Operation

As a child, my family owned a game that would stress me out to no end. A man’s fleshy outline splayed on the top of a red box, littered by little holes lined with metal. Each hole was in the shape of the slightly smaller, plastic body part it contained. The object of the game was to extract as many of the plastic pieces as possible, using metal tweezers. If the tweezers were to connect with an edge, there would be a loud buzz and it would feel as though the player had been shocked. Hence, an immense amount of anxiety resulted from what was supposed to be an enjoyable past time.

An “operation” for us here is the actual extraction of families from bonded labour, with the hope of acquiring official release certificates, which then make the individuals and their families eligible for particular benefits from the government. In early December, I was able to participate in my first Operation. Handheld radio with earpiece and all!

[Note: this is NOT an action shot! We're not as slick as we'd like to think we are-it was taken purely to have a photo that could be approved!]

Interesting how, while a stretch, working on one of our “operations” is much like playing the game Operation: There was the nervousness of trying to remove the parts (Game: "Don't let me get buzzed! Don't let me get buzzed! ;" Reality: "Will everyone get out of the facility safely? Don't let the owner stop anyone!"); the waiting (Game: "Will they get the piece I plan to take??;" Reality: "Will they receive their release certificates??"); and the elation felt after a successful extraction (Game: "HA! Eat my dust, suckers!"-for the highly competitive 7-year-old; Reality: "HA! Eat my…" just kidding-it was more like "YES! Praise God!!!"). While the game should really only last an hour (if the nervousness truly takes hold), the reality was that it was almost a 23-hour work day, from the time I left my house to meet the team until the time I entered my apartment again the following day. The amazing part was that it didn't feel that long.

Okay, so really, they aren't even close to the same. Sorry. But, getting to spend the majority of my time with the families, fending off reporters (don't get me started-the freedom of the press here is revolting when it comes to human rights), and laminating the 19 (woohoo!!) official release certificates, when we'd hoped for at least 15, was enough to energize me throughout that long day. The highlight for me was the opportunity to bond with the families in a way that would not be possible in an afternoon of home visits. I found my own piece of heaven when a small child reached for me through her tired tears, and stopped crying as soon as she was in my arms (sigh).*

Despite work seeming to fly by for me, the day could not have felt longer for some of those rescued. The 2 patriarchs, of the 8 families released, and their wives had been bonded since their youth. Now, as much older men and women, to step into a new life must be terrifying. They remained stoic throughout the ordeal: silent, contemplative. What I wouldn't give to have been able to hear their thoughts! For them to trust us with the fate of their lives was a testament to how bad life in the mill must have been. As they waited for their official papers, they must have been wondering "what next?" They had no guarantee their homes would still be in their villages, that their neighbors would embrace them, that they would be able to find jobs…that is our role in Aftercare: to assist with the next steps. But these men and women were purely taking our word on faith, they had no way to know we would follow through with our end of the bargain.

The faith of these individuals is truly admirable. Their grandchildren, who joyfully played with us throughout that day, trusted us; but they have their entire lives ahead of them: their youth, their strength. For the elders in the group, they were taking a huge risk for the sake of the younger generations. I see their leap of faith as a sacrifice made so that their grandchildren could know more than the walls of that rice mill, could know what an education means, could know what it is to make decisions, and could hopefully see justice come to their abusers.

While there are moments when what we do here does not quite feel real, the reality is, we are playing a huge role in the lives of these oppressed individuals. We are encouraged to do our job well from day one, because people entrust their lives to us. Praise God that it is not solely up to us. That we are not extracting the pieces on our own: Praise God for the team- the entire staff, our families, and other incredible supporters back home. For those who keep us accountable, and remind us that our work, our decisions impact much more than what we see on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis: thanks for playing well!

*A. whispered, "We will be delousing you when you get home, by-the-way"- Luckily, so far, no lice to be seen! Phew! Even if I did have to deal with lice later, it would have been worth every minute...