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News Stories
By Nicholas Wood 13 November 2003 DURRES, Albania, Nov. 11 — Fatmira Bonjaku's husband is
in jail, accused by the police of selling their 3-year-old son to an
Italian man in return for the television set that six other children watch
in the family's dimly lighted room. The police also say her husband had
plans to sell their newest born, whom she is breast feeding. Mrs. Bonjaku, interviewed at her family's two-room shack on
the outskirts of this port city, denied that she intended to sell her
newborn but admitted trading her son, Orazio, thinking the Italian man
"would provide a good life." Over the past 12 years, since the collapse of Stalinism
here, a substantial trade in children has established itself in Albania,
Europe's most impoverished and long most isolated country. No one has exact figures for the number of children
involved, but the government estimates that 6,000 children have been sent
abroad for use in begging and prostitution rackets, or in some cases sold
to Western couples for adoption. A vast majority come from the Jevgjit community, a group of
some 300,000 Albanian-speaking Gypsies, or Roma, who have fared even more
poorly than most. Albania's anti-trafficking police estimate that more than
1,000 children are currently in Greece, working mainly as beggars. One or
two Albanian minors are arrested every day on Albania's border with
northern Greece and sent home, the Swiss charity, Terre des Hommes,
reported this year, citing the head of the police's juvenile department in
Salonika in northern Greece. The trafficking is part of a larger trade in humans,
including East European women shuffled through Albania for prostitution,
and is an outgrowth of the misery and the organized crime that has
blossomed in this clannish society. In Albania most documented cases of child trafficking have
involved older children who are sold or rented by their families to
minders, or pimps, who take them to Greece and Italy, where they work as
beggars or child prostitutes. Many families apparently believe, like Mrs. Bonjaku, that
their children will gain better lives abroad; for several, too, it can
seem a relatively small step to send children from the streets of Albania
to neighboring Greece. "You also have to understand what immigration means to
most Albanians," Pierre Ferry, a child protection officer with Unicef
in Tirana, the Albanian capital, said. "To send your child abroad is
also a kind of success and does not appear as primitive
exploitation." In Pogradec, a town of 20,000 on the shores of Ohrid Lake,
which straddles the Albanian border with the Macedonian republic, half a
dozen young children beg on the waterfront on most days. Judy Mitstifer, 43, a missionary from Liberty, Pa., has set
up a school for street children in Pogradec. Many of them, she said, are
on the cusp of becoming child prostitutes and run a high risk of being
trafficked. "The kids here, we try to keep track of them,"
said Ms. Mitstifer, after approaching two girls, Bukuria, 11, and Bala,
12. "We know who buys and who sells. Our hope is that the school is
attractive enough so they stay." Ms. Mitstifer showed a visitor a school photograph of 12
children from 2000. Seven, she said, had already been sent abroad or their
families were involved in the trade. The proportion, she said, was typical
for her 110 pupils, three-quarters of them Roma. Lila Shuli, who herself begs a living in Pogradec streets,
sends four of her children to Ms. Mitstifer's school. Over the past
decade, she said, her family has been split up by trafficking. Lila's younger sister was married at 14 to a man from the
next town who later took her to France and made her work as a prostitute.
Nine years ago, Ms. Shuli said, her mother sent Lila's 6-year-old son,
Armandor, to work in Greece. He has not been heard from since. In an interview, Lila's mother, Kimete Sinani, denied that
she sold the boy but admitted to "hiring" him out for $80. Now, Ms. Shuli said, she is coming under pressure from a
neighbor who said he could take her son Fadil, 11, to Greece. The Albanian government has introduced public awareness
campaigns to alert families to the potential dangers of such decisions.
New laws penalizing child trafficking have been enacted, and policing has
been stepped up. Twelve anti-trafficking police units have now been set up
nationwide, one of which uncovered the case of the Bonjakus, the family
alleged to have traded their son for the television set. Albanian investigators in the port of Durres arrested Mrs.
Bonjaku's husband, Kjutim, 60, on June 26, along with two middlemen. They were charged with arranging the deal with the Italian,
Angelo Borelli, a 69-year-old pensioner, who was arrested by the Italian
police in the port of Pescara in late September. The Italian police say Mr. Borelli paid a total of $6,000
to the middlemen in 1999 to take charge of the Bonjakus's son Orazio, then
3. Mrs. Bonjaku denied receiving anything beyond the
television. She said she and her husband were working as street cleaners
when they were first approached by a local man, Gjergj Shkembi, on Mr.
Borelli's behalf. She said she was promised that the whole family would go to
Italy in exchange for Orazio. But that trip never took place. Instead, she said, Mr. Borelli himself came several times
to the family's shack, bringing small amounts of money and clothing, a
gesture that Mrs. Bonjaku said convinced her that Orazio was being treated
well in his new home. Family photos show Mr. Borelli standing with Mrs.
Bonjaku and her other children. Flamur Gjuzi, the head of the anti-trafficking unit in
Durres, said wiretaps on Mr. Borelli's telephone showed that he also
intended to buy the family's newborn, arranging to pay the Bonjakus 5,000
euros (about $5,750) before the baby was due, and another 5,000 euros upon
delivery of the child. Mrs. Bonjaku admitted to receiving what she called limited
payments from Mr. Borelli each month of her pregnancy, but she insisted
that it was merely to help her out and that she had no intention of
selling the child. Since her husband's arrest she has heard nothing more
from Mr. Borelli, nor anything about Orazio, now 7. The Italian police say
he is being cared for in a state-run home for children.
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(c) 1999- The Children and Armed Conflict Unit |
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