctly. If I get it right, it's a bonus. If I don't, it's not the end of the world. But visiting and working with people in traditional or secluded communities means you need to build up a level of trust and understanding, and that's really difficult without language - and especially without even being able to show a willingness to try and learn the language and be a part of that community. This is what Christa said about her time in Zambia as well - she would go out and work in the fields and bring in the crops etc, to prove that she was genuinely interested in the good of the community she was working in. I feel like I've failed to do that, having come to India twice now and only managing to master phrases such as 'my name is' and 'how was your day?'.
The other thing that hit me was when we were allowed to see one of the girls' rooms. It had been explained to us that 12 girls lived/worked in this apartment, and that there were 8 rooms, a toilet, shower room and kitchen. Stupid me in my naivety didn't really realise what this meant. I switched back to student days and imagined only that this was where the girls lived. So in my head there were a mixture of single and double bedrooms, full of the girls' possessions. WRONG! As I got up and looked at the corridor, I realised my mistake. The rooms were like cubicles and had a bed and a shelf in them. Sayali described it as being like train compartments. The moment I realised that this was where the girls worked though, was when I saw a man peering out of one of the other 'rooms'. It was like a slap in the face to me. There were 8 spaces with beds in. This was where the girls 'entertained' their customers. If all 8 beds were in use, then the other girls presumably rested in the TV 'lounge' at the front of the apartment. They worked all the time and shared their rooms as and when needed. I felt stupid for not being able to rid my mind of my safe, western ideals when being given the information, and astounded at the real situation. It felt so incongruous for the laughing, smiling girls I'd just been sitting with to have such little space and privacy to themselves, and to realise exactly what their lives involved - constantly. I had no words.
It wasn't until I was in the rickshaw home that I understood the point of the visit. We took the VITs with us - Sayali, Aarti, and our new VIT, Priya, on her first day! I don't think any of them really knew what to make of it, and certainly some things really shocked them. I can't imagine how I'd have reacted if I'd seen this happening in my local area to girls not much older than me, as a teenager. But anyway. I was in a rickshaw with Net and Priya, and Priya asked us what I thought about the visit. Conscious of being a role model and having to make sure that she was feeling ok too, I pointed out that although it was disturbing and sad, it was good to know that the reason we were able to visit was because Kayakalp is there, doing very positive work. I'd all but forgotten all the good things we'd learnt about the progress Seema and her team have made; about the smiling faces of the children who were being looked after, the medical supplies, the history of Manisha, and the fact that Kayakalp recently won a prestigious award for their work. When I recounted this to Priya, I felt better. Obviously it's still horrific that this practice is happening - and often brutally, involving trafficing, police raids, bribes, rape etc. But, it is good that there are people who are starting to do something about it. These things are still happening the world over, but more and more, things are being done to help alleviate issues, and ultimately stop these practices. Again, I was reminded of the importance of WAGGGS' Stop the Violence campaign, and felt proud of what I've accomplished at Sangam in the name of this campaign so far, but also determined to do more. I don't know what yet, but I know that I'm nowhere near done with my involvement in this, and the visit to Kayakalp and the brothel has only strengthened my resolve.
The title of this post is Red Light. It represents the sex workers, it was a warning to you that the content of this post was indepth and serious, and it is also the signal that we need to give to traffickers, pimps, corrupt police, men who purchase sex, and everyone else who has a stake in the sex industry. It has to stop. And from that red light, comes my green signal. GO. Speak Out. Educate. Take Action. Advocate. I wrote in my personal evaluation recently that I felt I needed to create an advocacy plan for myself, having helped the last lot of participants to create theirs. It's all very well coming up with plans, but you also need the drive to carry them out. Every day here at Sangam brings challenges and new experiences, but every challenge inspires me further and each experience teaches me more about myself. I will go home and continue to do some of the amazing things I've begun to be involved with here. I am changing for the better, and I will make the most of each and every opportunity that comes my way both in my personal life and in being able to make a difference to the lives of others. I am infinitely lucky to live the life that I do, and I am not going to waste a second of it.
TTFN
During the recent seminar, we gave the participants opportunity to visit community partners who work in the area of HIV/AIDS. One of these partners was Kayakalp, and it was decided that we should try to organise a staff trip, as it's a bit different from the other organisations we usually work with, and many of us were interested in visiting but were unable to during the event. Today was the day of said staff trip.
Kayakalp was set up in 1993 by an amazing lady named Seema, who previously worked as a nurse with people suffering from leprosy. The Kayakalp leaflet states: "The organization works amongst brothel based female sex workers residing in Budhwar Peth at Pune... Kayakalpa also takes efforts in reaching Eunuchs and MSM in Pune. The main focus of Kayakalpa is prevention of HIV/AIDS by ensuring reduction of sexually transmitted infections/ disease and promotion of proper use and disposal of condoms by the sex workers and their clients". And this, essentially, is what they do, but they do more besides.
The Kayakalp office is on the street where a lot of the brothels are. They have a clinic and a creche. The creche hosts the children of sex workers to give them a safe environment, and when they are old enough, they are sent to the local government school. There is also a nighttime creche so the children can always be safe and away from the business of their working mothers.The clinic serves around 20 women a day, and provides condoms, medication for STIs, and regular health checks which include blood tests for HIV. As well as all this, they have outreach projects to educate about the issues of STIs and HIV, rescue children and young women and put them in a hostel so they can safely complete their education, and work closely with the sex workers of the local area - Seema explained to us that at first there was a lot of resistance to this, but now views are changing, which is a testament to the great work that she and her team do.
We spent a good hour or so at the Kayakalp centre; talking to Seema and finding out about the work they do, and also looking around the facilities. All was fairly typical for India - basic by our standards, but a lot better than many places. When we visited the creche for example, there were about 15 small (pre-school) children either sleeping or sitting quietly on reed mats on the floor; there was a sink in one corner and some shelves in another. That was it, though the walls were covered in some pretty impressive disney murals! Seema also showed us some video clips of police raids; many hours of girls being rounded up and put into a police truck. Apparently they will never reappear in this area - the 'madams' who run the brothels will usually not bail a sex worker out - but Seema said that sometimes the police can't be trusted and the girls may be sold to a new pimp in another area... this is the kind of thing one reads about in books, but hopes that it's either exaggerated or no longer current practise... apparently that's not the case, and I felt my understanding/ expectations/ grip on reality shifting as I realised this.
We also met a woman called Manisha, although when she'd first walked in, she'd given the impression that she was a boy! Dressed in trainers, jeans, and a sports shirt with short hair pushed tightly back from the face, we learnt that this was a deliberate attempt not to draw attention. She is 31, but I'd have guessed early 20s at the most. This is partly an India thing - people look really young here - but I think was partly to do with her deferential manner towards Seema, and her look. Manisha had been in the area but not worked in the sex industry, but on a couple of occasions, people tried to force her to do so. She ran away, and ended up at Kayakalp. She now works as an outreach assistant, and although she didn't speak any English, I found her manner and story very inspirational. She was clearly passionate about the work she was doing, and had a great rapport with the girls she took us to visit.
It became even clearer why she chose to give off a masculine appearance as she took us across the road and into a brothel. We climbed up three flights of stairs (we later learned that the higher the floor, the prettier/more expensive the women), and there were men - customers - everywhere. We'd been forewarned that we'd be stared at even more than usual, and that some men may even think that we were new workers, but I don't think any of us were prepared for how many men there would be. We later tried to do some maths based on the figure of 3,600 female sex workers in this area potentially servicing 20-30 clients a day, but gave up as the numbers were too scary. They were pretty much queueing up the steps, and many men were coming down as well; we think they'd been told to come back later because of our visit, although I guess some of them would have just finished their 'business' and be going back to normal life. Manisha was obviously recognised, but also was not stared at because she didn't look like a woman. We'd all gone in our most conservative Indian clothes to try and minimalise the intensity, but we were still obviously female - and white. I marched up the steps in silence looking at my feet, but couldn't help but be aware of all the men and that their faces were pointed towards me. At one point, I looked out of the window at the street below to see one man literally gawping, open-mouthed, at the spectacle we were creating.
When we arrived, Manisha and the other ladies from Kayakalp who were escorting us shooed a lot more of the men away, so that we could visit some of the sexworkers in their 'home'. I put this in quote marks because, although it technically is where they live, it's also where they work, and for me could never be what I'd call a home. Hopefully I'll explain this better as I go along. We split into 2 groups as there were a lot of us, and each group entered what I guess I could call an apartment. There was an open room with a TV and seating around the sides; we figured this is where the girls chill out when (if) they're not working, but it also acts like a waiting room for the customers - in exactly the same 'first come, first served' format that you find in doctors' surgeries here. We all sat in this room with the girls, and made some minor attempts at conversation. This is the first time I've really hated not having more than a few stock, useless phrases of Hindi. Emily knows more as she took Hindi lessons for a while, and although she couldn't say or ask a lot, the little she could say helped her to strike up an instant rapport with one of the girls.
I keep saying girls. We asked their ages and the responses were between 23-26. Again, they looked younger than this, but most Indian women do look young, although there are also the factors of 'maybe they were lying' and the makeup etc they were wearing to consider. Most of them were dressed fairly discreetly; in saris or punjabi suits. Although I did note that there was more cleavage on display than would usually be acceptable. One of the girls was in an outfit that was decidedly western and I'd usually see on a particular kind of girl on a night out clubbing in a big city at home.
One of the older women who we think was kind of like an overseer spoke a little broken English and was happy to attempt to chat, but for the most part, they were all laughing and joking with each other and with Manisha. This was great to see - the camraderie between them and that they were obviously fairly healthy and happy - and willing to interact with a representative of the NGO Kayakalp - but at the same time it was one of the most difficult things. They were all basically my age or a bit older; they should be out making something of themselves, having adventures, laughing and joking with their friends as we all do at Sangam; not selling their bodies to make money in a seedy underworld that will probably keep them forever. And secondly, it reemphasised my lack of language skills. I could easily have sat and chatted with these girls, and I wanted to find out about their life and really learn about it from their point of view. But I couldn't, because I couldn't speak their language. In some strange way it made me feel almost like we were doing a similar thing to all the gawking men; just sitting there looking at these strange creatures who were nothing like us and therefore mystical. It made me really uncomfortable, and this more than anything has strengthened my desire to/ conviction that one should really make an effort to learn the language of the country in which one is living. It's pretty impossible for me here and now because I'm always working and we work in English, but I hereby promise myself and people I may meet in the future that if I live in any country for longer than 3 months, I will make a real and genuine effort to learn useful language skills. I don't care if shopkeepers laugh at me for not being able to pronounce the names of sweets correctly. If I get it right, it's a bonus. If I don't, it's not the end of the world. But visiting and working with people in traditional or secluded communities means you need to build up a level of trust and understanding, and that's really difficult without language - and especially without even being able to show a willingness to try and learn the language and be a part of that community. This is what Christa said about her time in Zambia as well - she would go out and work in the fields and bring in the crops etc, to prove that she was genuinely interested in the good of the community she was working in. I feel like I've failed to do that, having come to India twice now and only managing to master phrases such as 'my name is' and 'how was your day?'.
The other thing that hit me was when we were allowed to see one of the girls' rooms. It had been explained to us that 12 girls lived/worked in this apartment, and that there were 8 rooms, a toilet, shower room and kitchen. Stupid me in my naivety didn't really realise what this meant. I switched back to student days and imagined only that this was where the girls lived. So in my head there were a mixture of single and double bedrooms, full of the girls' possessions. WRONG! As I got up and looked at the corridor, I realised my mistake. The rooms were like cubicles and had a bed and a shelf in them. Sayali described it as being like train compartments. The moment I realised that this was where the girls worked though, was when I saw a man peering out of one of the other 'rooms'. It was like a slap in the face to me. There were 8 spaces with beds in. This was where the girls 'entertained' their customers. If all 8 beds were in use, then the other girls presumably rested in the TV 'lounge' at the front of the apartment. They worked all the time and shared their rooms as and when needed. I felt stupid for not being able to rid my mind of my safe, western ideals when being given the information, and astounded at the real situation. It felt so incongruous for the laughing, smiling girls I'd just been sitting with to have such little space and privacy to themselves, and to realise exactly what their lives involved - constantly. I had no words.
It wasn't until I was in the rickshaw home that I understood the point of the visit. We took the VITs with us - Sayali, Aarti, and our new VIT, Priya, on her first day! I don't think any of them really knew what to make of it, and certainly some things really shocked them. I can't imagine how I'd have reacted if I'd seen this happening in my local area to girls not much older than me, as a teenager. But anyway. I was in a rickshaw with Net and Priya, and Priya asked us what I thought about the visit. Conscious of being a role model and having to make sure that she was feeling ok too, I pointed out that although it was disturbing and sad, it was good to know that the reason we were able to visit was because Kayakalp is there, doing very positive work. I'd all but forgotten all the good things we'd learnt about the progress Seema and her team have made; about the smiling faces of the children who were being looked after, the medical supplies, the history of Manisha, and the fact that Kayakalp recently won a prestigious award for their work. When I recounted this to Priya, I felt better. Obviously it's still horrific that this practice is happening - and often brutally, involving trafficing, police raids, bribes, rape etc. But, it is good that there are people who are starting to do something about it. These things are still happening the world over, but more and more, things are being done to help alleviate issues, and ultimately stop these practices. Again, I was reminded of the importance of WAGGGS' Stop the Violence campaign, and felt proud of what I've accomplished at Sangam in the name of this campaign so far, but also determined to do more. I don't know what yet, but I know that I'm nowhere near done with my involvement in this, and the visit to Kayakalp and the brothel has only strengthened my resolve.
The title of this post is Red Light. It represents the sex workers, it was a warning to you that the content of this post was indepth and serious, and it is also the signal that we need to give to traffickers, pimps, corrupt police, men who purchase sex, and everyone else who has a stake in the sex industry. It has to stop. And from that red light, comes my green signal. GO. Speak Out. Educate. Take Action. Advocate. I wrote in my personal evaluation recently that I felt I needed to create an advocacy plan for myself, having helped the last lot of participants to create theirs. It's all very well coming up with plans, but you also need the drive to carry them out. Every day here at Sangam brings challenges and new experiences, but every challenge inspires me further and each experience teaches me more about myself. I will go home and continue to do some of the amazing things I've begun to be involved with here. I am changing for the better, and I will make the most of each and every opportunity that comes my way both in my personal life and in being able to make a difference to the lives of others. I am infinitely lucky to live the life that I do, and I am not going to waste a second of it.
TTFN
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