Domestic prisoner prevails

Published: Oct. 24, 2006 3:00 a.m.


Girl forced into servitude recounts her story in court; Irvine captors get prison terms.:
By GREG HARDESTY//The Orange County Register

 When authorities found her, the 12-year-old girl was shabbily dressed with reddish hands caked with dead, hard-looking skin - the result of being forced to work as a domestic servant for a large Irvine family.

Monday, at the culmination of Orange County's first federal prosecution of a human-trafficking case, the girl, now 17 and in a caring home, told a judge how she lost nearly two years of her childhood.

"Where was their love when it came to me?" the teen said, sobbing. "I was a human being, too."

Just a few feet away, the couple who treated her like an outcast in their new home in a gated community, forcing her to care for their five children and do housework for no pay, somberly awaited sentencing.

"What they did to me will scar me for the rest of my life," said the girl, Shyima. The Register is identifying her only by her first name at the request of her foster parents. "They treated me like nothing."

At the end of the emotional, two-hour hearing in Santa Ana, U.S. District Judge James V. Selna sentenced the pair to prison and ordered them to pay the girl more than $152,000 in restitution - the amount, plus penalties, that prosecutors calculated she would have made working seven days a week for 20 months.

After expressing remorse through an Arabic translator, Abdel Nasser Youssef Ibrahim, 45, was sentenced to three years in federal prison.

His former wife, Amal Ahmed Ewis-Abd El Motelib, 43, who also apologized to the court for her treatment of the girl, was sentenced to 22 months.

"What happened was due to my ignorance of the law," Motelib told the judge.

In a plea deal with prosecutors, she and Ibrahim pleaded guilty to four felonies, including conspiracy and holding a person in involuntary service through force, for keeping the girl in their home against her will from August 2000 to April 2002.

 Ibrahim was ordered to surrender to authorities on Oct. 30, and Motelib on Nov. 13, but agents with the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement took them into custody immediately after sentencing for deportation proceedings. Both will be deported to Egypt after they serve their sentences, said William J. Hayes, a special agent with ICE in Santa Ana.

"I hope this brave and courageous child encourages others who may be in similar situations to come forward," Hayes said outside court.

Shyima, who comes from an impoverished family, began working in the couple's home in Egypt when she was 9.

According to court documents, the couple caught her sister - also employed in their home - stealing.

They threatened to turn her over to authorities unless Shyima came with them to the United States as their domestic servant. They struck a deal with her parents, essentially leasing her for $30 a month for a planned 10 years.

What transpired in Irvine was a modern-day saga of child slavery, according to court documents and an interview with Shyima.

Shyima was not allowed to go to school and was refused visits to the doctor.

She was relegated to a 12-by-8-foot converted room in the garage and forced to sleep on a dirty, fold-up mattress. She had no dresser, no closet, no heating or ventilation and only a black widow spider for a companion.

Every morning, Shyima would wake up the three youngest children and dress them. She would make their breakfast and pack their lunches for school while Ibrahim and Motelib slept.

While the other children in the household went to school, played with friends and visited the mosque, Shyima was shunned. She was not allowed to eat with the family and was verbally abused. Family members called her "the Stupid Girl," among other names.

Shyima was forced to hand-wash her clothes separately, in a soapy bucket she kept by her mattress.

On at least one occasion, Ibrahim slapped her for disobeying, and Motelib slapped her at least twice.

They told her she would be arrested if she went outside alone.

 One day, a neighbor saw her taking out the trash and asked her why she was not in school. An anonymous phone call tipped off authorities.

Defense lawyers argued that in Egypt it is customary to employ children as domestic help. Laws there prohibit employing children 12 and under.

Ibrahim and Motelib said in court papers that their conduct was motivated by a "well-intentioned, charitable desire to care for and support the children of an impoverished Egyptian family."

Two of their five children, both adults, have been deported to Egypt; the others, a 16-year-old girl and twin 12-year-old boys, are expected to be placed in the care of relatives in Southern California.

Shyima saw a counselor for more than year and says she is starting to move on. But she still feels anger at Ibrahim and Motelib.

Her foster parents, Jenny and Chuck Hall, 36, who are expecting to finalize adoption proceedings in December, say she is adjusting well. The Halls have three biological children and three foster children.

Shyima is a junior in high school.

She plays soccer and softball and is learning to play the guitar. She loves movies and hanging out at the mall. She plans to go to junior college and is thinking about becoming a police officer.

After Monday's sentencing, she and her parents strolled downtown Santa Ana.

They bought her a new black dress for a homecoming dance this Saturday.

Danielle

"I kept weapons, in case the tricks acted up. So I wasnt never scared of them. They stupid. Especially the white ones. They be the ones that want to do the dirty stuff but I wasn't having none of that. . ."
And finally Danielle begins to tell me about her experiences in the sex industry. Now she's animated, confident to be the expert, schooling me on which johns are the best paying, which hotels are the nicest, which tricks you have to be careful of. I'm trying to reconcile what she is saying with the fact that I know she's eleven and a minute ago we were talking about her favorite rides at Great Adventure, but I can't

from Girls Like Us by Rachel Lloyd

Some Q&A with Nicole Marett

Until consumers start voting with their dollars, buying products that are ethically sourced and tell other companies that we won’t shop with them, the market can’t change.

I recently emailed the owner and founder of Radiant Cosmetics because I am writing about businesses that have ethical practises, and highlighting RC's fight against human trafficking

Here's a little Q&A with +Nicole Marett  

1) When I asked about your mica being ethically sourced that really made me wonder what the cost difference is. Is there a significant difference in the price of supplies that you know to have been provided via fair labour as opposed to those without transparency or with questionable origins?

It depends product to product, for mica specifically, the price difference is minimal for ethically sourced mica. However, other ingredients the price difference is quite large. Often times, finding ethically sourced products is difficult, anything organic or mineral based is often up to 50% more in price.

2) do you feel that your ethical practises and donations have made it difficult to run a profitable business?

Yes! There are several reasons it makes it more difficult. First, we donate 20% of profits, which sounds minimal. But that’s 20% we could be spending on better advertising and marketing each month to get the word out more. Also, often times because our products are more ethically made, we have trouble offering a selection that is on trend and keeping up with fashion seasons. For example, I’ve been wanting to add and revamp a few new products, but simply can’t find ingredients that have records of their source so I either have to choose to make a product that I know will be a big seller and make us more profits, or choose not to make it because I don’t know where the ingredients come from.

3) Is it difficult to find suppliers that demonstrate transparency and fair labour?

Yes, this is the most difficult part. A year later, I’m still working on getting every single ingredient certified. It simply doesn’t exist to check everything. It’s easy to check the bigger ingredients such as mica, but other items, while I feel comfortable that they are ethically sourced still lack certification. I’d love to fair trade certify my company, but don’t have that option because certification can’t be found on every single little piece/part. Asking suppliers is also another huge pain, they are confused at why I care so much about where the products are made and how. Many suppliers won’t answer me or care to check. It’s definitely a frustrating process.

I think something else that would be great to include would be the responsibility that lies with the consumer as well. Before starting Radiant, I didn’t understand why businesses couldn’t just do things ethically. Just get new suppliers, didn’t seem that hard. Then I realized what a headache it can be. Most of all though, I find that customers don’t care. Every once in a while I’ll have people ask about the sourcing of my products, which I love, because it means they care. However, not enough people care. Until consumers start voting with their dollars, buying products that are ethically sourced and tell other companies that we won’t shop with them, the market can’t change. I know for me, as a small business, making a profit has been incredibly hard, people have to actively choose to shop for ethical products, whether that’s mine or another company.

#fighthumantrafficking   #endsextrafficking   #ethicallysourced  #ethicalfashion  

radiantcosmetics.org

The Cry of the Children

The Cry of the Children

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–61)

DO ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,       Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers,       And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows,         5   The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing with the shadows,   The young flowers are blowing toward the west: But the young, young children, O my brothers,       They are weeping bitterly!         10 They are weeping in the playtime of the others,       In the country of the free. Do you question the young children in the sorrow       Why their tears are falling so? The old man may weep for his to-morrow         15       Which is lost in Long Ago; The old tree is leafless in the forest,   The old year is ending in the frost, The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest,   The old hope is hardest to be lost:         20 But the young, young children, O my brothers,       Do you ask them why they stand Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers,       In our happy Fatherland? They look up with their pale and sunken faces,         25       And their looks are sad to see, For the man’s hoary anguish draws and presses       Down the cheeks of infancy; “Your old earth,” they say, “is very dreary,   Our young feet,” they say, “are very weak;         30 Few paces have we taken, yet are weary—   Our grave-rest is very far to seek: Ask the aged why they weep, and not the children,       For the outside earth is cold, And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering,         35       And the graves are for the old.” “True,” say the children, “it may happen       That we die before our time: Little Alice died last year, her grave is shapen       Like a snowball, in the rime.         40 We looked into the pit prepared to take her:   Was no room for any work in the close clay! From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her,   Crying, ‘Get up, little Alice! it is day.’ If you listen by that grave, in sun and shower,         45   With your ear down, little Alice never cries: Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her,   For the smile has time for growing in her eyes: And merry go her moments, lull’d and still’d in       The shroud by the kirk-chime.         50 It is good when it happens,” say the children,       “That we die before our time.” Alas, alas, the children! they are seeking       Death in life, as best to have: They are binding up their hearts away from breaking,         55       With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city,   Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do; Pluck your handfuls of the meadow-cow-slips pretty,   Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through!         60 But they answer, “Are your cowslips of the meadows       Like our weeds anear the mine? Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal-shadows,       From your pleasures fair and fine! “For oh,” say the children, “we are weary,         65       And we cannot run or leap; If we car’d for any meadows, it were merely       To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping,   We fall upon our faces, trying to go;         70 And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping,   The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For, all day, we drag our burden tiring       Through the coal-dark, underground, Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron         75       In the factories, round and round. “For all day, the wheels are droning, turning;       Their wind comes in our faces, Till our hearts turn, our heads with pulses burning,       And the walls turn in their places:         80 Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling,   Turns the long light that drops adown the wall, Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling,   All are turning, all the day, and we with all. And all day, the iron wheels are droning,         85       And sometimes we could pray, ‘O ye wheels,’ moaning breaking out in a mad       ‘Stop! be silent for to-day!’” Ay, be silent! Let them hear each other breathing       For a moment, mouth to mouth!         90 Let them touch each other’s hands, in a fresh wreathing       Of their tender human youth! Let them feel that this cold metallic motion   Is not all the life God fashions or reveals: Let them prove their living souls against the notion         95   That they live in you, or under you, O wheels! Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward,       Grinding life down from its mark; And the children’s souls, which God is calling sunward,       Spin on blindly in the dark.         100 Now tell the poor young children, O my brothers,       To look up to Him and pray; So the blessed One who blesseth all the others,       Will bless them another day. They answer, “Who is God that He should hear us,         105   While the rushing of the iron wheels is stirr’d? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us   Pass by, hearing not, or answer not a word. And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding)       Strangers speaking at the door:         110 Is it likely God, with angels singing round Him,       Hears our weeping any more? “Two words, indeed, of praying we remember,       And at midnight’s hour of harm, ‘Our Father,’ looking upward in the chamber,         115       We say softly for a charm. We know no other words except ‘Our Father,’   And we think that, in some pause of angels’ song, God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather,   And hold both within His right hand which is strong.         120 ‘Our Father!’ If He heard us, He would surely       (For they call Him good and mild) Answer, smiling down the steep world very purely,       ‘Come and rest with me, my child.’ “But, no!” say the children, weeping faster,         125       “He is speechless as a stone: And they tell us, of His image is the master       Who commands us to work on. Go to!” say the children,—“up in heaven,   Dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we find.         130 Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving:   We look up for God, but tears have made us blind.” Do you hear the children weeping and disproving,       O my brothers, what ye preach? For God’s possible is taught by His world’s loving,         135       And the children doubt of each. And well may the children weep before you!       They are weary ere they run: They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory       Which is brighter than the sun.         140 They know the grief of man, without its wisdom;   They sink in man’s despair, without its calm; Are slaves, without the liberty in Christdom,   Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm: Are worn as if with age, yet unretrievingly         145       The harvest of its memories cannot reap,— Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly.       Let them weep! let them weep! They look up with their pale and sunken faces,       And their look is dread to see,         150 For they mind you of their angels in high places,       With eyes turned on Deity. “How long,” they say, “how long, O cruel nation,   Will you stand, to move the world, on a child’s heart,— Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation,         155   And tread onward to your throne amid the mart? Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper,       And your purple shows your path! But the child’s sob in the silence curses deeper       Than the strong man in his wrath.”

27

I like the number 27.

It was my favourite Psalm
My best friend's age.

But what I hate about 27, is that's how many million people are enslaved today. Say something about it. Educate, Activate, Terminate.

Because people were never meant to be bought or sold. 

Killing babies

Something I learned today: 126,000 abortions are performed daily worldwide

And 30,000 preschoolers die every day from preventable causes.

I couldn't find any stats about how many die in wars, genocides, infanticide. . .

Over 150,000 little kids dying each day because we just don't value life enough. We're too selfish, eliminating fetuses because they're inconvenient. . .ignoring hungry, thirsty, sick toddlers because we just don't care.

One of the best parts of my life is I get to kiss sweet baby faces. Sounds funny, but its true. I love cuddling little cuties.

So sad to think over 50 million babies never make it out of the womb alive. What the hell is our problem?