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Awareness Against Human Trafficking

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I thought that was my life forever. I didn’t know I had a right to go to school again,” *Amina (not her real name) recalls.

At just 14 years old, *Amina’s childhood had already been interrupted. After completing her Kenya Certificate of Primary Education, financial hardship placed her family in a difficult position. With no means to support her t...


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 Look around. When you are at the airport, bus stage, train station, at the quietness of a local market or in a busy shopping place, you will find this story. All you need is to see what seems to be invisible and listen to sounds of those who daily survive modern slavery.

The post


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Before I was anything else, a domestic worker, a migrant, a survivor, I was a little girl named Nancy. I grew up in Kisii, where the hills roll soft and green like those you see in a painting, and the air smells of tilled earth after rain. My parents didn’t have much, but they gave us what they could: food on the table, discipline, love, and the chance to go to school...


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I was born in the cold hills of Limuru, the sixth child in my family, and given the name Helen Njoroge. When I was barely a year old, my father died in a road accident. I never knew his voice, his smell, the warmth of his arms. All I had were pictures of him, still faces of a man I longed for but could never touch. Sometimes I stared at those frames until my eyes blurred, try...


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My name is Fridah Njoroge. I was born in Kenya to a single mother of six. Life was hard, and survival was all we knew. I remember the smell of smoke when we dried our clothes over the fire and the feel of the bare ground beneath our feet as we ran around all day, carefree and laughing . I left school in class eight. High school was just a dream. At fourteen, I went straight i...


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