by Tim Swanson
Her name was Camala, and she approached us as we walked around the train station parking lot praying for the travelers. We were there to share the Gospel with a group of homeless boys that lived and worked in the train station. I was sad to hear that they caught a train to Bombay to do some fruit cutting work that had become available.
James, our guide and translator, spoke with her in Hindi which made it impossible to understand what was being said. My team members and I watched with interest as they seemed to be arguing. James was a characteristically happy guy, but as they spoke he was shaking his head and waving his hands at her as if he were saying "no". She seemed undeterred by his words and gestures and she continued to respond. At one point, James tried to just walk past her, but she jumped right out in front of him again and started talking.
Finally James turned to us and confessed, “She is a prostitute, and she is trying to offer a group rate for all of you.” Gross! He went on to explain that he was telling her that we were ministers, but she was very persistent and would not leave us alone. My team talked it over for a moment before deciding to try to share the Gospel with her. We told James we would like to have a conversation with her, and he relayed the message. She agreed. Our group leader tried to break the ice by asking where she was from. Her response was all business. James translated, “She says that you can only ask her questions about her profession.” She still hoped to land a transaction with my team. Our group leader quickly found an appropriate question, “How did you get into this line of work?” That was the right move. After that we spent an hour talking with her. She told us the heartbreaking story of an arranged marriage gone bad and her husband selling her into the sex trade industry at the age of 16. She told us about her daughter who lived in another region with a relative. Before long, my team started talking about how we could help. We asked her if we could give her money to get a train ticket and get away from the train station and back to her daughter. She declined. She told us that the gangs regularly beat her and took all of her money. My team chatted about the best possible option for the young lady. We quickly landed on buying her a train ticket and walking her to the train. We were excited about the prospect of being helpful. James, who seemed uncomfortable the whole time, turned to her to relayed our plan and ask if she was interested.
As he began to speak, she jerked her gaze to the side and without hesitation turned and ran away. My team and I looked to see what had scared her off. There were two police officers walking directly toward us. We did not try to run, but as the situation unfolded, we kinda regretted standing our ground. James spoke to them in Hindi again, only this time he seemed more panicked than anything. After a moment of talking with the police officers he turned to us, “they are accusing us of using a prostitute.” I suppose it was a fair accusation. We had struck up a transaction with Camala, just not the kind of transaction you normally make with a hooker. James continued, “they are just harassing us. I’m trying to tell them that we are here to bring the Good News, but they will not listen. They only want a bribe.” I looked at James and said, “Oh, How much do they want?” I fully intended to pay the corrupt police officers off and move on with my night. I reached for my wallet expecting to hear a dollar amount from James. Instead he responded, “No! We do not bribe.” James turned back to the cops and began talking with them again. A little worried, I tapped James on the shoulder, “It’s really not a big deal, we can pay them off.” James refused again and turned back to the officers only this time he seemed to be arguing with them. Before too long the two cops were done arguing with James. They looked at us and began to shout and point at the fence that lined the parking lot. They were telling us to line up against the wall. My stomach sank. I had heard stories of missionaries getting arrested in countries like India. All I knew about it was that it was a very long and painstaking process to bring them home. My team was reluctant to line up, which only made the cops more angry. They shouted at us and stepped past James with their batons in hand. We didn’t hesitate any longer. My team began to move over to the fence and line up. Visions of being locked up in an Indian prison took over my mind.
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| A picture of us with the train station boys. James is wearing a white shirt in the front. |
Just as they prepared to cuff the first member of my team, a voice rang out across the parking lot. Immediately after that two more voices called out. They were shouting one word in Hindi that we could not understand. But when we looked, we saw that the voices came from the train station boys. They had just gotten back from Bombay, and they were pouring out of the station’s doors and running over to us shouting the same one word. Their noise was really making a commotion. Travelers were stopping to see what the boys were yelling about. The boys ran to us, and paying no attention to the police officers they ran up and hugged us. The police officers looked at the growing audience of travelers that were stopping to see what all the noise was. They seemed to grow a bit concerned just before they turned and briskly walked away from us. As the boys shouted and surrounded us, James looked at us with a massive smile on his face, “They are saying the word that means Minister.”
That night was a close call. James had faith where I did not. He trusted God in the middle of a very uncertain situation. I learned some valuable lessons about what strong faith looks like on that trip, but that evening will always stand out in my mind. James put incredible faith in God to provide for us in the midst of real danger from some corrupt cops. James’ faith has been an inspiration to me since that night.
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| In front of the train station with a couple of the boys. |
After a very fond greeting from the boys, we went and tracked down Camala. A few of the train station boys walked with us as we bought her a train ticket and walked her to the trian. We prayed for her and watched her board the large blue passenger car. I don’t know how things turned out for her, but I know who we prayed to when we asked for her safety. We prayed to the same God that provided for us when two corrupt police officers wanted to arrest us for not bribing them. We prayed to a God who has promised to deliver, and indeed always does.
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