When a personal or family emergency requires immediate funds the individual or family is forced to work for very little or no pay in exchange for a small loan. Because the debt increases faster than they’re paid a slave is trapped without hope of ever paying off the original debt. While it is rare to actually find victims in physical chains, the intimidation of powerful oppressors is every bit as effective a means of restraint.

There is hope (International Justice Mission):

“Madesh was eight years old when he was sent to work in a brick kiln by his family. His work at the kiln was both grueling and dangerous: his task was to mix the clay – which often contained hidden shards of glass – by working it into a soft paste with his bare feet. For this work, Madesh received just cents a day for food; he was not allowed to leave the kiln or take time off, and was subject to the physical abuse of the mill owner. Madesh remained trapped in slavery for 15 years, working endless hours through sickness and injury.

Madesh was released from slavery when IJM and local government officials acted to free the laborers held in the brick kiln. Upon their release, Madesh, his wife – whom he had married in the kiln – and his young son were given official certificates from the government verifying their status as emancipated slaves and entitling them to government assistance. With the money provided to him by the government upon his release, Muthu opened his own brick kiln. Today, he employs several family members, along with several members of the community and pays them all fair wages.”

Monday, 22 February 2010

First Person: "I never thought I would be able to leave the mill and then, suddenly, my family and I were free. ... All at once I could hope."
IJM client Chellamma* shares her story in her own words:

I am Chellamma. My father’s name is Nayan*. My mother is Neela. My native place is Red Hills. I was born in a rice mill.

My father took [a small loan] from a rice mill owner before I was born. Because of that our whole family had to live and work in the mill.

When I was eight years old I started working in the rice mill where we lived. With my father I would work … spreading out rice grain for drying. My brother and sister are younger than I, so it was my work also to care for them.

[When Chellamma was 10 years old, the family was moved to a different rice mill.]

The children were not allowed to go to school, but I took care of my family and worked with my father. When I was thirteen I had to start adult work. With my father and the other laborers I boiled paddy and raked the rice and put the grain into bags.

Every day was for work. We were not allowed to rest during the day. Only after the work was done could we sit and eat. Even though I worked so much, the owner never gave me wages. […] Knowing that my mother was dead and that my father’s health was also not good, the owner used to come to me and tell me my future. He told me my father would die. The owner said that when my father was gone, I would take my father’s advance and stay working at the mill until I paid the full amount. The owner said he would not let me leave until all the money was repaid. I thought I would never leave the mill. It was not possible for me to pay back the advance, even if I worked my whole life. […]

Context: What does the loan Chellamma shares about have to do with slavery? Small advance loans are often used as tricks to ensnare families in forced labor systems – this is a specific type of slavery known as bonded labor. Once a laborer accepts a loan and agrees to work until it is paid back, owners inflate the debt with false interest charges, refuse to allow laborers to see financial records, conscript entire families into the labor, forbid them from exiting facilities and often subject them to violent physical abuse. Rather than legitimate loans, these illegal advances are merely traps designed to ensure owners long-term, unpaid slave labor.

One day, when I was fifteen, IJM came with the government and brought us out from the mill. I never thought I would be able to leave the mill and then, suddenly, my family and I were free. Coming out of the mill, it made me feel bubbly happy. All at once I could hope. Since I was a little child I wanted to be a teacher. It was not possible for me to learn in the mill since I could not go to school, but I thought that if I was not in the mill I would like to return to my village, learn something and then teach others. Then, if I could teach, I could also take care of my brother and sister so they could learn.

A few months after we came out of the mill, … I came to an aftercare home and started to learn embroidery. It was good to finally learn. […]

I learned embroidery well and improved so much that the aftercare home hired me as an instructor. Not only have I learned but I also teach. Recently another dream came true – I was enrolled in a tailoring training program. Though I did not consider it likely, my hope has always been to learn tailoring. In my native village there is a woman who teachers tailoring to others. I wanted to be like her. Now I am learning tailoring also.

My life now is not like it was. When I work now, I am paid well and know that my brother and I have a future. In the mill, I did not look healthy or presentable. Looking that way made it hard for me to talk to people and to approach others. Now that I am free and like everyone else, I am not so shy. I am bold, and I am not ashamed.

I do my tailoring and my embroidery, and I am happy. My favorite thing is to see how the dark and the bright threads weave together; the colors blend and it is beautiful.

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