Street corner with a catch
“We are so b-o-o-o-o-red! The food
is disgusting! The smell is horrific!” I didn’t blame our Russian teenagers for
their desire to get out of the old American church building. They were having a
severe case of cabin fever. They came to see America. Their money burned their
fingers. Shopping was the most desirable activity on their to-do list.
The local bank employees called me
one morning from the bank, “Lydia, are those girls yours?”
“What girls?”
“I am afraid that those girls on the
corner are Russians. We first thought they were local prostitutes that we see
on our corner every day, until we saw that those girls were way too young to
make money on the corner. We do not want to upset you, but this corner has a
dark reputation. We do not want your girls to get hurt.”
I ran outside and I saw my Russian
teenage girls from the Summer Camp standing on the corner of 10th and Central,
in the heart of downtown Kansas City, Kansas. There they were in their tiny
shorts, revealing as much of their legs and hips as you would see people doing
only in California and Russia. Nobody would even think those girls could be
underage.
“Girls, did I not tell you stay
inside? Did I not tell you how dangerous this area is?!!! You cannot go out
without adults.”
“We simply went across the
street to buy some groceries! Big deal! This is 10 AM; this is not night! Why
do you always try to scare us?! We are from Russia and we can go anywhere
safely. Here it is like a village and people are so kind to us.” The girls started
waving at someone. I looked around and saw a truck driver pulling over to where
the girls were and a few guys across the street, waiting. They waved back and
grinned.
“Oh, yeah! I am sure those guys are
friendly. Go back to the church! Right now! Go, I said! I will explain to you
later how friendly they are!”
The meeting with the group didn’t go
well. The Russian crew was angry.
“Ok, let me take you shopping now.
Then I will take you to the Plaza, my most favorite place.” But the Plaza
didn’t impress them much either. Girls didn’t see America in Kansas City.
How often girls, like my Russian
teenagers, disappeared in sex traffic out of their passion to experience the
wealth of the West? My job was to help at least these stubborn girls to
appreciate real America without diamond jewelry and mansions. Kansas City
is the best place to learn about ordinary people who work and raise their
children away from temptations of the Western or Eastern coasts.
“We are bored! We want to see real
America.”
“This is real America. Deal with
it!”
From that moment on, the corner of
10th and Central went back to the natives. That I couldn’t
change.
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