Directly after arriving in Thailand, I received a copy of the book The Natashas. It's a journalist's compilation of factual information and personal experience collected around the world while investigating the global sex-trade. It's shocking and overwhelming. I was filled with anger, resentment, indignation, helplessness and fight. I have to say the proverbial veil has been lifted and I now see what the Enemy's up to right under our noses. Global sex-trafficking has become the biggest problem we face in this generation. It's no longer starving children in Africa or the AIDS epidemic, it's the kidnapping and selling of young women into the underground sex trade. Almost a million young women each year (nameless faces, referred to as Natasha in the book) are pulled into a business where there is no escape. Unlike bargirls, who choose to work, these young women are sold by their parents, deceived by news ads, or kidnapped from their villages and forced into service on the open sex market. Most of the women come from nations in Eastern Europe, looking for golden opportunities abroad as nannies and waitresses.
As soon as their passports are taken, the women are shuffled into the system and can end up around the globe in a matter of hours, servicing 10-12 men a day in some seedy brothel, having no idea where they are or how they'll survive. Before released into the hands of their new pimps, though, the girls are "broken in" - a process meant to break their spirits and wills, as much as their bodies. Their lives are threatened, and those of their families back home. They quickly learn that the police are corrupt (paid off in brothel service), the governments are corrupt, and there are no laws that protect them in foreign countries. Their families have no idea where they are. They have no allies, no connections, and no passport. They become suicidal, sometimes successful. Occasionally they escape, but are often returned to the pimps by police, or jailed for prostitution.
After reading the book, it was clear to me that the sex trade was in existence in Bangkok as well, most likely in front of our eyes. I noticed immediately a very large number of middle-eastern men around the area where we were ministering at night. Most of them run tailor shops in Bangkok, along some of the busiest streets, and I found it hard to believe that they could earn enough money in a tailor shop to afford the high status in which they appear. I was deeply suspicious after reading my book, having learned so much more about the trade & which countries run the gamut on abduction, transport and purchase. Cristie and I decided to investigate, using tips from the book, and see if we could dig up some info on European prostitutes in Bangkok. It only took a matter of minutes to discover where "Russian" girls could be found to service men, and I knew we had them. My heart beat rapidly at what was unfolding in front of me.
A few days later, our days in Bangkok coming to a close, Cristie and I ventured out just to see what we could find. As it turns out, we were directed to an area of town known as the Arab district, right next door to where we had been ministering for a month. We were looking for a specific bar, and walked a couple blocks down but didn't see it. Headed back towards home, I felt the Holy Spirit tell me to try a side street, so we did. On that street, I met a man who asked what I was looking for. I brushed him off and told him it wasn't there. He responded, "How do you know if you don't ask?" So, deciding to humor him, I asked where the bar was and he promptly told us it went by a new name, but was a block down. Amazed, we headed that way, found it and went in. There was nothing suspicious that I could see, so we walked out to go home. Stepping onto the street, we came face to face with a hotel that was mentioned several times in our research as a place to go for Russian girls. My jaw dropped, and I knew we had just found what we were looking for, and that the Holy Spirit had guided us there intentionally.
We went in, looking for a disco club and discovering a large amount of middle-eastern men hanging around the lobby. There were dozens of Asian girls in a seated area on the left, and the sounds of loud music floating down the hall from a room at the back. Everything was wrong about the atmosphere, nothing was "normal". We pressed on, determined that we were in the right place. A pool hall emerged on the right and I suggested we venture in there first, mostly to gain a few more minutes of preparation before we entered the disco. Several tables on the left were occupied by foreign men, and it was clear we did not blend in. However, we pressed on, fearless, but wary. All of a sudden, I rounded a huge marble column that was blocking our view and came face to face with 4 girls playing pool. They were surprised to see us, and edgy at our presence. They were speaking in low tones, but I caught a European dialect in their voices and knew, without a shadow of doubt, that we had just found what we were looking for.
In that moment, I didn't know what to do. There were a handful of Arab guys standing around, obviously guarding the girls, and eyeballing us. At risk of exposure, I turned to Cristie and made small talk while my mind raced. Neither of us knew what to do. We had never formulated a plan. We expected to find them in some seedy bar, not in a quiet pool hall surrounded by guards. Desperate to speak to them, I conjured an excuse and approached one of the girls. "Excuse me…do you know where the disco is?" She turned to face me, completely panicked that I spoke to her, and stammered out a response, "Wh…what?.." When I looked in her eyes, I saw everything I needed to know…pain, hopelessness and terror. I knew she was Natasha. She pointed me in the direction of the club. Cristie and I walked away, having no idea what to do. We entered the disco area briefly, seeing 5 more girls under watch. While we were in there, one of the big guards outside brought in the girl I was talking to and her friend. They looked absolutely miserable. It was too loud to talk, and we knew there was no way we could accomplish anything. We headed home, choking back tears in the taxi, and sobbing together later.
The next night, we took 2 guys and returned to that hotel, hoping and praying to see the girls again, this time with a plan of approach. They were nowhere to be seen. It was our last night in Bangkok, and there was nothing I could do. I reported the story to several groups in Thailand that help trafficked girls, trusting that God will deliver them. But I was left asking God why He'd so obviously led me there when there was nothing I could do. I cried out to Him in my pain, and He reminded me of a prayer I had at the beginning of the Race. I asked God to let me see what sin had done to our world. He has consistently answered that prayer every day of the Race so far, some days more strongly than others. I cannot forget those eyes…that terror…that pain. I cannot forget how helpless I felt when I looked in them, and it still brings me to tears instantly. In that moment, something changed in me. I couldn't look in her eyes and then just walk away…to do nothing. I saw her life, her heart, her suffering. And it became mine, too. So, this is me, not walking away. This is me, telling you so that you can't ever walk away either… because somewhere, at this moment, a young girl is getting raped for the first time on the global sex market. Her name is Natasha and her life will never be the same.