When Hope Calls: A Human Trafficking Story

3:15PM

Margaret managed to run to the bathroom, blindly barge into a stall, lock it, and crouch down to the floor before breaking down completely. The tears flowed freely for the first time in many years as violent sobs wracked her body. The greater the emotional suppression, the greater the breakdown...and Margaret's inhibition had been protracted indeed. The strain of the past six hours had ground her stamina to dust, dealing blow after relentless blow to her morale. They had warned her about the pitfalls of humanitarian work and the signs of burnout, but never did she imagine that it would happen to her in a cramped bathroom stall in Thailand.

After fifteen minutes of unabated tears, her anguish morphed into self-reproach – something she had perfected throughout her life. This entire situation was her fault, a consequence of her delayed action, her incompetence, her inability to coordinate an effective search and rescue mission, her ineptitude in overseeing her staff, her –

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock on the door, and then Chariya's voice: "Margaret, are you there?" She made no reply, but hastily wiped her face as clean as possible.

Chariya was not one to give up, "Margaret, can I come in?" Margaret wondered at the Thai woman's ability to sound gentle and firm at the same time, making her statement both a request and an assertion. Her footsteps stopped in front of Margaret's stall.

"Margaret, I think I know how you feel," she began in a compassionate tone. "We all..." here she sighed deeply, "I think we all feel the same way." Margaret bit her lips as she noticed the tremor in Chariya's voice. Don't make me start crying again. Don't you dare.

But Chariya continued, "You are putting so much responsibility on yourself. It's time to stop blaming yourself." Margaret shook her head vehemently, knowing that it was not so. Mercy is reserved for those who deserve it; forgiveness for those who earn it. That's just how life works.

"There's no need to make it about you anymore. It's about Mya. Let us share the responsibility..." then Chariya started sobbing, speaking through her tears, "Blame the kidnappers...blame our culture...blame our corruption...blame me!" And with that final plea, she broke down and leaned on the door, then sank to the floor under the weight of her own guilt. And so the two women cried on opposite sides of the stall door, both on the ground, sharing a mutual grief that had taken too much of a toil.

Five tearful minutes later, Margaret opened the stall door, face set with a look of grim resolve. She wrapped her arms around Chariya in a quick embrace, muttered a "Thank you", then proceeded to wash her face. A slightly confused Chariya followed suit, unsure whether this behavior signified restoration or aggravation. She knew, however, that, as in all emotional healing, only time would tell.