Kilis Refugee Camp, Turkey
“I’ll give you two hundred American dollars for your daughters.”
Amira stared at the man, horrified, unable to believe she had heard the man correctly. “What? What did you say?”
“I said I’ll give you two hundred dollars for your daughters.” He scrutinized little Rima. “Okay, two-fifty, but I can go no higher.”
Amira put her arms around her daughters, holding them tight against her side. “There’s no amount of money you can offer me for my children. Who would ever sell their own flesh and blood?”
“You’d be surprised,” said the man, stepping closer, Amira backing away. He reached for Maya but Amira swatted the man’s hand.
“Don’t you dare touch them!”
He glared at her, then smiled, his rotting teeth a testament to his character. “You should take the money. Eventually someone will come in the night and simply take them from you, then you’ll get nothing.”
“You stay away from us!” she cried, picking up both of her girls and rushing back toward Jodee’s family who were holding their position in a registration line while she had sought a bathroom for Rima.
“But Mommy, I have to pee!”
“Just hold it a little longer, honey.”
She spotted Jodee who waved. She rushed up to them, feeling slightly safer with Sami there. “We have to get out of here!”
“Why?” asked Jodee.
“Someone just tried to buy my children!”
Sami’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” He shook his head. “I took a stroll a few minutes ago and talked to some of the other men. Apparently children are getting kidnapped in the night. All girls.”
“What are they doing with them?”
“Selling them into the slave market. Sex slaves. A young, healthy girl fetches thousands of dollars on the black market. The younger the better. They groom them into whatever they want.”
“That’s disgusting!” cried Jodee.
Her husband nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, it’s reality.” He lowered his voice. “But that’s not all.”
“What?” asked Amira, terrified to think what could be worse than her daughters sold off to a life of rape and torture.
“There’s a rumor going around that they’re going to send us all back to Syria. Anyone who registers here today is going to be sent back.”
A pit formed in her stomach. “But where will they send us?”
“Probably into government controlled territory.”
“We’ll be thrown in prison if they find out where we’re from!”
Sami nodded. “The regime basically treats anyone from the eastern half of the country as enemies of the party.” He looked at his wife. “We can’t stay here, we need to get out of this camp and head for the coast.”
His wife’s eyes narrowed. “Why the coast? Won’t we be trapped there?”
He shook his head. “No, we’ll take a boat across to Greece. We’ll be safe once we get there.”
Jodee turned to Amira. “What do you think?”
Amira wasn’t sure. They were genuine refugees, and her understanding was that a refugee was supposed to declare their status at the first safe haven, and this appeared to be safe—at least from the ravages of war, if not from slave traders. “Who is spreading these rumors? Can they be trusted?”
Sami shrugged. “I don’t know, and you’re right, I’m not sure I believe it anyway.” He tilted his head at the children. “But staying here puts them at risk, as you’ve already seen. I think we need to take our chances elsewhere.”
“But how do we get out? How can we afford to get across on a boat?”
Sami leaned closer to her, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “I have money. I was a dentist before this and have been planning our escape for some time.”
“But what about us? We have no money.”
“You’re with us now. Allah will provide.”
Tears welled in Amira’s eyes as she hugged him then his wife. “You are such good people. I thank Allah at every chance for bringing us together.”
“Allahu Akbar,” smiled Sami, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders.
Amira smiled, wiping her eyes, happy to hear those two sacred words said calmly for once, rather than in a psychotic fervor.
“Allahu Akbar.”