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Eyes That See, Hearts That Care, Hands That Help
I want you to be concerned about your next door neighbor. Do you know your next door neighbor?
—Mother Teresa
Given Kachepa,1 now a young man in his twenties, stood at his father’s Zambia gravesite, to which he, his siblings, and other family members had hiked through snake-infested, six-foot-high weeds and underbrush. The pain of missing his parents returned. Still, visiting their resting places had brought him peace. He had come home.
There was a time Given had thought this would never happen. He thought he would never escape the Baptist missionary, Keith Grimes, who had taken him and other boys from his poor African community to the United States to sing in a choir and supposedly live a better life. And without Sandy Shepherd—an American wife, mother, and devoted Christian—and others like her, he might still be enduring the brutal mistreatment to which he’d been subjected for so long.
It was 1999. Eleven-year-old Given leaned against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees. He was in the back bedroom of the double-wide mobile home where he lived for months with anywhere from twelve to twenty-two other boys. Some, like Given, were members of the Zambian Acapella Boys Choir II; members of other choirs were also working for the Teachers Teaching Teachers (TTT) ministry. Despite his exhaustion, along with the fear and hopelessness that come from being crammed into such a small space, Given concentrated on trying to remain positive. But even with air-conditioning, the Texas sun made the inside of the trailer home feel hot and humid and seemed to intensify his misery.
Being tired and weak, he didn’t feel he had the energy to shovel the stone-hard Texas soil one more time today. He and the rest of the boys from the choir had been so delighted when a few months earlier Pastor Keith had said, “You want a swimming pool? Wouldn’t it be fun to have a swimming pool?” Little did they realize they would be forced to dig it themselves with shovels and picks. Today, as usual, they had been awakened at 7:00 a.m. and made to go out and run, then ate breakfast and worked on excavating the future pool. Hours later, despite bone-crushing fatigue, they had begun choir rehearsal. Given knew that they wouldn’t get anything more to eat until they’d finished their five hours of practice. As growing teen and preteen boys, they were naturally hungry, which increased their suffering for lack of food.
The meal would be meager at best, consisting mainly of a dish called nshima, which was similar to cornmeal mush. He knew better than to complain. Punishment for complaints about the lack of food or their extreme fatigue, or for inquiries about why they weren’t getting the schooling they had been promised, ranged from verbal assaults to having the gas to the double-wide trailer turned off, making it impossible for them to even cook their nshima.
This was not the picture that Pastor Keith had painted of the lives Given and the others would live in America when Given had auditioned for the choir in his hometown of Kalingalinga, Zambia. Pastor Keith had promised the comfort of shelter, plenty of food, and a good education. Life in Zambia was so difficult. It had been easy for Pastor Keith to convince the locals that any life in America would be an improvement. Given couldn’t wait. He was most excited about the opportunity to earn money so he could help his family. Even though he wasn’t the oldest, somehow he had always felt responsible for the care of all his siblings, especially his younger sister, Doreen, and his oldest sister, Grace. Now Grace was suffering from tuberculosis, the same disease that had taken his mom. He couldn’t bear the thought of also losing her to that horrific disease. He had to find a way to buy the medical attention she needed.
Given had been just seven when his mom died. Though he hardly remembered her, he still recalled the comforting smell of her body when she used to hold him close. He was too young to attend her funeral, but he often thought of her and tried to hold remnants of her in his heart and mind.
When Given was nine, his father died. “My world fell apart,” he says. “I helped build my father’s coffin and remember looking at him, thinking he could speak.” Given recalled going with his uncles and aunts to his father’s funeral and seeing the metal and glass plate his uncle placed as a marker at the head of his father’s grave. They did that so they would know where his father was buried when they wanted to return. Given had dreamed for years of going back to the grave and visiting his father, but it was two hours through the bush from their town. He hoped his dad was proud of him, even though he hadn’t been able to bring in as much money for the family as he had hoped.
As a child—and an orphan—Given looked constantly for any kind of available work. He broke stones and carried heavy loads to earn tiny amounts of cash. He carried purchases for ladies as they exited the minibus. He sold paraffin for the cooking grills. He was able to buy food and shoes for his sisters, but there was never enough left for the large sum it would cost to get medical care for Grace. He took comfort in the services he attended at Highland Baptist Church. It was there that he became a Christian and grew into the relationship with God that sustained him through the hard times. He said that prayer sustained him with the strength that he needed to get through his incredibly difficult life.
The Scam of TTT
Keith Grimes and TTT seemed like the answer to his prayers. When Given met them in 1998, the seemingly gentle and trustworthy managers talked about other boys’ choirs they had brought from Zambia to the United States. They said that with the money earned putting on concerts at churches and schools, TTT would be able to fund the building of schools in Zambia. They promised that the boys who traveled to America with them would get a good school education, as well as a fair salary for performing, so they would be able to send home money to the families left behind.
This was the part that made Given the happiest. In addition to providing for his siblings while he was away, upon his return he could buy some land in Zambia and build a house where they could all live together. His big heart wanted more than anything to make life better for his family, and this chance to go to America with TTT might be his only opportunity.
The village was buzzing with talk of the lucky ones who would get to travel to America with TTT. Given practiced singing constantly, even though he knew the odds were not in his favor since he was younger and less experienced than most of the auditioning boys. Still, he was determined to try his best. When he was told he was among the chosen ones, “It was like a dream come true,” says Given. “They told us they were going to give us free everything—free clothes and money.” What could be better than getting paid for singing about his faith every day and getting a great education too? He hoped the paperwork would come through fast so he could go right away. His family needed money.
Although TTT had recruited and returned other choir members from Kalingalinga, Grimes’s finely crafted web of deception, along with a clever campaign that discredited those who had come back, prevented Given from knowing the grim reality he would face when he came to America with them.
Sadly, his beloved sister Grace died before he could get to the United States and start sending money home. He mourned her death, and silently he prayed that no harm would come to any of his other siblings. He went to live with his aunt Margret, but with six children of her own, there was not enough food, clothing, or even blankets to keep them all fed, dry, and warm. “Some days we were lucky to get one meal.”2 Given helped her as much as he could and earned money as best he could, but at times it seemed as if the cold and poverty were dark clouds closing in on them. Still, Given felt the opportunity with TTT would be a way to help them all. News of his paperwork coming through couldn’t arrive fast enough.
Finally, it was time to go to America. The flight was comfortable with plenty to eat. A tray of food all to himself? Little did he know he wouldn’t experience that sense of comfort again for a long time.
When they got to America, the boys sang in churches and schools, sometimes performing as many as eight concerts a day. Pastor Keith, who had seemed so gentle and kind in Zambia, was now cruel and demanding. Schooling was nonexistent, and Given soon experienced a new kind of pain and exhaustion. When the boys pleaded for more rest and sustenance, Keith verbally abused them for challenging his authority in their lives. They were also not allowed to question why they weren’t being paid as promised. Instead, Pastor Keith gave them a list of Scriptures, reminding them that they were there to be servants and were expected to obey their master. The hierarchy was both clear and coercive. Pastor Keith was in charge, and they were to be subservient. Complaints about their treatment were met with threats to return the dissenters to Zambia. The threats were real.
“I thought we were going to go to school,” a few of the boys said to Pastor Keith eleven months into the tour. “When are you going to pay us for our work?” They were kicked out of the choir and turned over to the authorities for deportation. The message sent back to Kalingalinga with them would be that they had been disobedient, disrespectful, and irresponsible. Sometimes when a boy was sent back to Zambia in disgrace, his family rejected him. The Zambian community was also more prone to believe a white pastor than an “ungrateful and lazy” Zambian teenager.
While on tour, the boys stayed with host families. Although the host families often offered them gifts, the boys had been forbidden to accept them. When the host families insisted they take phone cards, sneakers, Bibles, or other gifts—or slipped gifts into their suitcases—the “contraband” would be confiscated during one of TTT’s regular searches of the boys’ personal belongings. Much later, it was discovered that Barbara Grimes Martens, Keith’s daughter, had buried some of the gifts in the hole the boys had been forced to dig for a swimming pool. The rest of the gifts the boys had treasured had been tossed in a Dumpster.
In between concert tours, the boys were brought back to the crowded trailer in Whitesboro, Texas—that is, the middle of nowhere. They were the only black individuals for many miles. Any hope of asking for help was dashed with the knowledge that people would believe the white American preacher over skinny black boys from Africa. That was one of the many things that kept the Zambian Boys Choir captive. “It seemed like we were free, but really we were not free, because psychologically we’d been coerced to behave in a certain way, and if we were not, they’d say, ‘We are going to send you back to Zambia.’”3
Though the boys regularly saw large sums given on their behalf in the church offerings that TTT collected at their concerts, the money never reached them and did nothing to improve their living conditions or their treatment. They lived in a state of agitation, anger, and exhaustion, whether performing or not. When young Given collapsed during one tour, Pastor Keith told him to stand and get ready to sing. “I’m too tired and weak,” Given explained. “I am exhausted.”
The pastor grabbed him by the shirt, stood him up, and raged in his face. “I said get up and sing, boy. Unless you want to go home, you will sing!”
Motivated by fear and the lingering hope of a better life for himself and his family, Given conjured up the energy to sing through the day’s remaining concerts. He realized that despite the current hardships, he had no other options.
TTT’s leadership had told Given that if the authorities questioned him, he was to say that the boys were happy, well fed, and fairly paid and that they wanted to be there. If he didn’t tell them that, they promised to send him back to Zambia in disgrace. He would never be able to help his brothers and sisters that way. He had to be strong.
Things didn’t improve even after Pastor Keith died of a brain tumor in April 1999. His daughter Barbara and son-in-law Gary Martens, to whom he had turned over the operation, were just as demanding and controlling as he had been.
Good Samaritans Take Action
The law was starting to catch up with TTT. The boys had been told not to talk about TTT with host families, and TTT’s leadership had told host families not to provide the choir members with any personal information that could lead to future communication. However, suspecting that the boys were being exploited, host families from previous choirs had tried to get help for their temporary charges. Phone calls and letters had been generated to federal, state, and local authorities, and the FBI was contacted along with the senators and governor of Texas. The FBI determined nothing was wrong because they did not see any handcuffs or bruises on the boys. According to Sandy, one choir member even contacted The Oprah Winfrey Show to see if the superstar might draw attention to this case of modern slavery. None of these calls produced help for the Zambian boys. It seemed as if no one was willing to help. But the groundwork had been laid.
In the spring of 1999, Barbara Grimes Martens demanded the Feds take away the four boys who had protested their treatment, saying they were a “physical threat.” Although they were removed in handcuffs, law enforcement’s investigation quickly revealed that the boys were not at fault. The Labor Department was informed, and TTT was told to begin paying the choir members. A lawsuit was filed on behalf of the choir members, prompting TTT to begin paying them, at least on the books. Behind the scenes, however, the Martenses told the boys they owed back pay for housing, food, clothing, electricity, and other expenses. Even though the Labor Department believed the boys were being paid in full, they were given only a small amount of money, about $20 per month, which was insufficient to buy the meals they were expected to purchase for themselves as they traveled from city to city.
The rescued “arrested” boys managed to get word back to Given that they had not been sent back to Zambia and had instead been placed in safe housing. That gave the remaining boys hope that they could get out as well. Finally, in January 2000, the boys demanded that Barbara Grimes Martens either pay them what she owed or call the Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS) to take them away. The INS was contacted and the boys were removed from the trailer. That’s when the INS called Sandy Shepherd’s church, and she was contacted and asked to help.
Sandy is an active and trusted member in her local church who regularly contributed to the choir and loves getting behind worthy causes and being a part of good things happening. But she was busy with her own family’s needs. Her daughter was in a major theatrical production at school, and other pressing matters had rendered her busier than ever. Nonetheless, she felt she needed to house these boys so they wouldn’t have to spend the night in a holding cell. Her mother heart knew that after all they’d been through they needed a place to stay where they would feel safe.
Sandy’s sense of responsibility for the boys extended past that one night. After three months, she single-handedly managed to place each of them in long-term homes. Given went to West Texas to live but returned to visit the Shepherds in August 2000. During his visit, the host mom sent Given a letter indicating that because of her health problems she could no longer house him. By that point, the Shepherds’ last child had left for college, so they took in Given as their own. He has appeared in every family portrait since.
Given worked hard to improve his English. “In seventh grade I would go to class and I didn’t understand a single thing that the teacher said. If I had a paper to write, sometimes it’d take me six or seven hours to get done because I wasn’t understanding what was going on in class.” He decided he would learn twenty new words a day, and he drilled himself on those and practiced using them in conversations.4
Given worked hard in school and feels that persistence is the key to achieving his goals. He tells young people now, “Life is very difficult for anybody, but you just have to keep pushing and eventually you’re going to reach your goal.”5
But he didn’t just work hard at school. Through the odd jobs he’s held since starting high school, Given has sent money back to help his family in Zambia on a regular basis. His earnings allowed his brother to build a four-bedroom home where his family lives.
This young man who at one time struggled with speaking English knows how to achieve goals. He graduated from the University of North Texas and is in his last year at Baylor School of Dentistry. He will be a full-fledged dentist soon, and after he has paid his school loans, his next goal remains the same as it has been since the day he left for America at age eleven: going back to Zambia to help his family and other Zambians.
One other promise has been fulfilled as well: Sandy and Deetz Shepherd and other host families opened a school for the Zambian Acapella Boys Choir in Kalingalinga, making good on Grimes’s empty promise years before regarding education. That school still serves the community with high school classes.
Not all trafficking stories have an ending this happy and wonderful. This is a good example of a community linking arms and doing what they can for the good of all. Given is right when he says, “You’re going to go through hardships . . . you just put your head down . . . you trust in God . . . you’re going to reach your goal.”6
After what seemed like a lifetime, Given returned to Zambia with Sandy Shepherd in 2011 to reunite with his siblings, family, and friends. It had been eleven and a half years since they had seen each other. Given, now a grown man, looked very different than the eleven-year-old who boarded that giant plane in 1998.
After he’d sat for days with his siblings getting reacquainted, Given set out to find his parents’ resting places. He had been so young when his mother died. Witnessing kids and mothers interacting during all those stays in host homes had made Given wonder what his life would have been like if his mother had survived.
He was grateful for Sandy and Deetz Shepherd. They had given him so much and had shown him love in ways he’d never known in Zambia or with TTT. He loved them and thought of them as his American parents. In return, they too loved him like he was their own flesh and blood. But Given knew he had to find his roots. It was a part of who he was, and he needed to know.
The day he and his aunt, Margret, found his mother’s grave had a bittersweet flavor. Hand-dug graves, mound after mound covering a thousand acres, were overgrown with weeds that were especially high and thick in the rainy season. Margret remembered a mango tree being near her sister’s grave. Finally, after digging through the grass on different mounds in the area near the mango tree, they spotted the small piece of metal with the correct number on it.
Given was relieved to find the spot where his mom rested. As he and Aunt Margret shared stories of his mom, he was surprised at the peace he felt. When he was a little boy, they had taken his mama’s body away to a place that he couldn’t visit. He had missed her terribly and dreamed of where she might be. Now he knew, and he felt the peace and the pain of closure.
Sandy Shepherd watched her son from a respectful distance. Her heart ached for him and for the mother he had lost at such a young age, and yet she was pleased that he had this moment. She knew this was hard on Given, but the experience was giving him a much-needed part of the puzzle of himself. As Given walked away from his mother’s grave, he broke off the top of a large wild plant and grasped it tightly in his hand. Taking it with him back to America would be important to his healing. Somehow this weed from near his mother’s grave would remind him that he hadn’t been abandoned or rejected.
Later that week, he set out to find his father’s grave. This time, much of his family—aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, and cousins—joined him. Sandy also came to lend her support. The group walked for the better part of two hours, deep into the dense bush where the threat of snakes and other creatures was very real. They also walked through cornfields, through weeds taller than they were, and over terrain so steep that they had to slide down in order to get through. Finally, they found the area that Given and the others recognized as his father’s burial site.
Given had now completed the trek to see his family. As he walked away from his dad’s grave, he broke off the top of another weed. Joined with his first picking, these little pieces from where his parents lay would remind him that he was loved—by his mom and dad, by his families in Zambia and America, and by a God who had rescued him.
Certainly Given had been given an incredible second chance at life. In spite of feeling abandoned and abused at the hands of a cruel trafficker, in spite of narrowly escaping a life of poverty and disease in Zambia and a life of slavery in America, Given felt that God had taken good care of him by redeeming him to a beautiful family, an education, and a new life. The faith he adopted in Zambia sustained him through his enslavement and continues to sustain him. Because Given has chosen to forgive TTT members, he now lives as a survivor, no longer captive to his victimization. In listening to him talk of his experience, one doesn’t hear a trace of resentment or unforgiveness for what happened to him. Instead of living a life of bitterness, he lives a life of gratitude and deep character, which has enabled him to soar to levels he could have never even dreamed of.
How Many Slaves Work for You?
Sometimes, despite our best intentions, we get misled. The Shepherds, for example, generously supported the Zambian boys’ choir before they knew the truth about what was happening to the boys and where the money was going.
We have all unsuspectingly helped to perpetuate human trafficking. We don’t mean to. Most of us have no idea we’re doing it. Those of us who understand the prevalence of trafficking in our Western society abhor the idea that we are unintentionally contributing to modern slavery. But understanding that we are part of the problem can prompt us to be part of the solution. If we have the courage to look at how we have participated and to challenge ourselves, we become an immense force for eliminating the human trafficking crisis that causes so much suffering in this country and around the world.
Each of us must be willing to utilize the tools we have available to answer the question, “What is my part in this atrocity, and how much am I contributing?” An organization called Slavery Footprint is prepared to deliver that uncomfortable information to you for free at www.slaveryfootprint.org.
I was afraid to take this quiz because I had heard other abolitionists recount their high scores. Knowing how much I work to be slave-free, I hoped my score would be very low. As I took the online test, I was careful to be honest but not overestimate any of my usages . . . and I was shocked at the number of slaves it said I employ. I don’t think the results were entirely accurate, but I am truly careful to buy local, fair-trade produce and other items. And let’s face it: even one slave is far too many.
But how can we change the fact that just being a part of Western culture makes us a part of supporting slavery? Even if we are careful and have dedicated our lives to fighting this atrocity, by our very participation in society we are supporting slavery. The solution isn’t to hibernate and live off the land in the woods. There are practical things we can do while living in the real world.
The first step involves simply becoming aware. Right now you can give yourself a pat on the back because you have begun reading this book, which will make you much more aware of human trafficking. As painful as it is, we need to think about Given and so many other people forced into servitude. Instead of turning away, we need to turn our heartfelt sympathy into empathy, which prompts action. We need to bear the pain of knowing and extend a hand.
Each of us can do something, whether it’s talking to our neighbors about the issue of human trafficking, donating time and/or money to anti-trafficking groups, or praying to stop this atrocity. But we also need to look at how we let this happen and why we all aren’t up in arms. That means challenging the hierarchy that has encouraged our blindness.
The Targets
Trafficking attacks the vulnerable—primarily women and children but also men such as Mexican farmworkers who lack social stature and money. It’s easy to look down on those less fortunate than ourselves, especially when they’re walking the streets in a sleazy outfit, cleaning toilets, or sewing the garments we wear. They’re not like us. They’re not at our level, so they’re not as valuable as we are. No one ever says it that bluntly, but our actions expose our hearts.
Sad to say, even Christianity (my faith choice) has often followed the cultural interpretation of the Bible rather than its contextual intent. Many Christians were strong proponents of slavery in America during the 1800s.
[Slavery] was established by decree of Almighty God . . . it is sanctioned in the Bible, in both Testaments, from Genesis to Revelation . . . it has existed in all ages, has been found among the people of the highest civilization, and in nations of the highest proficiency in the arts.
—Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederate States of America7
The right of holding slaves is clearly established in the Holy Scriptures, both by precept and example.
—Rev. Dr. Richard Furman, president of the Baptist State Convention, South Carolina8
Scary? These days the above comments are frightening, but in the 1800s they were the accepted cultural belief and almost universally supported among Christians. If you had spoken against slavery in most churches (with the exception of among Quakers and some Wesleyans, who took strong action to rescue slaves), you might have been ousted as ignorant of the Word of God and accused of not following Christian traditions. The church was equally backward when it came to women’s voting rights. Social hierarchies that allow others to become invisible because of their color, gender, or station in life are cultural values. These misguided values have been used throughout history to justify social institutions such as slavery and the denial of women’s rights.
However, before we are too quick to throw Christianity under the bus, we should note that many other religions have historically supported slavery as well, including but not limited to Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism.
“When bad things happen to men we say it’s terrible, but when bad things happen to women we say that’s just a cultural practice,” says Lou de Baca, United States Ambassador-at-Large, Office to Combat and Monitor Human Trafficking.9 Women and children constitute 80 percent of trafficking victims. Perhaps that’s why modern slavery hasn’t been challenged the way that it should.
The hard part about these judgments toward people is that we often make them unconsciously. I am probably the most nonhierarchical person I know, yet nearly every day I catch myself thinking a hierarchical thought. That’s how deep the conditioning goes. Even being aware of our tendency to classify people according to some internal pecking order doesn’t stop it. But we must continue to try. As we put aside the preconceived agendas and false belief systems that blind us to hierarchy, we begin to recognize slavery, as well as why it has been perpetuated.
Lately, however, I’m finding myself frequently asking a question: “If I’m to love my neighbor as myself, am I treating others the way I would want to be treated?” For me, this can be as simple as the challenge to leave the other person better than I found him or her. While that might sound easy or cliché, it requires a conscious effort each minute of the day.
Doing the Right Thing
I can do the things I know I’m supposed to do day by day, whether those are big things or just simple courtesies. That doesn’t mean I have a perfect track record, but when I fail I’m reminded that “I’m sorry” may be two of the most important words ever spoken, and I’m encouraged to keep trying.
Challenging our hierarchical assumptions helps remove our blinders and accept those whose lives may not be what we would wish for our loved ones or ourselves. We sometimes make a point of not looking at the sex-trafficked individual with her short skirt and makeup who is probably carrying STDs, or at the stooped-over farmworker laboring in the field. We can find ourselves feeling uncomfortable because of their presence, and their needs make us not want to think about them. But these are the very people who are our neighbors.
Since I’ve started doing anti–human trafficking work, Christmas Eve has been a hard day for me. As I scurry around with my last-minute preparations for the big holiday, I can’t help but think, “What about those being sexually exploited in a brothel tonight? What about the man who buys a sex slave tonight as a gift to himself for Christmas? And what about the woman he’s buying? She is a real human being. Is she hiding tears of pain under a hard facade? Would she love nothing more than to be home with her family, but is too ashamed of what she’s become to even call them?”
I would purport that protecting those who need to be protected, like those who are being trafficked, is part of loving others. No one in history better typifies this than Harriet Tubman.10 Born into a Maryland slave family in the early 1820s, she carried scars on the back of her neck from the whippings she sustained as a child from the various masters for whom she worked. At age twelve, she refused to help tie up a slave who had tried to escape. The overseer threw a metal weight at Tubman, which hit her in the head. The skull fracture she sustained would cause her to live the rest of her life with her head drooped forward and her mouth often hanging open. She would fall asleep in the middle of things for no apparent reason and was regularly called “stupid.”11 To those who owned her, she was damaged, devalued property, not a person.
It was after she sustained the head injury that her faith became real to her. As an illiterate child, she heard Bible stories from her mother. Tubman acquired a passionate faith in God. She rejected the white people’s interpretations of Scripture urging slaves to be obedient and justifying slavery as God-ordained; instead, Harriet found guidance in the Old Testament tales of deliverance.12
Harriet Tubman lived in minute-by-minute dependence on God throughout her life. Because of this, Tubman lived an example of a life of love and was able to value a person above her disagreements with them or even their abuse of her.
In 1849, she heard her Lord’s voice warning her to flee northward.13 Guided by the voice within her and narrowly escaping capture, she made good on her escape only to find herself alone and lonely for family and friends. There was no one to help her, none of her own folk to share her joy. Her entire family, everyone she knew, had remained behind in slavery. She made a promise to herself that she would make a home for her family in the North and help bring them to safety. “Oh, how I prayed then, lying on the cold, damp ground, ‘Oh, dear Lord, I ain’t got no friend but you. Come to my help, Lord, for I’m in trouble!’”14
She used her contacts and hard-won knowledge to bring others to freedom. Night and day she worked, saving pennies. When she had enough money, off she slipped from her home to rescue slaves and pilot them north. She returned to the South nineteen times, “bold to the point of brazenness,” they said.15 She delivered hundreds—and some say indirectly thousands—of slaves. She was so successful that a rumored $40,000 reward was offered for her capture, dead or alive.16
That was a huge sum in those days. But slavery then, as slavery now, is about money. And Harriet was really raising havoc with the slaveholders’ wallets. Many times Tubman experienced a narrow escape. Always, she said, the Lord sent help. Once she had to lie wet in a swamp. Another time she had to bury herself in a potato field.17 But deliverance always came, sometimes through a friend on the Underground Railway, sometimes through her own wits.
She experienced many narrow and harrowing escapes. As biographer Sarah Bradford wrote, “These sudden deliverances never seemed to strike her as at all strange or mysterious; her prayer was the prayer of faith, and she expected an answer. . . . When surprise was expressed at her courage and daring, or at her unexpected deliverances, she would always reply: ‘Don’t, I tell you, Missus, ’twan’t me, ’twas de Lord!’”18
Her boldness to lead slaves out of slavery earned her the nickname “Moses,”19 stemming from Exodus 25 in the Bible. She believed she had been called by God to help her people and once told an interviewer, “Now do you suppose he wanted me to do this just for a day or a week? No! The Lord who told me to take care of my people meant me to do it just so long as I live, and so I do what he told me to do.”20
Though she was impoverished in her old age, her spirit remained unquenchable, and by her incredibly courageous actions in what she termed obedience, she changed the course of history. She was a person who dared to love her fellow human beings unconditionally, even when she could have paid for that love with her life.
Might I suggest that we follow in the path of this young girl who was often called “stupid”? A girl who had no choices about whose slave she was. She was willing to overcome any and all obstacles to obtain freedom for herself and others. She then used past obstacles as stepping-stones to facilitate freedom for many grateful souls. She was courageous and stepped out in faith, and she lived an extraordinary life because of it. She had a steadfast love for others and believed in the best for them.
For me, working to end modern slavery is not even a matter of fighting for rights for the disenfranchised, but rather for righteousness. This is the right thing to do. What can I do today to help bring modern slavery to an end?
Have you been called to join in the battle, even in what you might consider a small way? If so, then it’s time to get involved in the fight—today!
When she took Given Kachepa into her home after his atrocious experience with the boys’ choir, Sandy Shepherd knew in her heart that it was the right thing to do. She had every reason to believe that she wasn’t the right person to help bring Given a life of freedom and the opportunity to develop his full potential. But it turns out she was the perfect person for the job.
As clearly demonstrated throughout history, the chosen vessels of change are men and women, people who see what needs to be changed and who summon the courage to speak up and do what needs to be done.
That held true during the abolitionist movements of the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries, and I believe it still holds true today. I believe we all have an obligation to recognize the suffering of modern-day slaves at the hands of human traffickers and slave masters, and that we can aid in their freedom in one way or another.
Fortunately, there is much that each of us can do to help, with little or no interruption or change to our lifestyles.
Speak Up!
There is nothing the criminals involved in the modern-day atrocities of human trafficking and slavery—the recruiters, the traffickers, the pimps—want more than for decent people to remain ignorant about what they do. All they ask is that we do nothing. Simple silence. If the myth that “it doesn’t happen here” can prevail, they have won.
Knowing that, one answer to the question “What can I do?” is to look for opportunities to tell others about these horrible abuses against our fellow human beings. We can follow the historical example of Harriet Tubman and the modern-day example of Sandy Shepherd, both of whom courageously spoke out against the injustices they encountered. Follow the historic examples of John Wesley, William Wilberforce, and Sojourner Truth, who spoke out against the enslavement of fellow human beings during a time when people didn’t want to hear what they had to say. I have vowed that as long as I have breath, I will speak of this atrocity.
If you become aware of a situation in which human trafficking could be involved, don’t just sit by and wait for someone else to speak up or act. Notify your local authorities, call the National Human Trafficking Hotline at 1-888-373-7888, or text “HELP” to BeFree (233733). This hotline, which is toll-free and open twenty-four hours a day, is staffed by specialists who will help you determine if you have actually encountered a case of human trafficking, will identify resources available in your community to help victims, and will help you coordinate with local social service organizations to protect and serve victims so they can begin the process of restoring their lives. The website is http://www.acf.hhs.gov/trafficking/.
Your words may or may not make a huge dent in the modern slave trade, but they could very possibly save the life of someone’s daughter or son.
For Discussion
- Did Given’s story of slavery happening right inside churches surprise you? How can we be wise against evil and yet gentle to those who need our compassion in matters such as this?
- Can you think of other ways people could have spoken up to facilitate the freedom of Given and others who were trapped by TTT?
- Harriet Tubman’s life was one that had an impact on lives for generations to come. Is there something in her life that inspires you to take a stand against modern slavery? If so, what might you do to take that stand?
- Can you speculate about why people of various religions have historically defended slavery?
- Find a recent news story in which someone took action to stop modern slavery and discuss it.