"It was good to leave the chaos and noise of Kathmandu and head for the green and quiet of rural Hetauda. As probably the only four Westerners here, sore thumbs spring to mind. But a short rickshaw ride to the market, soon produced smiles, waves, calls of 'Namaste' and "How are you?' from the local people.
We were equally welcomed to the Refuge, where 'room service' brings tea and breakfast with beautiful smiles every morning. There's no running water after 10am and the loo flushes with a bucket and jug, but the air conditioning – a roof fan – keeps the room cool as it is hotter here that Kathmandu. The humidity is high and any clothes left out of the rucksack feel damp after a short while.
Our introduction to the children was to visit some of their homes. The first was a simple wooden structure with nothing but the ground inside. Six pairs of tiny eyes looked back into our disbelieving ones and we saw six small boys, one in just a hemp shirt, another in ragged trousers and all with nothing to do. These children do not go to school but they had a cow.
As we moved on, the truck got stuck in the mud – this is the monsoon season – on a track through the rice fields and several people quickly appeared to push. A short walk and we were looking at another wooden structure, well built and solid this time, but a single room where the lady, her husband, their children, his parents and his brothers all live. This was a good home, they work hard and grow crops, the children go to school and they have their own animals. With help from EBT they grow mushrooms.
Finally, we left the truck at the main road and climbed steeply for half an hour into the jungle. These people have only just started coming out of the jungle, but they would not be given land or work if they went down into the valley. The home was another single roomed, wooden, poorly constructed, building. There were nine children here, 7 of whom had just made the journey down that we had just made up, to wash in the river and collect water. The mother was heating maize in the corner of the hut. She rolled tobacco into a leaf and showed us how she lit it from a piece of burning timber. She smoked it and told us that it takes away the hunger when there's no food. She chatted animatedly to the staff with us. They said later she would have kept them there for hours because she will not see anyone until they return. She was offering maize to each of us, so we left. We could not refuse the maize, but how could we take it? This was all this family had – none of us had ever experienced having literally, nothing, before.
I had not realised the extent of the work that EBT does in retaining contact with these families. Regular visits and support, help them be in a position to have their children back or at least have them to visit for awhile. And it is this regular contact, plus the successful prosecutions, that have driven the agents out of the areas we visited.
Our first day of mosaic class started at 10am. 9 girls and 2 'teachers' from Philip's studio in Kathmandu, assembled on the floor of an upstairs room. Sitting crouched or cross legged, the girls are totally engrossed in cutting the tiles and fitting the shapes into their designs. Birds, butterflies, apples and trees start taking shape and we are amazed at their level of concentration as class goes on until 4pm and no one leaves!
When we're in our rooms there is a constant stream of girls appearing at the door – they won't come in without being asked but they fascinated by our fairer complexion and shorter hairstyles. Those studying English are enjoying practising it with us and the rest laugh at my attempt at Nepali, but they are patient and help me learn too."
It is easy reading this to understand how traffickers find the villagers such easy prey. Someone said to me the other day that teenage girls trafficked into the sex trade in Kathmandu receive clothes, make up and a mobile phone. If they are returned home they are sent out to collect wood in the jungle.
