Subject: [Stop-traffic] Alleged slavery in Detroit
From: Ann Jordan (Annj@HRLawgroup.org)
Date: Thu Aug 10 2000 - 12:54:39 EDT
Alleged slavery in Detroit
area reflects disturbing global
trend
August 10, 2000
BY AMY KLEIN
FREE PRESS STAFF WRITER
She slept in the windowless basement of a
sparkling
brick colonial in Farmington Hills, while
upstairs, a
couple and three young children lived in bright
rooms among new computers and televisions.
Once in a while, the young girl from Cameroon
was
allowed outside to pull garbage to the curb,
shovel
snow or take down the Christmas lights.
When she talked back, she was beaten, she said.
Sometimes with belts. Sometimes with
high-heeled
shoes.
And sometimes, the man would slip down to the
basement and rape her, she said.
The arrest of a Cameroonian couple in
Farmington
Hills late last month is the latest example,
authorities
say, of a flourishing, underground slave trade
that
smuggles women and children from destitute
countries into the United States each year --
luring
them with promises of an education, a green
card
and a way out of stifling poverty.
Each year, between 45,000 and 50,000 women
and children are trafficked as slaves into the
United
States from Asia, Europe, Latin America, India
and
Africa, according to a 1999 report by the
Central
Intelligence Agency.
Their stories take horrifying and tragic turns.
Thrust
into a foreign culture and speaking little or
no
English, some slaves are locked indoors for
weeks
at a time, forced to scrub the floors and walls
in
sprawling homes, repeatedly starved and
threatened
with deportation, say human rights advocates.
In more egregious cases, they are beaten and
raped, swapped or sold from family to family.
During the past three years, many of the most
high-profile and disturbing cases have emerged
in
the country's international hubs -- New York,
Washington and Los Angeles, cities where
diplomats bring domestic helpers from their own
countries on temporary work visas and end up
abusing them.
Recently, however, allegations of slavery are
cropping up in less likely areas, such as
Michigan
and Arkansas, underscoring the claims of
activists
that the practice is far more commonplace than
previously suspected.
"This is now the classic case that we are
seeing
again and again," Martha Honey, a spokeswoman
for the Campaign for Migrant Domestic Workers
Rights in Washington, said of the Farmington
Hills
allegations.
Since it formed three years ago, the campaign
has
learned of around 200 cases of domestic worker
slavery in Washington alone.
And, since police arrested Joseph and Evelyn
Djoumessi of Farmington Hills, two more local
complaints of domestic slavery -- in Oakland
County and in Ann Arbor -- are under
investigation,
said Farmington Hills Police Chief William
Dwyer.
Against this backdrop, the U.S. Senate last
month
passed a bill that would punish those who use
psychological force (existing laws punish those
who
use physical force) to hold a person against
his or
her will. The bill would also create a
temporary visa
to keep victims who speak out from being
deported. The House passed a similar measure
and
Congress is expected to vote on a bill this
fall.
But it may not be enough.
In search of an education
Three years ago, a 14-year-old girl in Cameroon
began a journey that would bring her to
America.
It is unclear where she lived in Cameroon, a
central
African country of more than 15 million people
that
is roughly the size of California.
And it is unclear where her parents are now.
The
Oakland County Prosecutor's Office wants to
charge them with neglect, arguing the girl's
presence
here gives them jurisdiction.
This much is known: Through her mother, the
girl
met Joseph and Evelyn Djoumessi, police said.
And
her life changed forever.
Joseph Djoumessi and Evelyn Neba came to the
United States from Cameroon in 1986 on
immigration visas. He was 29, she was 21. Neba
had a handful of relatives in the area,
including a
sister in Southfield.
In 1992, Joseph Djoumessi became a citizen; it
is
unclear when Evelyn Djoumessi gained
citizenship.
About 3,000 Cameroonians live in the United
States; metro Detroit is home to about 75,
experts
say.
The couple soon married and in 1993 Joseph
Djoumessi graduated from Wayne State University
Law School, but never passed the bar exam, and
instead worked as a computer consultant. Evelyn
Djoumessi worked as a pharmacist in Detroit,
police said.
The Djoumessis had three children in the next
seven
years. They made several trips back to
Cameroon,
where Evelyn Djoumessi's mother still lives,
prosecutors said.
In October 1996, they greeted a young girl at
the
airport as she got off a plane from Cameroon,
taking her back to their home on Arden Park in
Farmington Hills. The girl passed through U.S.
customs with an immigration visa but
authorities
suspect her birth certificate was forged --
perhaps
by the Djoumessis, Chief Dwyer said.
The girl, speaking in English, testified at a
preliminary hearing in 47th District Court on
Wednesday that the Djoumessis had promised to
send her to school if she took care of their
children
and cleaned their house.
Instead, she said she never went to school,
rarely
left the house and was beaten by both
Djoumessis.
She had seen a doctor and a dentist once in
three
years, police say.
Beginning in the summer of 1998, when the girl
was
15, Joseph Djoumessi raped her three times, the
girl
testified. The Free Press does not print the
names
of alleged rape victims.
"He told me not to tell anybody. I told him it
hurts
and he said he would do it gentle," said the
girl,
covering her face with her hands.
"She had grown accustomed to it," Chief Dwyer
said. "All she wanted was a good education."
Early this year, Joseph Djoumessi moved to
California to work as a computer programmer at
the China Lake Naval Weapons Center.
With his wife in Farmington Hills focusing on
the
final stage of her pregnancy, the girl seized
an
opportunity.
From a window, she had watched teenagers
playing
basketball and throwing parties at neighbor
Susan
Aschoff's house.
She began showing up at Aschoff's door late at
night after taking out the garbage or early in
the
morning, on her way home from walking the
Djoumessis' child to the bus stop.
At first the mother of four and the young girl
only
chatted in the doorway for a few minutes at a
time,
before the girl nervously sneaked back home.
Gradually, Aschoff said, the girl told of the
abuse in
matter-of-fact snippets.
"This was brought to me, I wasn't someone who
figured it out," Aschoff said.
In February, growing increasingly worried,
Aschoff
called Farmington Hills Counseling Services for
advice. They called the police.
During the probe, Joseph Djoumessi lived in
California with his 6- and 4-year-old
daughters,
while his wife stayed behind with the baby, now
6
months old. They put their home up for sale,
and
police said they believe Evelyn Djoumessi
intended
to join her husband.
The Djoumessis were arrested July 26 -- he on
the
West Coast and she in Farmington Hills -- and
both
are being held at the Oakland County Jail.
Joseph
Djoumessi, held without bond, is charged with
conspiracy to kidnap, kidnapping, three counts
of
criminal sexual conduct and three counts of
child
abuse. If convicted, he could be sentenced to
four
life terms.
Evelyn Djoumessi, held on $500,000 bond, is
charged with conspiracy to kidnap and
kidnapping
and faces a maximum of one life sentence for
each
charge. She is also charged with child abuse.
The couple's two older children are in state
protective custody in California. The
6-month-old is
staying with Evelyn Djoumessi's older sister.
Immigration and Naturalization Services is also
investigating whether the couple forged the
girl's
birth certificate, Dwyer said.
Lawyers for the Djoumessis deny the charges.
Bill
Mitchell, a lawyer representing Joseph
Djoumessi,
said details of the case have been exaggerated.
"Just because there is an allegation, doesn't
mean
that it's true or that it's even a crime," he
said.
The girl's biological mother and father wanted
a
better life for their daughter and handed
parental
control to the Djoumessis, Mitchell said,
including
the authority to discipline the child.
"I don't deny that there may be people out
there
who are taking advantage of those who wish to
come and participate in the glory of these
United
States, but I do not believe that the
Djoumessis are
these people," Mitchell said.
Meanwhile, the girl was removed from the home
in
February and now lives in an Oakland County
foster home. She is 17 and bright, police said,
but
only recently finished the ninth grade after
three
years without schooling.
A global crisis
From her three-person, nonprofit office in
central
Los Angeles, Jennifer Stanger has heard many
stories like this one.
Since the Coalition to Abolish Slavery and
Trafficking was founded last year, the advocacy
group has counseled 15 victims in Los Angeles,
helping them navigate a complex legal system.
It is
the only agency of its kind in the country,
Stanger
said, and it is overburdened.
Slavery, Stanger said, is more profitable than
other
types of trafficking because a slave is easier
to hide
and can be used for many years, rather than the
one-time profit reaped from selling drugs or
guns.
Each year, anywhere from 700,000 to 2 million
women and children are trafficked between
countries around the globe, used for domestic
work, sweatshops and prostitution rings, the
CIA
reports.
Among cases cited by the CIA:
In New York, a Nigerian smuggling ring charged
parents $10,000 to $20,000 to bring their
children
to the United States, promising better
educations
for the children. Once here, the ring forced
the
children to work as domestics.
A pastor brought Estonian teenagers to
Woodbine, Md., in 1997, promising to enroll
them
in a church school but then forcing them to
clean
roach-infested apartments and install office
furniture.
A group of hearing-impaired and mute Mexicans
were brought in 1997 to the United States,
enslaved, beaten and forced to peddle trinkets
in
New York City.
While sweatshop abuses garner more headlines,
immigrants smuggled into domestic slavery may
be
more vulnerable because prosecuting such cases
is
problematic.
"This is a hard thing to prove because it's not
like
they're behind barbed-wire fences or under
armed
guard," Stanger said.
Typically, the CIA found, people who use
domestic
slaves are Middle Eastern or African and bring
over
someone of their own ethnicity, promising to
send
wages home to the family. Often the
well-intentioned family half a world away is
unaware of the abuse.
The Campaign for Migrant Domestic Workers
Rights is handling two such cases, in Maryland
and
Virginia. In both instances, no criminal
charges have
been brought against the sponsors.
Christina Elangwe, now a 22-year-old
Cameroonian, came to Germantown, Md., with a
Cameroonian couple, using the passport of the
woman's sister. Elangwe wanted an education and
to see a new country, she said in a telephone
interview from Maryland.
"I thought they were really good people. They
told
me they had a lot of plans for me," she said.
"I said,
'I want to go to school.' They kept telling me
to
wait.
"I believed them and I thought it would
happen."
Instead, Elangwe, then 17, cooked dinner and
scrubbed floors while taking care of the
couple's
three children. She was not paid. The couple
told
Elangwe they were sending money home to her
parents, but she has not spoken to them and
does
not know whether it is true.
She said she was too scared and helpless to
leave.
Then she met Louis Etongwe, a Cameroonian
living
with his wife in Newport News, Va., who was
helping three other enslaved women escape.
A 46-year-old public school employee, Etongwe
spent months trying to free the women, writing
pleas
to U.S. government officials and ultimately
letting
the women move into his home.
"The first thing that came to mind was that
these
people are evil," Etongwe said. "I felt
misrepresented because that's not all
Cameroonians."
On Feb. 10, Elangwe ran away to stay with
Etongwe. She was free with no money and no
plans. She is talking to a lawyer about suing
the
couple for back pay.
She has given up on the idea of school, she
said
through tears.
Dora Mortey, a primary school teacher in Ghana,
came to the United States in May 1999 as a
domestic helper for a man living in Fairfax,
Va. She
agreed to help as a nanny and cook meals in
exchange for $400 a week and the promise that
she
could go to the library and continue her
studies.
Instead, the family called her "The Creature"
and
Mortey was awakened at 5:45 a.m. to work until
9:30 p.m., receiving only $400 over four
months.
"They embarrassed me and frustrated me," said
Mortey, 28, who eventually ran away and moved
in
with a cousin who lived nearby. "I am going to
stay
in the country. It would be heartbreaking for
me to
go empty-handed back to Ghana."
A better life
The same vision that brought Elangwe to
Maryland,
Mortey to Virginia and the 17-year-old girl to
Farmington Hills lures tens of thousands of
women
and children -- armed with work visas or
prepared
to slip in illegally -- to the United States
each year.
"There is an increasingly impoverished mass of
the
population that is being left behind or
eroded," said
Honey, with the Campaign for Migrant Domestic
Workers Rights. "We're seeing people being
forced
out of their countries to search for work."
Cameroon is relatively poor. In 1999 the
average
adult earned $2,000, compared with $31,500
earned by the average adult in the United
States,
according to the CIA. It's not unusual for the
poorest residents in African countries to work
as
domestic helpers for richer relatives, said
Nicolas
Van De Walle, a Michigan State University
political
science professor and member of the African
Studies program. And those helpers may often be
treated worse than if they were in the United
States,
he said.
But abuse is not the norm.
"There's nothing culturally that would
predispose
them to this," Van De Walle said of the
Djoumessi
case. "It would be a slur on Cameroonian
culture to
suggest otherwise."
But many Africans dream of a better life in the
United States, for themselves and for their
children,
Van De Walle said. It's a dream that leaves
some
vulnerable.
Taking aim at the growing problem, a
Congressional committee is expected to finalize
comprehensive slave-trafficking legislation by
mid-September.
While activists hail the bill as a good start,
some say
it does not protect victims enough from being
deported, particularly if they are in the
United
States illegally.
Meanwhile, in a foster home in Oakland County,
a
17-year-old girl is learning what it means to
be a
teen. She has discovered American clothing and
listens to boy-band rock, like 'N Sync.
Most of all, she is smiling, said Aschoff, the
neighbor who continues to visit the girl.
"She is the bravest young lady I have ever
seen,"
Aschoff said. "She was the one who made the
decision to change her destiny."
Contact AMY KLEIN at 248-591-5629 or
klein@freepress.com.
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