Lament for Today

You are with me God. Are you for me? Are you for them?

I wrenched with sadness that a 19 year old girl will allow herself to be treated like crap by the man who lives off her—he hates her for what she does and yet he makes her do it. She has no reason to be kind—I think I would want to tell the world to go to hell for treating me this way—for allowing this injustice—this oppression for blatantly pressing my face into the dirt.

Do you stand far off God or are you here? Are you with her? Will you save her?

I am angry that someone who should know better—they all should know better—they are men—they are adults—they have mothers, sisters and daughters—will satiate their lust with the body of 14 year old girl. They will call her a whore and will not acknowledge her on the street but they will violate her body—her temple. They make her body a market when it should be sacred. I wanted men to be better, to know better, to see what I see when I go to the gach…beautiful, tender, broken woman who need love and empowerment not to be used…

God will you allow this continue? Are you here? Will you be the Emmanuel of Sonagacchi? Be here God—be here with the women…be here with the men.

I am broken and destroyed that I can walk up the dark unholy stairs to my friend’s home to find her with a western customer. Her sister and her children waiting outside… I saw the man escape down the stairs. His white skin, pony tail and striped shirt blurring past down the stairs away from his sin, his lust, his defamation of the body of my friend. I stood there for a second baffled and then I chased him to find him to ask him…what the heck he was doing and why he felt entitled to have five dollar sex with an 18 year girl...a girl who confesses that she no longer has a heart….who will not leave the trade because she believes that there is no salvation for her, that the darkness of her heart matches the darkness of the stairs that we climb to get to her room. But he was gone when I reached the street.

God did you see what I just saw? I need you to be here with her. Will you return to her what has been stolen not only this time but all the times before this one?

We travel in a mixed world…worlds we think will never collide. But today they collided. Even as we talked about what we would have said to the western man we saw escaping from our friend’s room in Sonagacchi we encountered him. There he was leaving and we were entering for lunch. And the words we wanted to say, to scream, to shout—who do you think you are? Why are you having sex with little girls you creep? But angry words did not come out of our mouths—only “Sir, we saw you today in Sonagacchi” first he smiled and then he turned and walked away as we called “what were you doing there?”

Jesus will you forgive him and help me because I can not. Are you here? Do you see that man’s heart? Do you see mine?

Why would the western man know better…we are all the same. I sat down and prayed for him, forgave and then cursed and hated him. I abhorred him because I know that he represents some part of me—that part of me that can dehumanize another, the part that chooses not to see everyone as valuable, the part that is selfish and lustful. But I am not him but by a grace—a thread of belief, redemption and hope.

Jesus forgive me, help me to forgive him. Love him and pray for him. My hope is you God…the only hope of Sonagacchi is you Jesus. I hope because you are my Hope.