Hundreds of thousands of children are being forced into slavery throughout the world. Children are being sold or trafficked for labor or sexual exploitation in Asia, Africa and Latin America. One country though is mentioned with a morbid regularity: Haiti, the poorest nation on the Western Hemisphere. It’s estimated that nearly one out of ten of Haiti’s children is held as a slave. However, a more painful scandal in Haiti is not that you can buy a child, it’s that you can get one for free.
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A normal day in Port au Prince, Haiti. When Alexandra wakes up, it’s almost 4 am. She goes through her early morning routine – cleanses herself, gets dressed and begins her work: pealing peanuts that her “host mother” will sell later during the day, to secure her minimal daily income. The host mother however, is still sleeping, along with the rest of the family. Only Alexandra is, just like every day, awake and up on her feet. Her duties do not allow her to sleep in. She is a Restavek – a slave girl.
There are about 300.000 children in Haiti, who are engaged as domestic slaves or ‘Restavek’. Restavek is a creole word derived from the French ‘rester avec’ with the original innocuous meaning ‘to remain with somebody’. Many of the children are orphans, others were sent by their families from the countryside into the city. It is upsetting to note that the economic distinction between host and natural family is negligible. Thus almost all Restavek go from bad to worse – from the countryside straight into the slums or from a life on the streets, with at least some tangible sense of liberty, to being deprived of even this last precious possession.
Alexandra, the girl, whose daily existence I spent ome week documenting, is 14 years old. For the past seven years she has been living with her host family. She moved in after losing both her parents to a sickness she cannot name anymore, as time and a very difficult life have erased this from her memory.On the 29th of March, 2011 I found myself in the slum of Wharf-Jeremie, where the inhabitants live under some of the most extreme conditions of want and deprivation one can imagine. The sheet metal shacks, which glowed eerily in the hot, dry sun, are home to an appalling display of poverty – now more so than ever, given the devastation of last years earthquake. On the streets I could see children running and playing in the most ragged of dressings and right in their midst was the girl I came to document – Alexandra.
This is not her first encounter with a journalist. Only as recent as last June, Mr Christoph Roeckerath reported on behalf of the ZDF (a German TV station) about the cruel fate of the Restavek. While prowling through Wharf-Jeremie, on the lookout for an especially moving case, he stumbles upon Alexandra. The resulting report describes, in a deeply impressive way, the shocking aspects of everyday life of a Restavek child. It reveals, for instance, the abuse Alexandra has to endure, as she is beaten with a aggressive regularity by her host family. Mr Roeckerath also accompanies the young girl to the social worker responsible for her quarter. During this meeting he hears the host mother justifying the abuse as being of educational nature and ‘not all that bad’.
Though, as poignant as the report is, it has done little in helping Alexandra. Mr Roeckerath knows this and this is how I came to know about Alexandra. He contacted me, asking for my help in keeping the promise he made to her and another girl Restavek while reporting last year – to help free them of their despotic host families. From half a world away, this promise turned out to be difficult for him to keep. I promised to do my best in aiding the girls.
A few weeks have passed since the arrangement was done. Now I’m finally looking into Alexandra’s eyes. We’re in the room she shares with her other five host sisters and the host mother. It’s approximately 10 square meters and has not more than two beds, only one of which has a mattress. Alexandra sleeps under one of the beds on a cardboard. Every once in a while, when one of her host siblings needs to relieve herself during the night and it happens that Alexandra misses the command to bring them the night bowl, she’ll feel the warm spray dripping down on her.
Alexandra hardly ever smiles. More often than not she wipes the sweat off her forehead because of her demanding work. She fetches seven buckets of water on a daily basis, carrying them on her head, never complaining, never stopping for a short break. When I ask her if she is still physically abused, she denies it shyly, not convincing me at all. But in order to not become an additional burden to the 14 year old child, I don’t press the issue further. Suddenly though, she fetches a belt and points at it and then at the scars scattered over her legs, arms and face – it’s clear to me that she wants me to know the abuse hasn’t stopped, but that she is too afraid to admit it out loud.
She also confides in me that her host mother sells her to the neighbor as well. As a house aid she claims and reveals that the elderly man provides her with sanitary tampons for her monthly cycle. But she doesn’t reveal if she is sexually abused by him or not.
Despite all, she is allowed to attend school, after finishing all her duties. However ‘this is mostly not the case’, says her teacher, full of worry. ‘She misses school too often’ I am told. As a result, Alexandra is not able to comply with her learning pensum, resulting in the 14 year old still being in third grade.Day in, day out, for the last seven years Alexandra lives with this unbearable fate. She is constantly exposed to the patronizing looks of people in her neighborhood. Still more dreadful, children of her same age show and feel no respect for her. People whisper, smirk, talk bad and finger-point at her. All the while, Alexandra does her work and acts like she does not notice the mockery and scorn that surrounds her. For what else can she do? Nobody has ever thought of helping her. She is the house worker, she is the slave. So she continues to work day by day.
Until March 29th, 2011. One thing struck me from the very beginning however: the complete and utter indifference that the host mother was displaying towards Alexandra. She never once asked about the reasons for my presence in their household, allowing me to take as many pictures of Alexandra as I wanted. I thus decided to bet everything on one card: I asked the host mother if she would let me find another family for the girl. Without the blink of an eye she agreed. I was surprised. I repeated the question three times to avoid any possible misunderstanding but the answer remained the same – an indifferent and cold nod from the host mother signifying that I could do as I pleased.
It is early morning when Alexandra and I leave the room in Wharf-Jeremie. Together with my American friend Kelly, who has been living in Haiti for the last five years, we drive the girl to the Restavek Freedom Foundation, which is an organization specializing in ending child slavery in Haïti. But they also have limited possibilities, so they can only take children of the worst scenario cases.As we are driving, we feel the pressure of not knowing if Alexandra will qualify for a place in the foundation or not.
But after about an hour into the conversation with the aid workers at the agency, it becomes clear that Alexandra can stay at the Restavek Foundation. Her physical condition is extremely deteriorated. As the board director of the Association Viv Timoun, I reach an accord with the Restavek Freedom Foundation that Viv Timoun would co-finance most of Alexandra’s costs and will also receive the aid of Christoph Roeckerath in helping this young girl reclaim her life.Alexandra will now be able to receive an education, psychological help, as well as new clothes for the first time in seven years. She now has a clean furnished room to sleep in and is surrounded by people that care for her and give her trust and human kindness.But even if in the beginning she is still confused and mistrusting of these sudden changes in her life, one big shift has already taken place in her existence: Alexandra is able to smile again.
The last picture was taken by Joan Conn of the Restavek Freedom Foundation
See more pictures on my website. Click here!
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