We Found Him!

A year and a half ago, I crossed the placid waters of Lake Volta in eastern Ghana, West Africa to see child slavery up close and personal for the first time. My friend Tony took me to a tiny fishing village to discuss the problem, as well as the poverty and lack of education and opportunity that continue to fuel the flames of child trafficking.

On our hour-long journey across the lake in a rickety fishing boat, complete with a hacked-off jug to scoop water as the leaky floor filled up, I saw several young boys working on fishing boats. These boys have been sold by their parents (mostly single mothers who cannot support them). Many mothers are promised the children will attend school and be well cared-for. This is not the case. They are beaten. They go hungry for days at a time. They sleep outside in the mud. They don't go to school. They fear for their lives.

On that first journey. I snapped a photo of two little boys in a boat that haunts me to this day. They were so small, and one boy in particular braced himself against the side of the boat and looked right at me with eyes so hollow that I wanted to row up to him and take him away right then.

Since then, I have stared at that photograph more times than I can count. It's on my Compassionate Journeys business cards, and it's on the banner we created for events. It's on our website, and I've written many blogs about child trafficking and included that picture.

Last week, we interviewed 32 child slaves on Lake Volta. They were first of about 150 children in a small village whose owners are ready to release them - as soon as we have a place for them to go. We heard stories so disturbing that we couldn't hold back tears. Each one of us were so moved by these children's stories that they come back to us in the quiet minutes before sleep and in odd moments when we're doing other things, but a child's face pops into our minds like a jack-in-the-box of difficult memory. We cannot forget them.

On that first day, a little boy of about seven years old was brought to us. He was the fourth child we saw. Deb and Jake snapped photos and video while I talked to him. He was very sick, and his eyes were even more hollow because fever had taken over his little body. His master had beaten him the day before because he said he was too sick to work, so he had fished even though he was ill, probably with malaria. While he spoke, I looked at Jake and said, "I think this is the boy from the photo." We looked at each other questioningly, and I went on talking to him.

His story was one of many we heard that day, each one as terrible as the one before. I can't stop thinking of one answer in particular all of the children gave me. I asked them why they didn't run away, and every single child answered that no one would help them. One little girl burst into tears and said, "Please take me away from here." At the end of the day, we got in a boat and went back to our village, but they had to go back to their masters, where they feared for their lives every day. Every child had seen someone or knew someone who died on the lake, and they feared they would be next. It was heartbreaking.

I put my camera away and continued our work in the village for a couple of days. It wasn't until we were going back through photos on our way to Accra that I took out a business card and compared pictures. Without a doubt, the little boy we'd spoken to was the boy in the photo. Another little boy may have been the second boy, but it's difficult to tell. "It's him," I told Deb and Jake. "I can't believe it's him." Deb and I collapsed into sobs. I don't have words to express how it feels. That picture has been seared into my mind like a brand for many months, and we now have an opportunity to help this little boy.

We resolved to build a safe home for these children where they can go to school, be safe, and most of all, be loved. Plans are being established, but with help, we can get the first 30 children off of the lake by Christmas of 2012.

We told every child we spoke to the same thing: We have heard you and we want to help. It may take time, but be patient. Every child nodded, and I have a photo of this little boy giving me a hug.

I will not let him down.

If you would like to help, please contact amanda@compassionatejourneys.com.