We land at 10:30 pm at Tribhuvan International Airport, Kathmandu. After clearing the visa & customs lines and collecting our luggage, we find a taxi and are soon whizzing through the quiet midnight streets of Kathmandu.

Our driver speaks no English, and we no Nepalese, so it’s already a game of chance as to where we will end up.

What strikes me first is the contrast that’s so apparent …run-down rubble-like dwellings sit beside extravagant storefronts.

Kathmandu is not what I expected.

Day two sees us back at the domestic airport and flying out to meet up with Janelle in the Midwest.

Here, we have our first encounters with the reality that is EDM on the field.

Today, I met the girls I’ve only known through case notes and got to visit the works.

We sampled momos at the EDM Café, and as the two staff members came to greet us, I realised that I knew their faces. I’ve seen their case notes come across my desk in the monthly reports just a  few months earlier … the profile photos then showed haunted, guarded eyes belonging to broken hearts, but now there is such light in these faces. The girls greet us warmly, their smiles broad.

The manager of this café is a story I remember well. She was sold into India and abused before being found, rescued, and brought home. She is one of the 2% that make it back after being trafficked. Think of that 20,000 go missing yearly; only 2% are rescued.  

She still has an air of apprehension, still a guardedness. But here, with EDM, she’s found freedom. She manages the café and cooks the most delicious fare. The gift of restoration looks like momos and autonomy here today. I can’t bear to think of where she’d be if she weren’t found and how she’d have survived without the safety net that EDM provides for girls like her to recover and heal.

Next stop, lunch with new friends. Oh, how I wish I spoke Nepali! We are at the soon-to-be-finished new Safe House. This location will soon have room to house 20 intercepted girls and be a safe haven for so many. It’s unbelievable to think that we intercept more than we can accommodate! There have been times when there’s a waiting list to get in. How can we turn them away ?!

Next stop, the current safe house – 8 young women pour out the open doors to greet us – smiles and a welcome gift of garden flowers and the customary red scarf before being ushered inside to tour the home and have tea with the girls. Their eyes are bright and shiny.

We have tea, and the other girls leave us. It’s just our team and a young girl, a little older than my daughter, who remains. She stands beside Janelle … out of sight, firmly grips Janelle’s hand as nails dig into her palms, and summons the courage to speak; she wants to share her story with us.

The curious expression from earlier shifts to uncertainty; her eyes falter, and darkness emerges. As she speaks, our hearts rupture. She skates around the more challenging parts of her reality and the unspeakable she’s faced, but I see it anyway. Her eyes give her away as they struggle to contain the tears. I see ache mixed with longing… This girl has been alone for so long. She has been rescued from a lifetime of horror and hard. Given away as an infant due to poverty and raised in a group home, she suffered  abuse at the hands of the man who should have protected her then, having done with her, tried to sell her across the border and was intercepted.

This daughter was abandoned, abused and almost sold, but now she’s found a haven—a home.

She tells us for the first time she has a family, hope and a future. She dreams of one day running a children’s home for other destitute ones like her. Dreams of creating safe havens for them to live, grow and dream. As she speaks of her tomorrows, her demeanour shifts again. The light comes back to those kind eyes, and I know now, to the core of my being, that every effort made here has been worth it. I’m speechless – once again, I know these stories. But to hear her speak it is something else entirely.

The girls join us again and proudly show us their training room; they are learning to sew apparel and sell their clothes at the markets. Independence is the goal. Free to write their own stories.

Then, we hit the road for the long drive further west along the border.

I’ve been immersed in Nepali imagery for years now due to my role with EDM, so what I’m seeing isn’t culture shock, but to meet the young women whose stories have touched my heart in the form of case notes is incredibly impacting.

The drive is 6 hours on some of the most challenging terrain. We stopped roadside for a meal, knowing it was likely too late to eat at the hotel. Boiled egg accompanies a bowl of soup consisting of chickpeas and spices, tomato, and red onion. We finish with Nepal’s answer to the humble donut – something that translates as “circle bread” and black tea.

Day three starts with a visit to one of the busiest border parks in the country to meet with the staff on the front line. The atmosphere here is nothing less than a bustling sea of humanity, hectic-paced and overwhelming as foot traffic, three-wheelers, buses, cycles and more fight for space and place. Eyes are on us as Westerners, and the intimidation of this place is tangible.

We are only present here for 40 minutes, and in that time, as we stand beside the booth, the two councillors are hard at work. They already have two young girls in the booth being questioned. A mother and a grandmother wait patiently outside the hut: they’ve been called to collect a young girl who was intercepted before our arrival. As I watch, the staff move quickly into the teaming flow of foot traffic behind me, apprehending two more young women while the other stops a third lady dressed in a yellow bomber jacket and high heels. These interceptions happen so fast. The girls do not want to cooperate with the staff but have no choice but to comply. The questioning process begins, and I watch as the yellow bomber jacket girl gives grief and attitude to the woman who is quite literally saving her life. In Nepal, ignorance is not bliss !! It is life-threatening.

While the councillors steadfastly combat the ever-changing stories of their unwilling rescues, I’m overcome with urgency. Their hands are full, yet while they save these ones – so many others walk past me and I find myself scanning faces wondering how many are missed, slipped through, and lost.

I have a new regard for our border staff. I watch these women hold the line with girls who do not understand what’s at stake and push back with force. These naive young women have been offered their dreams on a platter and don’t know that it’s the work of wolves in sheep’s clothing. These dreams are different from the dreams back home in Australia. They consist of education, finding secure work beyond day labour, being able to support their family, working abroad, and sending money home to help feed their siblings. They dream of a love marriage and a life beyond the confines of the poverty and limitations they have known. 20,000 women and girls are trafficked into neighbouring countries each year into lives of servitude and sexual slavery. They go from marginalised and disadvantaged to significantly oppressed, owned, captive, and abused. These girls that stood before me could so easily be a part of that 20,000 and are but  50 steps away from being lost across this border.

That night, we had dinner at our second Safe House. This location is full to capacity, with girls and young women rescued at the last moment. There is a welcome sign on the door, and the girls have proudly cooked us dinner. Hospitality is such an embedded part of Nepalese culture, and they do it so well. After dinner, we are given a home tour and spend some time hearing from the girls who introduce themselves and tell us where they intercepted. Some of these ones are from the far west of the country in areas so remote that any opportunity looks like salvation, and they jump at the chance of something more or escaping the life they know.

And then there are the others who, through no fault of their own, are caught in the snare of someone else’s schemes. Again, as happened before in our last Safe House visit, the group left us, and one young girl remained to share her story. 18-year-old, softly spoken, gentle-mannered, sweet girl who had laughed and giggled at our wonky Nepalese just an hour before now shifts her weight restlessly in the chair. The eyes that met mine without fear just earlier in the day now dart away and hide from my gaze. She tries to find the words but falters mid-sentence, and the Carer takes over. With the help of an interpreter, we learn that she was found in the process of being trafficked, that her uncle, after a lifetime of horrendous abuse, had arranged to sell her and was caught attempting to deliver her to her buyer across the border. The story unfolds, and this beautiful girl the same age as my daughter folds in on herself; tears roll down her cheeks, and her gaze is one of fear and shame, lost in the memories of what was. We learn her uncle has been arrested and that she can’t go back to the family. She is a resident at the safe house while she heals and learns the tools to rebuild her life. We talk about her dreams. This daughter has managed to achieve a year 10 Education. She dreams of finishing year 11 & year 12 and going to university.

She hopes to be a lawyer and work in social justice.

I now understand that the ability to dream is a privilege not offered to everyone, but it is a gift given in the safety of these houses. The opportunity to heal, to recover, to face the darkness and overcome it and in doing so, these girls become free to dare to dream again. And what big dreams they have.

Not content to live a life of victimhood but out to make it count and bring redemption to others who have faced darkness.

Nepal is a kaleidoscope of images, of realities, of lives. It’s so vastly different to my life in Australia. Yet…some things are universal …Everywhere in the world, children play, the working class work hard to make ends meet, and people do the best they can with what they have … however when what you have is not much at all…. opportunity to do better is scarce, or at worst, impossibly beyond your reach … where does that leave you?

Sometimes, all you need is a leg up. Someone to hold space for you, help you find a way to begin, or even begin again—someone to stand on your behalf when you don’t know how to stand for yourself.

I’m so thankful for the work of EDM here and so honoured to be apart of this . Its so clear that what we are doing really does make an impact .. The problem is so big but one girl at a time intercepted is one life changed, restored, and empowered to make a difference in her community .

So we continue to say, “Not one more, not on our watch”.