Circus kathmandu
Meet the first circus in nepal to be set up by survivors of child trafficking.
Tens of millions of humans are trafficked every year – sold into slavery; forced into prostitution; purchased as child brides; or harvested for organs. There are 10 times more slaves in the world now than there were at the height of slavery in America. In fact, the Global Slavery Index pegs the total number of people in captivity at around 46 million. Nearly a quarter of those are children.
For anyone living in the First World, the very notion of human trafficking is horrendous, to the extent that it’s hard to imagine. But then you meet a pair of young women like Shital Ghimire and Saraswoti Adhikari – lively circus performers from Nepal, touring the world with their self-made company – and discover not only what it means to be sold, but also what it means to be freed. They’ve come to Australia as part of an exchange with Women’s Circus – a not-for-profit feminist arts organisation based in Footscray, a thriving creative suburb of Melbourne. In the Women’s Circus training space – a converted drill hall – Shital and Saraswoti learn rope-jumping skills. Their Nepalese interpreter translates the instructions from the facilitator to the girls, and joins in the activities, too. It’s just like lunchtime skipping sessions in primary school, only everyone here is an adult, and the Double Dutch is a bit more full on. Explosions of laughter follow everyone’s mistakes, and applause follows successful executions. “This is their happiest moment,” the interpreter says of Shital and Saraswoti. “They love circus training more than anything.” But it was only a handful of years ago that their regular training sessions involved beatings and humiliation.
“When I couldn’t do the training, they’d put a rope around my waist and keep hitting me with a stick,” Shital recalls, quiet and detached. A life of torture was simply her reality growing up. In fact, Shital was so young when she was sold to an Indian circus that she can’t even remember it happening. “If there was a little mistake, there would be violence,” she explains, “So, sometimes I’d be like, ‘I’m a bit sick – I can’t train.’ But then someone would come into your room and grab you and beat you.” She never tried to escape, because she had no idea what she would be escaping to. When folks from a rescue organisation turned up, she politely declined their offer to take her away. Her reasoning: she didn’t know her parents. “This is my family,” she told them.
Meanwhile, in another Indian circus, Saraswoti (whose name translates to ‘the goddess of wisdom’) endured similar punishment, carefully doled out to those parts of her body that wouldn’t be exposed during show time – on the feet, for example. Unlike Shital, Saraswoti remembers the moment she was sold. Walking with her sister, Saraswoti, then eight, was approached by a man who offered to take them somewhere they would be provided for. “There will be food, there will be clothes,” he promised. So poor were the sisters that they didn’t even consult their parents – they just left with him, their youth and poverty exploited for a stranger’s gain. Although dazzled by the costumes, and not particularly scared to begin with, Saraswoti would quickly encounter the ritual brutality of life in a forced circus. Together with a few other captives, she attempted to escape. Twice she failed, then she gave up altogether.
“With all the human trafficking still going on, I figured I might as well stay there, and whatever they say, just do it,” she says. Married at 14 to the circus owner’s son, Saraswoti had two children of her own – both boys. As per Shital’s experience, the circus that abused Saraswoti literally became her family. Both
girls were eventually rescued and resettled in a hostel in their native Nepal. But for Saraswoti, leaving meant losing contact with her sons. Shital was reunited with her family, however chose not to live with them. “I don’t feel right when I’m with my parents,” she says. “I didn’t spend my childhood with them, and I don’t know whose fault that is.”
That time in the resettlement hostel would prove highly fateful – and not just because it represented their first step towards freedom. One day, some folks showed up to perform circus tricks for the many victims of human trafficking stationed there. Shital and Saraswoti, newly acquainted friends, decided to perform their own tricks for the crowd, and found that, although circus performance was inherently connected to a lifetime of trauma, they remained immensely proud of their skills. More than that, they enjoyed it. “We said, ‘We know how to do this, so why don’t we start our own troupe?’” Saraswoti explains. From that suggestion, the first-ever contemporary Nepalese circus was born – and it was theirs.
These days, in collaboration with several other survivors of forced circus slavery, Shital and Saraswoti run Circus Kathmandu from a small building in Nepal’s capital. Their shows encompass circus acts of a more traditional nature, along with a special point of difference: mini plays, inspired by their experiences of abuse. The dramas are intended to inform local audiences about the dangers of human trafficking – a crucial lesson for kids who, like Saraswoti, might easily be led into slavery with a basic offer of food. There’s also a message about circus itself that they hope to deliver: that it’s not necessarily a prison.
“Because of these Indian circuses, with the violence and the rape, that’s what all people in Nepal think circus is,” Saraswoti explains. “We want to educate people; build more community; and encourage people to join us, because circus can be good for you physically and mentally. It gives you meditation.” It’s also enabled Saraswoti and Shital to see the world. Circus Kathmandu has toured internationally (the girls are both chuffed to have a bit of a handle on English as a result). They maintain a rigorous local performance schedule, too, in line with their main goal: enlightening folks about human trafficking. “We plan to do 18 locations in Nepal this year,” Shital says.
Despite global success – and even starring in a feature-length documentary about their journey, the majestic Even When I Fall – Circus Kathmandu’s headquarters remain inadequate. They’re too small, for one thing. Then there’s the problematic landlord who keeps jacking up their rent. The girls admire the facilities of Women’s Circus, with their spacious rooms, lofty ceilings and decent equipment. “We’d like to have a space like this so we can hold more training workshops,” Saraswoti says. A new HQ is the dream, and they’re collecting donations via their website, circuskathmandu.com. That’s one way people in the First World can make a difference to an otherwise overwhelming problem with no immediate solution.
But what of the long-term emotional effects to girls like Shital and Saraswoti? Fortunately, Saraswoti is now able to visit her boys, and will regain custody in a few years’ time. That can’t make coping with her painful memories any easier, though. “Whatever happened in the past happened,” she says. “You can’t change it.” Shital adopts a similarly resilient attitude: “I remember the past; I have it in my mind. But I don’t want to show these things. It’s life. Sometimes there’s happiness, sometimes there’s sadness. But I feel strong.”