VIDEO: Schoolgirls For Sale in Japan

This Thursday at 12pm EDT, Simon Ostrovsky and Jake Adelstein will join 'On The Line' to discuss this story. Ask your questions on Twitter @VICENews with #OnTheLine: http://bit.ly/1Sgvvn2 Japan's obsession with cutesy culture has taken a dark turn, with schoolgirls now offering themselves for "walking dates" with adult men.

In an effort to understand a growing underground trade of school-aged girls, Vice News interviews women who have been caught up in this sinister business. 

Turning Tears to Power in Nepal

Young girls share their life stories with photographer Katie Orlinsky at a rescue center in Nepal that helps victims of sex trafficking regain their freedom and happiness.

Regularly described as one of the poorest and least developed countries in the world, Nepal is a ‘source’ country for traffickers, and its most marginalised people are also the most frequently targeted. While its capital Kathmandu benefits from a growing tourist economy, in general the country’s economic potential (for example, through opportunities to develop hydropower) is stunted by continued political instability, as well as very poor infrastructure.

Rural Nepalese — some 80% of its people — rely on subsistence farming, which frequently does not provide a stable or sufficient income to feed a family. It is under these already difficult circumstances that the sweet-talking and cajoling of sex traffickers infiltrate and take hold.

Passing through the India-Nepal border in Gaur, Nepal. Nepal’s border police have been notoriously lax in stopping suspected traffickers and are known to be susceptible to bribery. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Narayani, Central Region, Nepal

Fake migration schemes are one of the most common ways girls end up trafficked. Job options are scarce in Nepal, and around 200,000 women leave to work abroad every year, mostly as domestic servants. Poor, rural women think they are going to be domestic workers in Dubai, but instead end up working as prostitutes in Delhi.

Seeking migration paperwork at the district administration office in Haidera. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Narayani, Central Region, Nepal

The sex traffickers methods are varied and unpredictable, which is why so many people fall victim to trafficking in this region, despite the initiatives and interventions of extraordinary agencies on the ground.

 Shakti Kendra in Kathmandu is one such shelter, managing to educate hundreds of girls. I met fifteen current residents during my stay, all survivors of trafficking to brothels in India or of rape within Nepal itself.

Founded by Charimaya Tamang — the first trafficking survivor in Nepal to press charges against her traffickers and win — all of the staff at the shelter are also formerly trafficked women, some of whom have been specially trained by Shakti Samuha in Japan on how to run workshops and look after their young charges.

Young sex trafficking survivors at the Shakti Kendra shelter in Kathmandu, Nepal holds up their favorite drawings. From left to right, “an angel helping a girl in need”, “an imaginary house”, “going shopping”, “a house in the mountains” (Photographs: Katie Orlinsky) Kathmandu, Nepal

The children living at Shakti Kendra take classes at the centre and are also involved in drama, weaving and jewellery making programmes.

A young survivor at Shakti Kendra traces a scene from an anti-trafficking awareness cartoon. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Kathmandu, Nepal

As a photographer, the Shakti Kendra shelter was an extremely challenging place to work. It has a strict media policy to protect the identities of all of its members. Still, I wanted to document the girls’ world, but it meant I had to be patient, and make a lot of images with turned backs, blurred faces and deep shadows.

An underage trafficking survivor rehearsing a play about trafficking at Shakti Kendra shelter. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Kathmandu, Nepal

In time, some of the adults opened up and let me tell their stories, but for the children, the policy was non-negotiable. Although frustrating from the point of view of documenting this issue, I respected this choice.

Trafficking survivors face huge stigma in Nepal, where the shame associated with the sex industry is so great that most survivors’ families don’t even want their own daughters to return home if they have been rescued.

A photograph discovered on the internet identifying a trafficked girl or woman could have repercussions — from an employer not wanting to hire them to a man not wanting to marry them.

Drawing class at the arts and crafts centre at Shakti Kendra Shelter. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Kathmandu, Nepal

I was by no means the first foreign visitor to the shelter, but it was hard to tell judging by how excited they were to see me. Some nights I would stay late to watch TV with them, and those were probably some of my most relaxing and memorable evenings in Nepal. I stopped thinking about the pictures and interviews and would just enjoy the company of the sweetest girls in the world as they tried to teach me Nepali and asked me a million questions on every last detail of my life.

[1] A sex trafficking survivor who works at the Shakti central office as a receptionist. [2] A sex trafficking survivor, who now works at Shakti Kendra shelter as a recreation officer and teaches weaving. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Kathmandu, Nepal

Growing close to women and girls who have experienced such a level trauma was difficult and emotionally exhausting at times. 

It was particularly hard with the children, like thirteen-year-old Sabina who had been rescued from a brothel in India just six months ago. She had a bright smile and so much love to give it seemed she might burst.

A Shakti Samuha adolescent group meeting in a slum area of Kathmandu, where staff members raise awareness about trafficking related issues with at-risk youth. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Kathmandu, Nepal

She loved pop music and called me ‘Katy Perry’. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she was the same age as my niece in New York, and how Sabina has already lived a life filled with more pain than I hope my niece would experience in a lifetime. Sabina dreamed of travelling, studying and getting a good job to help her family, who lived close by. She missed them, and talked about them constantly. What she had yet to understand was that it was her own family who sold her into trafficking.

Residents and staff at Shakti Kendra perform a play they wrote and directed themselves. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Kathmandu, Nepal

Trafficking in Nepal is not only something that can be managed and prevented, it can end, and it can happen within our lifetime.

It starts with the work of anti-trafficking survivor-run organisations like Shakti Kendra. These women have the motivation, ability, sensitivity and understanding to tackle the issue from all angles, from prevention and rescue, to prosecution and rehabilitation. They will not shy away from fighting to identify and imprison traffickers and their collaborators, from small-time pimps to local police to family members.

One day these young girls at the centre will take their place as the next generation’s leaders in the fight against trafficking.

Young residents dancing at the Shakti Kendra shelter. (Photograph: Katie Orlinsky) Kathmandu, Nepal

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MAPTIA 

WRITTEN BY THE LEGATUM FOUNDATION

INDIA: A Café Run by Acid Attack Survivors Attracts Visitors from around the World

The women of Sheroes' Hangout serve coffee and share their personal stories. 

Ritu Saini, Chanchal Kumari, Neetu Mahor, Gita Mahor, and Rupa at the café. (Photo: Courtesy Sheroes’ Hangout)

The Taj Mahal may be one of the world’s top architectural wonders, but just a half mile away, a new destination is gaining attention: Sheroes’ Hangout.

“I was exhilarated the first time a group of Indian tourists who visited the café told me how much they appreciate my courage,” says Rupa (who goes by one name), a 22-year-old survivor of acid violence who, along with four other women, runs the café Sheroes’ Hangout. “Since then, we have had regular customers who come here not only to enjoy a cup of joe but also to talk to us.” 

Visitors to Sheroes’ Hangout always leave with a sense of fulfillment. It’s not only because of the cutting-edge coffee and delicious snacks the café serves.

Opened in December 2014 in Agra, a city in the north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, Sheroes’ Hangout started as a crowdfunding project by Stop Acid Attacks, a group committed to ending acts of violence against women. Its “pay as you wish” contributions go toward the rehabilitation of survivors of acid violence in India.

“Our visitors are mostly people from around the world who hear about us in the news,” says 20-year-old Chanchal Kumari, another survivor who helps operate the café. A man whose marriage proposal she refused attacked Kumari in 2012. “They come here to see how acid attack survivors like us are coping with our lives.”

(Photo: Courtesy Sheroes' Hangout)

Kumari, who is recovering from her fifth reconstructive surgery, works alongside Rupa, Ritu Saini, Gita Mahor, and Neetu Mahor, all of whom lived a secluded life in their homes for several years, dealing with the pain of a charred face and a scarred soul. Then they discovered "Stop Acid Attacks," a Facebook campaign that was started on International Women’s Day in 2013. Based in New Delhi, SAA works with acid attack survivors in India, assisting them with legal and medical issues and helping them deal with the trauma of the attack. Sheroes’ Hangout is one of its several initiatives.

Acid attacks are a gruesome reality in India. The National Crime Records Bureau, a government organization that recently began recording acid violence, estimates that more than 1,000 such crimes are committed around the country every year, though the majority of attacks go unreported because of the shame the girl and her family feel and the fear of being attacked again.

SAA has been collecting data through its volunteers across the country and has information on 430 survivors, 350 of whom were attacked in the last two years. It is in touch with, and has assisted, more than 70 of them. According to the data collected, about 70 percent of victims are women, more than 50 percent of whom are attacked by spurned lovers. One of the biggest reasons behind the high rate of acid attacks is the lack of laws against the free sale of acid in India—a liter can be purchased for just 50 cents.

SAA wanted to do something for Gita Mahor, 42, and her daughter Neetu, 26, who were attacked with acid 23 years ago by Mahor’s husband, Neetu’s father. Both were left with mutilated faces and limited vision. Neetu’s one-year-old sister was sleeping next to her during the attack and succumbed to the injuries the acid caused to her. With no one else to support them, mother and daughter were forced to continue living with their assailant. To relieve them from their everyday distress and further domestic violence, SAA found it important to provide them an avenue of earning a livelihood so they could gradually move away from their home and lead a happier life.
“Acid attack survivors’ lives become even more traumatic when they start facing rejection from society due to their disfigured faces. They need someone to hold their hand and restore their self-confidence,” says SAA founder Alok Dixit.

Today, Mahor and Neetu dress up every morning and go to the café to serve coffee and treats—and share their stories with customers.

One of the objectives of SAA at Sheroes’ Hangout was to provide skills training in the subject that each survivor was interested in learning. With SAA’s help, Mahor took a baking course at a hotel in Agra and will soon be serving cookies and cupcakes to customers. Neetu, who is almost blind, is taking singing lessons from an SAA volunteer. “I love to welcome the guests at the café cheerfully, so that they know we are coping well,” she says.

Saini, 19, played volleyball for India before suffering an acid attack by a male cousin in 2012 over a family property dispute, resulting in the loss of her left eye. She is unable to compete in the sport anymore, and she now handles accounts at the café. “My life changed ever since I joined SAA,” she says. “With the emotional support I received, I regained the confidence to go out with my face uncovered. Now I don’t care what people think of my disfigured face.”

Rupa—whose stepmother attacked her with acid when she was just 12—is a skilled tailor and an amateur apparel designer. The outfits she designs are exhibited and sold at the café. “Sheroes’ Hangout is not only giving us a chance to move our lives forward; it is also getting our stories out,” she says.

“True that,” says customer Shikha Singh, 20, a student of fashion design who finds herself in the café at least once a week. “I would never have known about the reality behind acid attack survivors had I not met these women. It is amazing the way they are working to fulfill their dreams despite the hurdles. I now prefer to spend on Sheroes’ Hangout rather than a McDonald’s or KFC. At least I’m sure the money will be used for a good cause.”

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON TAKEPART

 

PRITI SALIAN

@Priti_Salian

Priti is a Bangalore-based journalist whose work has appeared in The Christian Science Monitor, The Women's International Perspective, The National, Femina.in, Prevention, Discover India, and many other publications. 

SOUTH KOREA: Surfing the Demilitarized Zone

38th Parallel Beach is located just 50 kilometres south of one of the most dangerous places on Earth — the line dividing North and South Korea. 


Known as sahm-parl in Korean (the numbers 3 and 8), 38th Parallel Beach is a harbour, military base, beach and a highway rest stop. Weary travelers can stop for strong, sweet coffee, spicy food and tacky souvenirs. They can inspect the coastline and enjoy the rare beauty of the Gangwando coastline. Today it is also a rather unusual surfing spot.

While living in Seoul working as a university teacher, I spent three years photographing and surfing with the Korean and foreign surfers who were establishing the area as a legitimate surfing community.

I was drawn in by bar tales spun by roughish Australians who said they had surfed with local Koreans in blizzards, but pre-Facebook and iPhones, proof was murky. Poor photos of clean waves in deep snow and a complex myriad of forecasting and unreliable local bus info made it even more confusing. Eventually these rumours led me down a three-hour stretch of highway from Seoul to the 38th Parallel on Korea’s east coast.

As I left, my Korean co-workers giggled at me for coming to the country with a surfboard, but a peninsula must have wind I thought — and where there is wind and water, well, there must be waves.

Arriving at a protected harbour I could immediately see some small but nicely shaped waves, peeling intermittently down a well-defined bank. I was impressed and could see its potential, so we jumped in.

It was a fun spot. Surprisingly, when we came in a film camera was shooting us as we came up the beach together. Turns out they were filming a commercial for nuclear waste storage and our water exit appealed to them. I posed for a photo with the bespectacled producer and later learned that we had made it into the commercial.

38th Parallel beach felt special from day one and this slightly surreal first experience would set the tone for my future visits.

In the months to come, I discovered some of the best waves I had seen in the country, and to my surprise there were a lot of surfers, too. Koreans, Kiwi surf rats, and even some wobbly Nova Scotians, all hunting for peaks to break the grind of Korean ex-pat life. The good surf days remain particularly vivid in my mind because my lowered expectations only amplified my ‘stoke’. The surf and culture on the east coast of Korea surprised me and my experiences were in a word, unique.

Surfing in Korea is tinged with madness and magic. Koreans tend to go full throttle with everything they do, and surfing is no different.

On a weekend, the line-up resembles a chaotic Korean market place with people and boards going every direction. Korea is small country with an enormous amount of people, so fighting for your position is a way of life and the surfing line-up is no different. Luckily, over 3ft Mother Nature takes control of the space politics and the line-up clears out significantly.

South Korea has gotten the surf bug badly, and 38th Parallel Beach has fast become a hub for Seoul’s young jet-setting surfer class, traveling down through scenic Gangwando to reach this barbed wired bay.

On any given day, and in any of Korea’s four distinct and extreme seasons, you will see trendies, gangsters, Hongdae hipsters, Gangnam DJs, and foreign English teachers all jostling for a wave.

The car park overflows on every swell with Seoul surfers chain-smoking in the latest gear and waxing up only the hippest of shapes. Koreans love to do things together, be it banquet-style eating, all night drinking, or raucous socialising. Surfing has become another activity to share and the entire culture is geared up for it with various surf stores and camps along the coast catering to the dedicated Seoul surfing clique.

With some of the most consistent and powerful waves in the country and with ever improving forecasting technology, modern social media and South Korean connectivity, the short lived swells that originate in the East Sea are no longer left un-surfed, even in the deepest of winter.

Koreans adore trends, and the newest trend, surfing is red hot. The surf community at 38th Parallel Beach has grown rapidly, enjoying a strange co-existence with the local fishing community and the ever-present ROK (Republic of Korea) defence force, who have been protecting South Korea from the distant threat of a North Korean attack or DPRK defectors since the 1950s.  

Being a lifelong surfer, the mixture of this semi-remote location, the exotic culture, and these three dramatically different groups all occupying the same space is incredible to me. Over the next few years I tried to spend as much time as I could out at 38th Parallel Beach, getting my surf fix and capturing the amazing and strange things I saw.

 

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MAPTIA

 

Shannon Aston

www.shannonaston.com

Shannon Aston is a world traveler, surfer, and photographer from New Zealand.