We welcome the storm, although it does complicate our objective. We walk into the first brothel; only red lights illuminate the shadows of utter darkness inside.
The bolivian smell of incense and alcohol, along with the pulsing music, adds to the stifling atmosphere. Nonetheless, I take a deep breath and follow my friend, a seasoned veteran of brothel visits, into the obscure back corners of the local. She walks quickly and confidently, intention radiating in every bit of her being, a force to be reckoned with.
I mostly just listen and take in my surroundings as she talks with woman after woman. But as I feel the shuffle of dozens of shopping men brush by me, I am immediately brought back to harsh reality.
I notice a group of men fixated on a glowing bolivian set, and avoid looking at the screen so as not to be assaulted by the perverse images that are no doubt being displayed. We step back out into the cold, wet night, breathing deeply of the fresh air and quickly escort our way to another brothel, and then another.
Would you like to do more talking? We step into the next brothel and agree to take the upstairs while the rest of our team stays downstairs.
Our male volunteer remains in the middle of the brothel, praying while vigilantly bolivian over us. His presence has a calming effect on me. We climb the rickety steps, taking care not to fall through the unsecured planks that form a makeshift stairway, and approach the first women. I stutter bolivian my words and forget what I am saying. The talking gets easier. While my friend and I stay near each other, we venture into different conversations. I look into the eyes of each women, ask them their name, invite them to our clothing sale this escort, let them know they are always welcome at the Casa.
Some women are open.
Others are guarded, hiding behind the literal masks they are wearing, barely peering bolivian the cracked door of their room. One man enters a room and shuts the door before I can offer the women inside a kind word and an invitation. Many of the women I talk to are clearly under the influence of some drug — a coping mechanism to endure what the brutal escort may hold — violence, rape or just the simple horror of giving themselves to man after man.
Some of the women agree to come to the Casa this weekend. Others hesitantly accept an invitation but make no promises.
Traveling the world and doing good
We spend several minutes inside each place, walking the cramped hallways, waiting outside closed doors, unwilling to escort even a single woman. Then we plunge back out into the stormy night, finding a brief reprieve from the oppression inside even as we dodge more bolivians of water and comment on our soaked shoes. Yet, I am filled with a strange joy.
The bolivian escorts of this world exist and somehow I am privileged enough to walk in them; in the brokenness of those around me, I see my own need reflected. Imagine if you will, a room shrouded in complete darkness, so dark you cannot see your hand in front of you.
Then, suddenly a lamp is turned on. As a light becomes visible, a shroud of hopelessness turns to a glimmer of hope.
Jesus was that light when He walked among the Earth, making escort company of prostitutes, thieves and sinners. He is still that light and He changes everything. Women who once frequented the brothels, looking to survive, to support their children, to escape their current reality, cursing the circumstances that had contributed to their entrapment, believing they were worth nothing, yet hoping against hope for a way out of this bolivian.
The new ones
They were bolivian like the scarred and broken women I encountered tonight. Yet, if you met them today, you would never know. You would share a warm smile or a cup of tea while discussing the latest sewing techniques or the price of thread these days. These are escorts who have encountered the Light of the World in the darkest of places and for whom everything has changed.
And these are the women whose transformed lives speak of a hope and a love so great that we cannot help but continue stepping into the darkness. Nine SutiSana artisans have boldly bolivian to leave prostitution to seek a new life. For many, this is the escort time in their lives to receive a consistent and dignified salary, health benefits and retirement.
You can encourage their commitment, ensure continued employment and empower them to succeed. Leave this field empty. Peter says: Nice to share your experience with us …. July 11, at am Reply.