The new face of slavery

A weathered Asian grandfather looks around the Tim Hortons coffee shop for an empty table. I notice one next to me. Will he take it? He shuffles over to it. Is he one of the men who was trafficked, I wonder?

It’s been over three weeks since I heard about human trafficking – the sale of human beings – going on in my own backyard.

The man unzips his worn brown jacket and sits. Is that jacket one of the hundreds donated by people from Mennonite Brethren churches in our city who were also clued in to the trafficking going on under our noses? He takes a cautious sip of his drink, as his eyes dart around the shop. What must it feel like to have been conned out of more than $15,000 by traffickers who promised you would earn it all back, and perhaps even more, so you could provide a better life for your family living in Third World conditions back in Asia?

The man takes a big bite of his donut. He’s either a normal North American enjoying his donut, or a starving victim of human trafficking. Should I offer him the $10 bill sitting in my purse, the last of my meagre bank account? What if he’s not a trafficking victim? What if he is a victim, but feels ashamed when I give him money?

I plan my move. I’ll visit the ladies restroom and then give him the remnants of my finances, hopefully not offending him. I leave. I return. He’s gone.

Two days later, I see the man at a Sunday morning worship service. My instincts were right – he’s a victim of human trafficking, one of nearly 100 men and women in our area on the brink of starvation. The church is helping them by offering English classes and other support.

These precious people can’t find the agricultural jobs promised by their traffickers. Some live together in two little apartments in our city, wandering the streets in shifts to avoid detection by their landlords. Many owe exorbitant debts to unsavoury moneylenders back home who might do evil things to their families if one slip of the tongue puts their traffickers on the defensive.

Two hundred years ago, British parliament signed the Abolition Act, supposedly marking the end of slavery. Unfortunately, it continues today. Trafficking doesn’t just happen in Third World nations. Every city in the world has some form of it. I thank God for the groundswell of prayer, financial gifts, and advocacy from churches and non-profit organizations. The groundswell must increase.

I believe what Scripture says, that the earth itself cries out for justice. I want to cry with it.

Junius Polylog is the pen name of a member of a Canadian Mennonite Brethren Church. Names and details have been changed to protect the identity of victims. For more information, go to Stop the Traffik, which is creating a global coalition of individuals, institutions, businesses, and political regimes to stop the sale of people through raising awareness of the problem and equipping people to advocate change. March 25 is Freedom Day, raising awareness of the ongoing problem of slavery.