.. I was warming my hands over the half barrel, used to contain our camp fire, that Friday night. A girl in a mini skirt and high heels walked past me and I whispered a prayer. "Hi", I said. She didn't acknowledge me, her pimp was watching nearby. The girls are kept under close watch throughout the night. We were camping out all night directly across from a brothel. The Salvation Army goes out every Friday night and prays for these girls and their pimps till 5am Sat morning.
Some of my team, (Exodus Cry) gathered for a walk up the road. Needing to stretch my legs, I ran after them to catch up. My heart has been immersed, saturated, and dripping profusely. With what, do I drip, into what have I been immersed, with what am I saturated, you ask? My heart has been introduced to, surrounded by, confronted with, poverty, desperation, and the means by which a women, man or child does whatever they have to, in order to survive, just for today. There are others in the same neighborhood that drive nice cars, work decent jobs and eat out regularly.
It was nice to clear my head as we walked. .. Little did we know what awaited. Turns out that the group wanted to pick up a few snacks from the gas station. As we neared the BP station, I saw several men outside. Blaire, JJ, Meagan, and Karen went inside. Myself, Dianna and a South African Friend named, Marishka (I am sure I spelled it wrong!)remained outside for a minute. Another girl was walking quickly towards us down the side walk. I said "Hi", and she stopped. Tears welling up in her eyes as she puffed on a cigarette, I sensed she was in trouble. I asked her name, and I am sorry to say I quickly forgot. Marishka asked her a few questions, and the girl said she was sorry, but she didn't have time. Marishka gave her a hug and I gave her one as well. She was so pretty, but scared and hurting... A tall Nigerian guy walked up threateningly close and asked us for a light. He spoke to the girl and said that he wanted a hug too. The young girl brushed him off, shook her head and walked away quickly. More guys approached us. The one asked, "so when are you going to introduce yourselves to me?" We introduced ourselves, and anger mixed with fear began to creep up in me. These guys weren't looking at us right, and they weren't just wanting to be welcoming. Another guy put his arm around my shoulder loosely and said, "what can you do for me?" with a smirk. Oooohh.... I snapped back with an automatic reaction, "nothing!". I added, questioning whether I responded correctly, "I can pray for you". The guys started asking for our names, then for numbers, we abruptly walked away and went inside.
Relief quickly shifted to concern when I saw JJ and Meagan propping up a man with blood on his jeans, and a wound on his knee. Further assessing the situation, the man, Jafta, had red-like stuff on his lips, found out he had been hi-jacked and shot. Am I really at a BP station at 3 something in the morning with a man who claims to have been shot??? .. I'll finish the story tomorrow. I am off to bed.
Queen
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