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Fountain at Kaštel-Ečka, a hunting-lodge turned hotel in Ečka, Serbia
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With only a month left in Belgrade, I’ve had plenty of time to evaluate
my experiences here, to see what it takes to actually combat human trafficking
in this region and to see if working in/with this region is actually something
I want to do.
My time here certainly hasn’t been easy, and sometimes, it’s
been downright discouraging. I’ve learned that in order to work in most
organizations abroad, you have to have a working knowledge of the language to
be of any significant help. I’ve been able to work on English-language grant
proposals and put together information about labor trafficking in the region,
but every meeting and training seminar I’ve attended has been in Serbian. Knowing
the language hasn’t been much of a hindrance except in being able to fully
grasp the opinions, thoughts, and understandings of people on the issue of
human trafficking. And thankfully, I’ve met enough people working with
trafficking who speak English to be able to get a better grasp.
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| Most Ljubavi (Bridge of Love) in Vrnjačka Banja, Serbia |
But that hasn’t been my only discouragement. Being in the
international development field (at least for me), makes it easy to go between
feelings of unrealistic ambition and hopeless resignation. One minute, I’m
dreaming about implementing long-term solutions to human trafficking in Eastern
Europe, and the next, I’m wondering if I should have just stuck with a
journalism career after all. Whether I’m in Serbia
or the United States,
these feelings often come from gaining the knowledge of what types of projects
will target root causes of modern-day slavery followed by the realization that
no one is actually bothering to carry these solutions out. Because they take
time. And money. Two things that, in our fast-paced world, are hard to come by
and not willingly or easily given out.
The overwhelming, and usually pessimistic, thoughts have
flooded my mind almost every day: How am
I ever going to learn these languages? What do I really have to offer these countries
and people? If no one else is actually implementing long-term change, how will
I do it? Should I just worry about taking care of the victims rather than
preventing more trafficking from, inevitably, happening?
After five years of dedicating my time, resources, energy,
and academics to this topic, it can be really disheartening. What if everything
I’ve done is in vain?
And then I have to stop myself—because ultimately what I’m
doing is not about me at all.
Sometimes I get frustrated in certain classes or even conversations because to
a lot of people, human rights and human development are means to an end, but to
me, these are the end. National
security, economic prosperity, global influence and power—these mean nothing if
a majority of the population is not only living in squalor but intentionally
being neglected. According to economics or security or politics, enabling human
growth and focusing on human rights may not be the most beneficial path. But a
human life is more important than even a million of the most valuable currency
on earth.
For me, that’s enough to keep going because I ultimately
know that this is what I should be doing with my life. I don’t know if I’ll
ever become fluent in Russian, or learn any other Slavic languages for that
matter. I don’t know if I’ll be working in Vienna
or DC or Pittsburgh.
I don’t know if my name will be someday known globally or only by my friends
and family. But it doesn’t matter, really.
