bleeding heart burnout

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Sita put on her best red sari today because I wanted to take a photo of us together. I caught her by surprise, and she said she wanted to change her clothes, which took forever. So I was wondering what was going on. She’s so cute! Tomorrow I’m going to go to the photo shop to have it printed, and I’m sure before the end of the week it will be hanging on the wall in their little room.

Yesterday Deepti and I spent the morning interviewing 2 more women in the sex industry. One used to work in a massage parlor where sex was usually included, but now she only gives foot massages, which she likes much better. The things she talked about pretty much confirmed what we have already heard, but some other points of interest were that she used to get clients as young as 14 years old, which obviously made her uncomfortable. I suppose these were boys looking to lose their virginity. She also said that it was a woman who owned the parlor, and that she would pay off the police or give them favors such as recharging their mobile card to keep the place from being raided. Although the woman we interviewed (age 22 with a 5 year old son, no education, and divorced from an abusive husband) is still not making enough money to get by every month, she is much happier. And she is learning to drive as part of her training program at the NGO, so she hopes she can get a job as a personal driver once she finishes the program.

The other woman we interviewed cried through most of the interview. She is 22 with 2 children, one of which lives with her here in Kathmandu (her son is back in the village). The other night, her daughter accidentally started a fire in their room while lighting a candle (probably during load-shedding) and burned the place down. The woman was asking for donations so that she could get back on her feet—about Rs 45,000 to replace all of her belongings ($700). I felt so bad doing the interview because I could only imagine how overwhelmed she must feel right now, but she wanted to tell us about her work in the dance restaurants. She is a waitress, but because she does not like to cater to customers’ every need (allowing them to touch her, offering sex work), she gets paid about 2/3 of what the other waitresses do, and she’s been fired from two other places because she is not “outgoing” enough with the customers. She also fears being trafficked from the restaurant, because she’s heard stories of girls who have been drugged, taken away by customers, and never seen again. I would not be surprised.

I asked her if she wanted to ask us anything about our research or what I am doing in Nepal, and she said that if there is anyway that I or someone back in the U.S. could sponsor her child just to pay for school fees, that she would be grateful. She said she only works in the dance restaurant in order to support her kids, and now that she lost everything she owns she is back to nothing. I happened to bring money that day to donate to the NGO anyway, so I asked Menuka (the president) to do with it as she saw fit. She said she would probably use it to help some of the children of these women.

I realize now why I only ever have the desire to do 2 of these interviews a day. Or why sometimes I dread going at all. Listening to these women’s stories just sucks the life out of me. And I was sitting there during the interview, I thought about all of the emails I get from places like the Feminist Majority or NOW to “donate just $25!” so that they can send letters to tell a congressman how much his proposed policies suck, when $25 could feed this woman and her daughter for the next couple of weeks.

As Deepti and I walked out of there, I said, “Deepti, this work we are doing is so hard some days.” And she said, “I know, sometimes I think we need the counseling.” No wonder there’s such a high rate of bleeding heart burnout.

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Photos

Sita Didi
I'm a bit taller than most Nepalis.