US couple in court in Russian adoption abuse case

* Lawyer says final settlement expected
* Case has garnered media attention in Russia
By Keith Coffman
FORT COLLINS, Colo., Sept 7 (Reuters) - Court proceedings
for a Colorado couple accused of abusing three girls adopted
from Russia were postponed on Tuesday after a defense lawyer
told a judge that plea negotiations were under way.
Edelwina Leschinsky, 44, and her husband Steven Leschinsky,
43, were arrested in March after an investigation by child
welfare authorities in which the girls -- aged 12, 13 and 14 --
described being physically abused by their adoptive parents.
"We do anticipate a disposition (final settlement) in this
matter," Edelwina Leschinsky's lawyer Alex Garlin told Larimer
County District Court Judge Terence Gilmore during a brief
hearing.
The couple are charged with child abuse and contributing to
the delinquency of a minor. The girls have been removed from
the home.
The case has drawn media attention in Russia after a woman
in Tennessee put a 7-year-old boy she had adopted from Russia
on a plane back there, saying he had violent tendencies and
psychological problems.
According to a police affidavit, the girls, who were being
interviewed after the 12-year-old came to school with a black
eye, said the Leschinskys forced them to perform hundreds of
push-ups and sit-ups a day and to hold themselves over a board
with nails protruding from it.
The girls also told authorities their adoptive parents
spanked them with belts and pieces of wood and made them slap
each other in the face for punishment.
Prosecutors declined to discuss the case with reporters at
Tuesday's hearing.
"These are good, hard-working people who, with the purest
of intentions, adopted three Russian sisters," Garlin said in a
statement.
"Some extremely difficult adjustments for the children
caused great stress within the family, (and) parental
discipline occurred, but we disagree with various things
written in the police affidavit."
The next hearing in the case has been set for Oct. 7.
(Writing by Dan Whitcomb; Editing by Steve Gorman and John
O'Callaghan)

PM comes to orphan's rescue

RUDRA KHADKA

NEPALGUNJ, Sept 6: Prime Minister Madhav Kumar Nepal has made arrangements for schooling of a boy whose father committed suicide following allegations that his son stole a laptop.

Ramesh Chaudhary, 12, of Manpurtapara-5, Bardiya, was orphaned after his father Bhagawan Das committed suicide on August 25, a day after he was detained by police for the alleged crime of his son.

Ramesh´s education looked doomed following the death of his father who worked as security guard at Bright Future Academy in Nepalgunj to finance his studies after the boy´s mother married another man.

Britain’s secret child slaves
Despite being banned in Britain almost 200 years ago, slavery still exists today. And the faceless army of child slaves could be hard at work in the house next door...

By Laura Millar & Ceri Atkinson, 05/09/2010


When she was 12 years old, all Fayola wanted was to go to school, make some new friends and study hard to become a teacher when she grew up.

Instead, she spent her days cleaning, cooking and doing housework for the man who 'bought' her for just £200, after promising her mum in Nigeria that he'd give Fayola a good education in the UK.

But while the kids on Fayola's north London street were getting told off for playing on their Xboxes instead of tidying their rooms, the bruises on her skin served as a reminder of what happened when she didn't work hard enough.

Fayola was one of the thousands of children making up the faceless army of child slaves working in the UK. Children who could be in your town, your street, even the house next door. Because it's not just sex workers in brothels and pickpockets in begging gangs who are being trafficked into Britain. Around 70 per cent of police raids for trafficking victims are on residential properties. In streets just like yours.

Thousands of children spend their days in domestic servitude in private homes - as highlighted last week by the Channel 4 drama, I Am Slave, which told the story of a 12-year-old African child sold into servitude, just like Fayola.

In some cases, babies and toddlers are used by distant relatives in cases of benefit fraud. They present the children to authorities as their own in the hope of getting large council houses and extra money.

There's even increasing suspicion that British couples unable to have babies of their own are resorting to illegal adoptions, ordering children to be brought into the country.

Official Home Office statistics suggest 360 children are illegally brought into the UK every year, but experts believe the true number of youngsters being exploited could be in the thousands.

Despite this, a recent survey by trafficking charity ECPAT (End Child Prostitution, Child Pornography And The Trafficking Of Children) found that one in five British adults doesn't even believe that child trafficking exists, while a third don't accept that any of these children are ever brought to the UK. But according to ECPAT director, Christine Beddoe, these perceptions couldn't be more wrong.

"The child who's begging on the high street; the teenager taking little ones to school but never attending herself; the youngster who moves on to your street and only rarely ventures outside - these are all children who may have been trafficked," she explains. "People assume it happens far away, but it's closer to home than you might think.

"The numbers are increasing every year and it happens everywhere, from huge cities to small villages."

The majority of children trafficked to the UK are from eastern Europe, south-east Asia and Africa. Trafficked to London from Nigeria when she was just 11, Fayola believed she was coming for a better life and education.

"After my dad died in a car crash, my mum really struggled to provide for me and my three younger brothers," Fayola, now 18, recalls. "When a man arrived from the UK saying he was a friend of Dad's and that he could help, it seemed like the answer to everything."

Promising the chance of a bright future, the man offered to pay £200 in return for Fayola - enough to feed her family for six months.

"I really wanted to go," she remembers. "I could already speak English and had done well at school. I dreamed of being a teacher, so in the end Mum agreed I could leave with him."

Travelling to the UK by car, then ferry, Fayola was excited about her new life as she arrived at a British port. "The man told me to call him 'Uncle' before he handed over some paperwork to the officials," Fayola says. "No one questioned us, we were waved through."

But instead of starting her education in London as she'd hoped, Uncle had another plan for Fayola. "He told me the schools were closed for the holidays and that I couldn't leave his house. He said the area was dangerous and he wanted me to be safe," she remembers. "Then he gave me a list of jobs.

"At first, I didn't mind. Everything was new, I was excited about being in the UK and wanted to impress Uncle, and to thank him for being so kind."

But soon she was working 19-hour days, scrubbing floors until her fingers bled, washing endless piles of dirty clothes and cooking all Uncle's meals for him. And whenever he went out to work as a cab driver, he locked Fayola inside the house. "I began to wonder when I'd be starting school," she says. "But whenever I asked, Uncle got angry. He hit me hard across the face. I'd never seen someone so angry, and it really scared me."

It was then he told Fayola she was in the country illegally. "He said I could never leave him, never go home. If I tried, he said I'd be thrown in prison, and that it would be all my own fault and I'd be in big trouble because I had no documents."

Exhausted and broken, she resigned herself to Uncle's brutal regime, crying herself to sleep every night after yet another beating. "I just wanted my mum," she whispers.

Too scared to try to escape, Fayola spent the next three years alone. Uncle bought her clothes when she needed them, but she had no bed and slept on the sofa instead.

She saw no one, apart from the fleeting glimpses of local children playing in the street. "I thought I didn't deserve to be like them," she says. Her only link to the outside world were the secret minutes she'd spend watching the TV when Uncle was at work.

"Even then I was so jumpy," she says. "I never knew when Uncle would be back and he'd be so cross if I wasn't working."

At the age of 14, Fayola hit puberty and her body started to change into that of a young woman. And the way her Uncle treated her also began to change.

"When he came home one night he put his hands on my breasts," she says. "I didn't know what he was doing, but I knew it was wrong. It was something different from the beatings, but I didn't like it."

Screaming, Fayola ran from the living room into the hallway, where to her amazement, Uncle had left the front door key on the table. Seizing her chance, Fayola made a run for it. "I had nothing," she says. "Just the T-shirt and trousers I was wearing."

With no friends, nowhere to go and no clue where she was, the disorientated teenager wandered the streets crying for hours.

"I ended up slumped inside a shop doorway, sobbing, when a man approached me," she says. "He said his name was Malcolm*. He was older than me, in his 20s. He spoke kindly, asking why I was crying, and he listened when I told him what had happened with Uncle."


Border poilce try to spot the traffickers
But instead of taking Fayola to the police, Malcolm had other ideas. "He said I could stay with him," Fayola says. "I had no one, nothing. Compared to what I'd been through, he could only be a better option. And I was really grateful that he wasn't going to get me into trouble with the authorities."

Malcolm was going home to Manchester after completing a building job in London. He took a dazed Fayola to the train station, bought her a one-way ticket and led her back to his flat. However, while he had seemed kind, in return for letting her stay, Malcolm wanted something from her.

"A few nights after I arrived, Malcolm had sex with me," she says. "I was a virgin and very frightened, but I thought I owed it to him. He didn't beat me, he didn't make me work. I felt I had to give him something."

Fayola ended up staying with Malcolm in Manchester for the next two years.

"Compared to Uncle, Malcolm was wonderful," she says. "I was so grateful someone was treating me nicely, I didn't think it strange that he wanted to sleep with a young girl."

Malcolm allowed Fayola to leave the flat each day and slowly she began venturing into the local area.

"It was so strange being surrounded by people," she says. "I was scared they'd know I was in the UK illegally and I couldn't really speak to anyone at first. But just being free to watch TV, read a book or walk down the street felt amazing."

Then, when she was 16, Malcolm accepted a job abroad and Fayola had to move out of the flat. Again, she was desperate. Legally, she didn't exist, and with no money, she had to think fast.

"I couldn't get a job anywhere, so I did the only thing I could think of. I'm not proud of it, but I started sleeping with men for money," Fayola admits, tearfully. "I had no choice."

Two months after she began working as a prostitute in Manchester, Fayola cracked, spilling her story to a customer.

"I had nothing to lose any more," she says.

Shocked, he tried to help her, telling Fayola to go to the Home Office in Liverpool.

"He said I could try and claim asylum," she says. "I was scared about what the authorities would do to me, but I'd reached rock-bottom by that point."

After being interviewed by the Home Office, Fayola was referred to the Poppy Project, a charity that helps women who have been trafficked. They provided her with somewhere to stay and legal advice to help her claim asylum.

Now, Fayola is slowly rebuilding her life in the UK.

"It's taken over nine months, but I'm starting to feel more secure. I still look over my shoulder, scared Uncle is coming to take me again, but I'm having counselling to help. I'm even starting a university course in psychology this month," she says.

There's one thing Fayola's not been able to do however, and that is speak to her mum back in Nigeria.

"She can't find out what's happened to me. It would kill her," Fayola says sadly. "But I think about her and my brothers every day. I hope I can make them proud."

For details about the Poppy Project, visit Eaves4women.co.uk, and for more about ECPAT, visit Ecpat.org.uk.

What's being done to stop the trafficking?

In the wake of other trafficking cases, including the shocking death of eight-year-old Victoria Climbié, a specialist service called Paladin has been set up by the Metropolitan Police in London to prevent traffickers entering the UK.

Victoria was brought from the Ivory Coast to London at the age of seven by her great aunt, Marie-Thérèse Kouao, and her partner, Carl Manning, to help them defraud the benefit system. She died in 2000 of horrific neglect and abuse. Kouao and Manning are serving life sentences for her murder.

The Paladin team liaises with immigration officers to spot children being brought illegally into the country. If they have concerns, they interview the adults.

"If we can act before these children disappear, there's a chance we'll save them and reunite them with their families," says DI Gordon Valentine.

Worldwide, human trafficking is the second biggest illegal earner after the drugs trade. And once children slip through the net, it's almost impossible to find them. Which is why the Government is pledging to do more to help.

"Human trafficking, particularly child trafficking, is an issue that needs to be taken very seriously," says Home Secretary Teresa May. "It's modern-day slavery. Currently, we have some great resources in the UK, but we also need to raise awareness. Everyone can get involved, whether that's reporting an unaccompanied child who doesn't appear to be in school, or suspicious behaviour between a child and an adult. The Government will be looking at creating projects to help, but we can all do our bit."


Penny Jaitly is an immigration officer and works closely with Paladin. She says:
"I'm trained to look for signs that a child isn't part of the family they've arrived with. Do they look scared? Do they sit close to the people they're with?

I interviewed two German sisters, aged 13 and 14, brought to join the sex trade. Their parents died and a 'family friend' promised them a better life here. We found condoms in their bags and it was clear what was expected of them, so social services took over from there.

It's hard seeing toddlers who don't understand why they've been separated from their mums, and teenagers destined for exploitation. I try not to get emotional but with two sons of my own, I can't help it. Knowing the work I do can keep vulnerable children safe makes it all worth it."

Russia calls halt to Irish adoptions
05 September 2010 By Susan Mitchell

Difficulties with intercountry adoptions from Russia have resurfaced, with fears mounting that hundreds of Irish couples could be blocked from completing their adoptions.

It is understood that the Russian authorities have stopped adoptions. Prospective adopters are being told that Russia is no longer accepting referrals from Ireland.

Russian authorities have consistently claimed they have not received post-placement reports from Ireland. These reports detail how adopted children have integrated into their Irish families.

Oleg Bikmametov, a diplomat at the Russian embassy in Dublin, said ‘‘the ball was in the court of Irish’’ officials.

He was unable to clarify whether all Health Service Executive (HSE) areas had been blacklisted, or whether all Russian regions had stopped processing adoptions from Ireland.

The HSE has been heavily criticised for failing to ensure post-placement reports are carried out, but there appear to be administrative problems at the Russian embassy, which sends the reports to Russia.

A spokesman for the Office of the Minister for Children and Youth Affairs said it was awaiting details of an audit of post-placement adoption reports that the Russian embassy had said it would carry out. In April, Minister for Children Barry Andrews said his information from the HSE was that more than half of the reports listed by the Russian authorities as outstanding had been completed by adoptive parents and forwarded to the Russian embassy in Dublin.

Oleg Oleynikov, who helps facilitate intercountry adoptions from Russia, said parents, the HSE and the embassy were to blame.

He said the updated Russian blacklist named the HSE and the Adoption Board as failing to comply with its standards. Other countries have also been placed on the blacklist, he said.

‘‘The situation is not unique to Ireland, but other countries are doing things to solve the issue. I understand that nobody has contacted the Ministry for Education directly, apart from the Irish embassy, which made a few simple enquiries," said Oleynikov.

Oleynikov has facilitated adoptions from Russia to Ireland since 1998.He said he had 25 couples on his books who had been given referrals for children in Russia. Out of those, 12 couples had already travelled to Russia and met the children.

Oleynikov said his clients were extremely concerned. Kiernan Gildea, registrar at the Adoption Authority of Ireland, said the authority had no direct contact with Russian authorities as there was no bilateral agreement between the two countries.

5/9/2010

Des enfants congolais scolarisés grâce à votre générosité

L'effervescence qui entoure chez nous la rentrée des classes ne fait que raviver chez Julienne Mpemba des souvenirs douloureux. A plusieurs reprises, elle a été renvoyée de l'école publique où elle était inscrite au Congo: sa maman n'avait pas de quoi payer le minerval. La situation financière de la RDC s'étant encore dégradée, ce sont des milliers d'enfants, non scolarisés, qui traînent, aujourd'hui, dans les rues. En 2008, avec d'autres personnes sensibilisées au sort des Congolais, elle a lancé l'asbl Tumaini. Tumaini, cela veut dire "espérer" en swahili. En versant 125 € par an, le prix d'un parrainage, un enfant est assuré d'aller à l'école pendant toute une année. En octobre, Julienne Mpemba quittera pendant quelques mois Namur où elle vit pour le Congo. Elle va, installer à Kinshasa, un bureau relais avec l'association. Le 11 septembre prochain, l'asbl Tumaini organise, à Belgrade, un souper. Il s'agit là aussi de récolter des fonds pour aider les enfants.

Julienne Mpemba est installée, depuis plusieurs années maintenant, à Namur. Il y a des souvenirs qu'elle n'est pas prête d'effacer de sa mémoire. Orpheline de père alors qu'elle n'était encore qu'une enfant, elle a connu la dure réalité de la vie. Elle raconte: "Jusqu'au décès de papa, j'étais inscrite dans une école huppée où j'ai appris beaucoup de choses. L'enseignement y était excellent, c'est comme ça que j'ai eu de très bonnes bases en français comme en mathématiques." Une école payante bien sûr. Lorsque la maman se retrouve seule avec ses enfants, il n'est plus possible pour Julienne de suivre sa scolarité dans un établissement aussi privilégié. "J'ai été inscrite dans une école publique moins renommée mais toujours de bonne qualité. Nous étions plus de 40 enfants par classe. Plusieurs fois, j'ai été renvoyée de l'école parce que maman n'avait pas payé les frais de fonctionnement. Je rentrais à la maison et le lendemain, je retournais à l'école avec l'argent. J'ai des camarades qui n'ont jamais pu revenir à l'école faute de moyens et aujourd'hui, ils ont le niveau qu'ils avaient en primaire. C'est révoltant. A mon époque, à la fin des années 80, des enfants dans ma situation il y en avait cinq ou six par classe. Maintenant, c'est bien pire: c'est la moitié d'une classe qui est concernée." Une classe où les enfants sont 60 à suivre les cours. Ils sont tellement nombreux que des écoliers suivent les cours de 7h30 à 12h et d'autres de 13h à 17h. La semaine suivante, on inverse.

Acheter son banc

The excitement that surrounds us back to school only rekindles painful memories in Julienne Mpemba. Several times, she was expelled from the public school where she was enrolled in the Congo: her mother could not afford the tuition. The financial situation of the DRC having deteriorated further, it is thousands of children, who are not in school, who are hanging around the streets today. In 2008, with other people made aware of the fate of the Congolese, she launched the Tumaini association. Tumaini means "hope" in Swahili. By paying € 125 per year, the price of a sponsorship, a child is guaranteed to go to school for a whole year. In October, Julienne Mpemba will leave Namur for a few months where she lives for the Congo. She is going to settle in Kinshasa, a relay office with the association. On September 11, the non-profit organization Tumaini is organizing a dinner in Belgrade. It is also about raising funds to help children.

Julienne Mpemba has been living in Namur for several years now. There are memories that she is not ready to erase from her memory. Fatherless when she was still a child, she experienced the harsh reality of life. She says: "Until Dad died, I was enrolled in an upscale school where I learned a lot. The teaching was excellent, that's how I had a very good foundation in French as in mathematics. " A paying school of course. When the mother finds herself alone with her children, it is no longer possible for Julienne to follow her education in such a privileged establishment."I was enrolled in a less renowned public school but still of good quality. We were more than 40 children per class. Several times I was expelled from school because my mother had not paid the fees. I came home and the next day I went back to school with the money. I have comrades who have never been able to go back to school for lack of means and today they have the level that they had in primary school. It is revolting. In my time, at the end of the 80s, children in my situation there were five or six per class. Now, it is much worse: it is the half of a class that is affected. "A class where the children are 60 to follow the lessons. There are so many of them that schoolchildren attend classes from 7:30 to 12:00 and others from 1:00 to 5:00. The following week, we reverse.

Buy his bench

"Not continuing your studies for lack of financial means is horrible, says Julienne Mpemba. I had a boyfriend who was a hit during university preparation but he was so poor that his parents could not to pay the fees. He would have been a perfect lawyer, his case still haunts me today. "But it is well before the university that the door of the school is difficult to cross. Thus, a child can only be enrolled in kindergarten in the private sector and it is of course paid. Many therefore do not enter school until the age of 6 without having learned the ba-ba.

We still come to situations that could be laughable if behind there was such disarray. So that her daughter can follow her schooling, Julienne's mom will go to a carpenter to whom she will ask to build a bench. The school accepted Julienne but there was no more seat! She went to school with her bench wedged it in front of the teacher's desk and she took her lessons.