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Asunta: I know Who my Husband is!
Yet another open-air truckload of former slaves and refugees had made their way back down to Nyamlel that day. My heart sank as I saw battered old women and young, once beautiful, girls climb down from their perch high atop the bags of grain. The only way these women can buy passage out of the killing fields of the North is to sit on top of the 50 kg. bags of grain and sugar for many days, exposed to the desert sun. A guard sits atop the bags with the women to ensure they do not rip into the bags for a few morsels of life saving nutrients. Many do not survive the journey. Their fight for freedom is rewarded with one final indignation: the guard rolls their bodies from the top of the truck to drop on the desert floor without even slowing the vehicle. As the worn women climbed down from the truck, James and I followed them to a local compound where many hoped to find refuge. Hundreds of women were trying to live in a space designed for 10. The local Chief was in the midst of the women. He yelled for James and me to come near. James asked the Chief what the community could do to help the returning women begin to make a new life in Nyamlel. The Chief began yelling about having too many women to care for.
I asked her name. I was told, ‘Asunta'. I asked what had happen to her. The Chief quickly asserted she was one of ‘them' that he had taken in, but he already had 11 wives and she was ‘like a noose around his neck'. Asunta's eyes revealed nothing, but her head hung low in shame. I asked the Chief if she could return to New Life Ministry with me and share her story. Gladly, he exclaimed, “One less noose for his neck”. Asunta spent days with us quietly moving from tukel to tukel throughout the day. I never heard her speak or interact with any of the other women. I asked Asunta if we could have tea, and I would like to hear her story. She told me of the day her village was raided and her husband murdered – but not until after he had been beaten and forced to witness her be brutally raped by many men. She was genitally mutilated and bitten so that if she escaped, no other man would want her because she was ‘marked'. Tears streamed down my face, not Asunta's. Her eyes met mine with blankness. She didn't look through me, but although she held my eyes, there was no ‘connect' with me – or her story. One of the questions I always ask when documenting the stories of oppression and slavery is, “Do you have a faith or belief?” When I asked this of Asunta, she simply said with those same dead fish eyes, “Christian. Muslim. What does it matter? There has never been a God for me.” We allowed Asunta to stay on our compound and enter our Slave Repatriation Ministry. Her children entered our school. After a couple of weeks, her former ‘master' tracked her down. He came to our compound – demanding that we give him his ‘property'. The children she bore while his sex-slave were his ‘property', too. James and I met with the man and heard his demands. Asunta sat nearby listening to his assaults on her character for escaping. Finally she stood. Asunta cried out, “Don't send me back there! Don't make me go with him! Please just kill me here rather than send me back with him!” James sent the man away. The man made threats and promised to return. He caused much trouble; however, we prayed, held our ground, assured Asunta that we would protect her and her children. In the end, the man returned to the North.
Asunta has stayed in the ministry for two years now. In our Bible study this year, she declared to me, “All of us who are widows are the blessed ones, because Jesus is my husband and He is father to my children. Who could be better than that?” -Kimberly Smith, President
Through the Make Way Partners' Slave Repatriation Ministry, we provide loving care, discipleship, food, jobs and a home. It costs about $1,000 per former slave to provide this Incarnational care including building them a home. Please consider sponsoring a former slave or widow, or find partners to share in the support with you. Click here to sponsor a former slave or widow!
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After
hearing hundreds of tragic stories of innocence lost, senseless
deaths, brutal deprivation, I thought I had gotten to the
point where not much would shock me. I was wrong. 
That
is when I noticed the small figure next to him. Her face was
thickly scared from long, deep incisions. She was almost bald,
but it was her eyes that sent an aching swell through my body.
They were dead. Her eyes were like the eyes of a dead fish,
no life, no expression - dead. 
About
a month later, I was shocked when Asunta showed up for our
women's Bible study. A mission team had come to lead a course
filled with prayer, study, dance and play. It was more than
I thought to ask to see Asunta participating, drawing pictures
and singing. But nothing warmed my heart more than when I
began to see life slowly seep back into her eyes! At first
she started dancing. Then, as days passed, she began to smile
– pure radiance.