All young girls have dreams don’t they? I worked hard at school so that when I grew up I could get a good job and help my parents. Buy them all the things they never had. The things they needed. And I could have a different life, a better life.
Things were hard at home but we had neighbours whose children were sending money back from England. So when someone my uncle knew said that he could get me in an office of a restaurant. My parents said yes, of course. There was a price, they had to borrow the money.
There were 12 of us in a van. For 2 or maybe 3 days. We ran out of water long before we stopped. There was a baby crying and they said to the mother, we’ll throw you both in the sea. I just prayed for it to be over. They said, your parents owe us a lot of money, and you’ll work hard to pay it back. If you don’t, we will kill them. They take my passport and then it started. 12, 15 men, every day.
I got ill but still always the men, they come. Then one day they are moving 3 of us in a van and it broke down. They are walking us along the street and I just ran. Thy caught me but I fell to the ground and I started screaming. And people came to help. And then someone called the police. They arranged for me to go to a refuges that helps trafficked women. I’m beginning to get better. My English is getting better, and I’m helping some of the other girls. Most of all, we are safe. But I know that there are others still trapped like I was. And other girls in the same situation can be helped too. Given hope.
Narrative courtesy of Comic Relief
