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April 11, 2008
SCRATCHING THE SURFACE

Before I left for Iraq, many people in the United States asked me, “What do you want to accomplish?” or “What can you possibly do there?”

Answering those questions is the reason I came. Now, the answers are beginning to reveal themselves . . . as are many other questions.

According to the US State Department’s 2007 Trafficking in Persons Report, “Iraq is a source and destination country for men and women trafficked for commercial sexual exploitation and involuntary servitude. Children are trafficked for commercial sexual exploitation; criminal gangs may have targeted young boys and staff of private orphanages and may have trafficked young girls for forced prostitution within Iraq and abroad. Iraqi women are trafficked to Syria, Jordan, Qatar, United Arab Emirates, Turkey, and Iran for the purpose of commercial sexual exploitation.”

While in Iraq, I have been in contact with the extraordinarily dedicated State Department officials who work tirelessly for human rights and child advocacy here. However, the political, legal, and economic chaos of Iraq cannot be understated. It is very difficult for these remarkable professionals to determine the current state of affairs.

Of course, we would all like to see the Iraqi government do as much as possible to combat child trafficking. However, according to the State Department Report, “the ongoing insurgency and terrorism severely handicapped the government's ability to combat trafficking…. Furthermore, the government could not offer protection services to victims of trafficking, and it reported no efforts to prevent trafficking.”

I am in total agreement with the US State Department that, “The (Iraqi) government should also provide victims of trafficking with protection services, and should ensure that they are not detained, punished, or discriminated against as criminals.” And that, “Iraq should train its law enforcement and judicial officers, and should take measures to curb the complicity of public officials in the trafficking of Iraqi women.”

Yes, the Iraqi government is new and currently overwhelmed with insurmountable problems; national security being the highest priority. However, isn’t the protection of children within the realm of national security? That is why child trafficking should be a much greater concern and focus for all the stake holders in Iraq’s future.

How bad is trafficking in Iraq? The Iraqi government does not operate shelters for trafficking victims, nor does it offer legal, medical, or psychological services. Iraq has no system for identifying young victims of trafficking among women arrested for prostitution. That’s why trafficking victims are sometimes put in prison. The Iraqi government does not give assistance to Iraqi victims who are brought back from other countries. Some of these were even punished.

Quite simply, Iraq does not take measures to prevent trafficking even though reports of trafficking are growing rapidly. The government does not sponsor any anti-trafficking campaigns or education.

An event like this will not only shed light on the hidden world of trafficking in Iraq and surrounding nations, but provide education and training to law enforcement, military and government personnel who share our belief that children deserve to be free and safe.

For now, I return to the United States to continue the process of opening Safe Houses for Child Trafficking victims in America. But, it won’t be long before I find myself back in Iraq.

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April 9, 2008
NOW I KNOW

I am lying face down in a pile of luggage. It is one o’clock in the morning, so I am not only surrounded by dusty travel gear, but by endless darkness as well. I hear the explosions of nearby mortar rounds. My body armor – vest and helmet – are not with me. It’s just me, these bags and the night.

Click Here to see Ray Bechard's Blackhawk Helicopter flight over Baghdad.
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And I’m thinking about what a young girl told me just a few weeks ago.

“Have you ever had anyone try to kill you?” she asked me. “At first, it doesn’t seem real. But then, you realize it could happen anytime. That changes you.” Yes, it does.

The girl telling me this was an American victim of trafficking in the United States. She had run away from the people who were selling her on the streets, forcing her to use her body to make money. She had run away and now they were trying to kill her to make an example of her – so that the other girls they sell wouldn’t run away.

“It must be an awful thing to know that someone wants you dead,” I say. She tells me, “You never stop wondering if that person is still trying to get you. It stays with you.”

I try to show her that I understand. But she has been to a place where I had never been. She had been in the line of fire with a target on her back.

The memory of her voice is interrupted by recording of another. Hearing recorded announcements at airports is part of the normal routine of flying. But, this is no routine announcement. And this is no routine airport.

This is Baghdad Airport. Yes, there is a commercial terminal here, so occasional scheduled flights arrive and depart, but very few. A helicopter flight over the terminal at midday reveals only one small airliner parked at otherwise empty gates. Yet, this remains one of the busiest airports in the world.

In fact, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, aircraft and passengers come and go by the tens of thousands. The activity never stops – ever, because this is among the largest military airbases in the world and an essential location in conducting Operation Iraqi Freedom. It is also a target for insurgents who fire mortars and rockets at the base routinely.

Right now, they are firing them at those of us who are waiting for a flight on a cargo plane. The plane is taking me to a meeting with some very dedicated people who are helping us investigate child trafficking here in Iraq. I walked out to the tarmac to load my bags onto a pallet which will be stowed in the back of the plane. That’s when the sirens started...and then the announcement. “Incoming. Incoming. Take cover immediately. Incoming.”

You don’t have to tell me twice. Completely exposed on the tarmac, I am nowhere near the steel reinforced concrete bunkers which are located all over the airport. So, I dive into the luggage. Now, I hear the rounds exploding nearby. They are aiming at us, at me.

I think of the young girl as I remain motionless . . . and wait.

Yes, it is an awful thing to know that someone wants you dead. The next time I see the girl who tried to explain that to me, I will look her in the eye and say, “Now I know.”

Raymond Bechard
Iraq
April 9, 2008

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April 7, 2008
THESE COULD BE OUR KIDS

If I am not on or in a US Military installation here in Iraq, then I am escorted by US Military Personnel. Each time I travel somewhere – anywhere – away from the facility controlled by the Army, at least one American soldier is with me.

And each time, the escort – dressed in full protective gear and heavily armed with an automatic rifle and 9mm pistol – asks me why I came to Iraq. I tell them I am here to investigate child trafficking. As I mentioned previously in this bog, their response is the same. They consistently offer whatever help Ahava Kids needs in our mission here. And they mean it.

The young man escorting/guarding to me now exemplifies the convictions of American Soldiers. In a time of confusion, doubt, and horizons filled with uncertainty– these men and women stand firmly on their dedication and virtue. They are filled with heart and soul. They are the good news.

When I began Ahava Kids five years ago, it was our intention to help and support the front line people protecting children from exploitation anywhere and everywhere in the world. Typically, these are small groups operating in the shadows, on the streets and in places few of us would dare go. So, we set out to work in partnership with these “little armies” to bolster their efforts to save kids from whatever evil they face. It didn’t matter who they were, as long as we had one thing in common: the goal of protecting the lives of children who are in danger.

I never imagined that our strongest ally in this fight would be the US Military. Certainly, no “little army.” However, once I began to interact closely with those who serve in its ranks, I realized a new hope for the children we are trying to reach.

That’s why I am not surprised that one soldier, just completing his third tour of duty with the 101st Airborne - the “Screaming Eagles,” is eager to get back to the US and join us when we conduct street intervention there.

That’s why I am not surprised that another soldier is compiling a list of all the orphanages in Iraq for Ahava Kids. At present, no such list exists.

And that’s why I am not surprised by the deeply emotional response of the soldier escorting me today. After I explained Ahava Kids and our work against child trafficking, he said, “We see kids in trouble here all the time. They’re in so much danger – so many kinds of danger. You know? And most of us have kids back home. But, these kids here - these could be our kids.”

Children are the victims of war in so many ways. These soldiers see the injustice perpetrated against young people on a regular basis – and they do everything they can to protect them. For these military professionals, there is no question about why they are in Iraq. They are fighting for something – something it takes very little time to see once you are here . . .

Right now, I am writing this in a dusty tent which has about ten online computers set up for use by military personnel and others, like myself, working with the military. The computers are placed on old folding tables and we are all packed together in close quarters, sitting next to each other on flimsy folding chairs. Typically there is a person at each computer, peering through electronic portals to their lives back home. Except for the tapping of the keyboards, the room is silent. This is a rare moment of privacy and no one violates its sanctity.

Next to me sits one soldier wearing an armored vest. His unit’s patch is displayed on his shoulder. His M-16 rifle along with his helmet, are placed carefully by his side.

I don’t notice his first sniffle. But after two or three, I realize it’s not the constant dust in the air that’s causing a leaky nose. I lean back to stretch and steal a flashing glance at his screen. Children. Photos of two children among the blooming flowers of spring back home.

I lean forward and continue typing. He exits the computer next to me, gathers up his gear and heads out quickly; his head down.

This is a strange war. Soldiers who are thousands of miles, and many months away from home can see and hear their children in real-time; a first for any war. But, they not only see their children whenever they can get to a computer, they also see them in the faces of children on the streets of Baghdad, Basra, Mosul and hundreds of other towns across Iraq, Afghanistan, and around the world.

Let there be no doubt. They are fighting for something. They are fighting for the lives of those who are crushed by intolerance, violence and abuse. It is not a matter of politics, policy or protocol. It is simply a matter of life and death.

Like the man said, “these could be our kids.”

Raymond Bechard
Iraq
April 7, 2008

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April 5, 2008
TRUCKS AND TANKS

"There's a tough little girl who lives on the streets around here," the woman tells me. "I've been here in Baghdad for four years. After that much time you see what's going on with people. And this kid has a lot of street smarts. But now, she's just trying to survive."

Just trying to survive.

The woman speaking with me is an American who works in an official, and classified, position at the U.S. Embassy here in Baghdad. It takes a special kind of person to work here for four years. Special, dedicated, and like most people who choose to be here - a little crazy. But, in a good way.

"I want to help this girl because she's so special. In fact, a lot of people around here know about her . . . and they're really afraid for her. But, we haven't seen her for a while." the look on her face is the same look I see on the faes of law enforcement we work with in the United States - the ones who know about desperate young kids who must fight to stay alive every day. Concern, anger, compassion.

But, ther are other similarities. Many others.

In the United States we are seeing an increase in young girls working as prostitutes in truck stops throughout the country, including Connecticut.

The are forced by their pimps to meet nightly quotas - a minimum amount of money that belongs entirely to the pimp when she is done servicing truck drivers. The quotas range from a few hundred dollars to a few thousand dollars per night. If the girls don't bring back enough money, they are beaten up, or they are starved, or they don't get the hit of the drugs they need to satisfy their addiction. Pimps traffic young girls only to make money. And it doesn't matter what it takes, they must make money no matter what it takes. No excuses.

So they walk though the parking lots, waiting for the driver to flash their lights - the signal that they want to pay a girl for sex. The girls go from truck to truck, climbing inside, trying to meet their quota. To them, they have no choice. They are trapped.

The police who see them are no longer surprised to find 12, 13, 14 year old girls working the truck stops of America. And the woman I am speaking to now in Baghdad is not surprised what she sees here. "I've watched this girl beg for money. She's asked ME for money. But then, when there is no one left to beg." She pauses, her eyes looking down. "I've watched her go to the Iraqi security guards, the ones whose tanks are parked along the side of the road. She'll ask them if they want to buy some gum from her. When they say 'no'...she aks if they want sex from her. So, she goes from tank to tank.

I ask the woman how old the girl is. She shakes her head. "You know, with these kids, you can't really tell. They've been on the streets so long. They don't have the faces of children anymore - even though they're very young." Then she answers me. And I'm not ready to hear what she says."She's no younger than nine. But, no older than eleven."

"The worst part is," she continues, "is that no girl that age knows all that much about sex, or what to do to a man. Someone had to show her. Someone is telling her to go and make money any way she can . . . and it's probably her family."

Yes, the girl may be someone's daughter or sister. But, it doesn't matter. They are forced to make money. And like the truck stop girls in America, it doesn't matter how. To them, they have no choice. They are trapped.

The woman promises to keep looking for the girl and contact me if she finds her again. I pray there is something we can do to save her.

But, as I write this - and as you read this - she and thousands like her are still out there, going from truck to truck, tank to tank, just trying to survive.

Raymond Bechard
Iraq
April 5, 2008

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April 3, 2008
THE ROAD TO SAIDNAYA

“Sometimes I go a couple of months without seeing a kid. You forget what children look like.”

This is what one American Soldier tells me as we discuss the chaos of everyday living in Iraq. “But, our assignments change and then we’re in direct contact with more people. Then you finally see a kid and you realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen that kind of smile.”

I tell him why I am here in Iraq, to begin investigating child trafficking. I tell him about Ahava Kids and the work we do in the United States to rescue and care for young victims of trafficking. He is silent for a long time. His next words were spoken more to himself than to me, “I have two daughters back home.”

The soldier is helping me to find an orphanage here in Baghdad. I learned of the place through an NBC reporter who had done a story on young girls whose parents have been killed in the war. I want to follow up on these girls and see what has become of them. Unfortunately, in Iraqi society, orphans are often considered “damaged.” They are labeled with a horrible, lifelong stigma with very little opportunity to live a decent life. In the past, many became prostitutes when they turned 18.

Today, they are not waiting that long.

Just look at neighboring Syria. Orphans are just one reason why so many young Iraqi girls are ending up in Syrian night clubs selling themselves. Iraq’s neighbor to the west is now home to about 1.2 million Iraqi refugees, according to the United Nations. Some refugees, young teenage girls, are tricked or forced into prostitution. But, many are just desperate to survive. A recent UN report found that many Iraqi girls experiencing “severe need” become prostitutes; some secretly and some with the knowledge or even at the provocation of their family. One relief worker I met in Baghdad told me, “thousands of Iraqi prostitutes are working in Syria now.”

I tell all this to the soldier as we continue looking for the orphanage. Driving in Baghdad has its own risks. He is alert, professional and always “on task.” But he, like so many other American Service Men and Women with whom I share this story, is stunned by the realities of underage prostitution – both here in the Middle East, in the United States and around the world.

Not everyone wants to hear the full story, but he does. So I tell him about an ancient road in Syria which leads to a convent in Saidnaya. Christians and Muslims travel this road every day, seeking miracles attributed to the remarkable portrait of the Virgin Mary at the convent. Hundreds of miraculous healings are claimed to have occurred there. But at night, the stories change – and so does the road to Saidnaya. Because the Maraba section of the road is now known for the easy availability of young Iraqi prostitutes.

The soldier and I keep looking for the orphanage and the young girls there. We talk about how great it would be if we were able to find them and look after them in some way – so they don’t end up on the road to Saidnaya.

Raymond Bechard
April 3, 2008
Baghdad, Iraq

April 2, 2008
LET'S FACE IT

This is not a normal feeling for me. In fact, it took me a few minutes to figure out what it is.

Two people from the US State Department are driving me across Baghdad. We’re on our way to a meeting to determine the locations of orphanages in Iraq. The men in the car with me know I am in Iraq investigating child trafficking. I told them everything about why I am here, the problem of child trafficking around the world - and in the United States - and the mission of Ahava Kids.

Then something very strange happened – that odd feeling I couldn’t identify. Finally, it came to me. I felt comfortable talking about it all and they were comfortable hearing it.

Usually, when I tell people about Ahava Kids and what we do (rescuing and caring for victims of child trafficking) my explanation is followed by awkward silence or a few phrases like, “That must be rewarding,” or “I saw a movie about that once.” Then the conversation quickly goes onto something else – anything else.

I understand the reaction. It’s hard to hear and think about child trafficking. That’s why I called my book about the subject, Unspeakable. So now, I am very accustomed to keeping what I say limited to only a few basics. It makes the conversation more comfortable for them, and for me.

But, knowing the realities of what is happening to children on the streets of the world – including every community in the United States – and not being able to share it to the degree it deserves…Well, it’s more than frustrating. It isolates you.

So, it’s strange that I had to come to Iraq in order to find many people who are willing to hear about child trafficking and do something about it. Like only a few very devoted people back home – you know who you are - I tell them what I do and they don’t turn away or look uncomfortable. They want to help. That’s why countless doors of opportunity have been opened during my time here. These are professionals who care. They don’t avoid the war going on in the streets because they are surrounded by it and see it every day.

As soon as the two men in the car hear everything I have to tell them, they turn the vehicle around and begin taking me on a tour of Baghdad. “There’s a brothel over here by this bridge,” one of the men says. “Don’t take any pictures of it. It’s too dangerous over there, but we’ll drive by it.” These are the kind of people I have been looking for - people who have the courage to face child trafficking head-on.

It’s hard to show people in America that the war for children in the United States is just as deadly. Yes, it’s harder to see and easier to avoid, but it is real and we are surrounded by it as well. Here in Iraq, no one has the luxury of ignoring the war that is going on around them.

I am more comfortable here because these Americans understand that the battle for our children is being fought on the streets of Baghdad and Boston, Follujah and Philadelphia, Mosul and Mobile. For them, there is no difference. For them, there is no hiding from the realities and dangers that face children across the globe.

Raymond Bechard
April 2, 2008
Baghdad, Iraq

April 1, 2008
HUNTED NO MORE

During the height of Saddam Hussein’s power in Iraq, his sons, Uday and Qusay, decided to construct a place where their father could quickly and easily enjoy one of his favorite hobbies: hunting wild game. So, they forced a few families to give up their homes, demolished them, and built an enclosed, seven-acre hunting park complete with roaming “wild” game - all in the middle of downtown Baghdad.

Today I stood in the remains of Saddam’s convenient killing field. The young US Marine who escorted me there (I am told by his superiors not to give you his name for security reasons) explained its more recent history.“When the city was liberated there were still animals here, even a few big cats,” he said.

Then I remembered the story of US troops finding starving tigers abandoned by Saddam’s staff upon fleeing the city in 2003. The animals were quickly rescued and restored to good health.

“Now, we’re going to help kids here,” the Marine tells me. He goes on to say that a small, but very dedicated group of American Military and State Department personnel are bringing new life to this once deadly place. New life in the form of Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. Yes, after a very rocky history, Scouting is alive and well in Iraq

First established in 1921, Iraqi Scouting was ejected from the World Organization of Scouting Movement (WOSM) when the Nazis occupied Iraq at the beginning of World War II. Then, they were recertified into the WOSM in 1955 and enjoyed a more than 25 years of success.

Then came Saddam Hussein, and he had very different plans for his country’s Scouts. In 1998, after several years in power, Hussein converted Iraqi Scouts to Ashbal Saddam, “Saddam’s Lion Cubs,” his version of Hitler Youth.

Boy Scouts were being trained to become child soldiers.

Once again, the WOSM expelled the Iraqi Scouts, citing the fact that Saddam had turned against all the traditional virtues, traditions and values of Scouting. And now, once again, the Iraqi Scouting program is working diligently to become recertified, and this time they have their very own campground in the heart of Baghdad – once known as Saddam Hussein’s private hunting park.

Thanks to a group known as the Green Zone Council (GZC), an organization founded in 2004 by Americans serving in Iraq, the new Iraqi Scouting Council is an official part of the Ministry of Education, counts more than 150,000 young members – boys and girls – and several thousand adult leaders in all 18 provinces. “We’re not building the Scouting program for them,” states the Marine. “We’re helping them restore it in their own way.” Very true. Here boys are Boy Scouts and girls are Girl Guides – and they often participate in the same programs together.

As we leave the new campground, the Marine, a former Eagle Scout, shares his thoughts about the children devastated by war, corruption and chaos.

“While we’re here in Iraq, doing our individual jobs, we have opportunities to help in a lot of other ways.” He looks back at this enclave of hope, now filled with picnic tables and a growing number of activity equipment, including a challenges and team-building course. “We’re going to be here for a long time,” the young soldier says with absolute resolve. “It’s going to take at least a generation to give these kids a chance at the kind of life they deserve. Kids can be kids here and they can learn to stand up for themselves.”

It does not take politics to protect and defend the children of the world. It takes the courage and dedication of many people working together. It takes all of us doing everything we can to stand between children and whatever evils they may face. Whether it is in the streets of Connecticut or Baghdad, there are endless opportunities to rescue those who have been abandoned, abused and . . . and hunted.

The best place to start is where you are right now.

Raymond Bechard
Iraq
April 1, 2008

March 30, 2008
CHILDREN DESERVE TO BE FREE

My father, Raymond Bechard, Sr., served in the Army Air Corps during World War II. He was stationed in Saipan as a gunner in a B-29, flying several bombing missions over Japan. The enormity of the task given to his generation and the devotion and sacrifice they poured into its completion and victory cannot be overstated. One day, as my father and I were taking a walk while visiting my sister in Tennessee, he expressed his joy in the fact that his adult children now traveled the world so regularly; my brother as a pilot and I as the Founder of Ahava kids. "You guys have seen the whole world!" he said with pride and a little envy. Without realizing it, I stopped walking and stared at him. "Seen the world?" I said. "You guys saved it!"

I have often wondered what will become of us when the last of my father's great generation passes away. Will there be any character, strength, or honor left in the world? Will we remember what duty and loyalty are?

For the past several months I have been in close contact with today's generation of the US Military . . . and I no longer fear the disappearance of the virtues which make men and women great. These professionals are the smartest, most dedicated, focused and energized group of Americans I have ever encountered. They are far from home in a land that is harsh and a culture that is unfamiliar. Yet, they serve with unwavering courage while accepting extraordinary sacrifice. One example is the young Army Captain who is sitting next to me as I write this. The Captain's son was born 11 weeks ago in Alabama, yet he has never met him. He hopes to return home soon so that he can finally hold the boy whose photo now sits here on a desk in an Army tent in Kuwait.

As for me, I look at these soldiers the same way I did when my father told stories of his war - I am awestruck. However, this time I am a witness.

From this base in Kuwait (which the Military does not allow me to name), I await transport into Iraq and my embed with the 1st Squadron of the 3rd Armored Cavalry. This is an enormous operation with thousands of US troops either coming out of or going into the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Each of them has their own reason to see their loved ones again, and yet they are here. And part of their assignment here and now is to guide me safely during my investigations into child trafficking in Iraq. When I tell the soldiers why I am here, their gaze - already hardened from witnessing too much war for too long - becomes even more intense. Then, like the young Captain next to me, they begin to tell me about their own children back home.

They are dedicated to this mission simply because they stand upon the same foundation as my father and the millions who served with him: Children deserve to be free.

Raymond Bechard
Kuwait
March 30, 2008