BajaNews - 2-28-2006 at 12:18 AM
http://www.10news.com/news/7519664/detail.html
Husband, Wife Open Up Orphanage In Tijuana
Jennifer Brady
February 27, 2006
SAN DIEGO -- Children are being sold for sex to child molesters for just a few dollars, 10News reported.
But some San Diegans are doing everything they can to rescue the children from a life of prostitution.
It's a multimillion-dollar industry and the product is the young and helpless.
10News reporter Elsa Sevilla could not believe what she saw -- young people on display like meat in a supermarket, and customers from both sides of
the border shopping for sex.
10News was introduced to children doing school work, but these weren't ordinary students. Many are the sons and daughters of prostitutes.
Most come from a neighborhood called the Red Light District in Tijuana -- called the Zona Norte. For now, they are safe.
Some of these children have been sold to pedophiles by their own parents for drug money.
"He would tell my mother he would give her $10 if I would sleep with him," said victim Juanita.
Juanita, 9, has been raped four times and forced to watch pornographic movies with men -- her mother aware of it all.
Children as young as 7 and 8 years old are coerced to become sex slaves. Many of them are living in hotels in La Zona Norte.
But thanks to San Diegans Connie Youngkin and her husband, some children are finding shelter.
"We had a really nice place in Poway. (We had a) jacuzzi, pool -- everything we could want, but we had a really hollow feeling in our heart," said
Connie, with El Pozo Orphanage.
The Youngkins sold everything and moved to Tijuana, opening El Pozo Orphanage five years ago. So far, 45 children have found refuge.
The Youngkins want to do more. Children like Javier, who was raped at 10, sold drugs and became a father at 13.
"My mother abandoned me, and I lived in a doghouse for six months. Then I lived on a sidewalk, covering myself with cardboard boxes," said Javier.
Some children for sale are kept locked up and treated like animals, 10News reported.
Rescuing the younger ones for the orphanage is dangerous work.
It costs $12,000 a month to run the orphanage -- a financial drain on the Youngkins.
They want to bring in 50 more children.
If you're interested in helping, you can send a donation to:
Children of Promise International
PO Box 200
Alma, Missouri 64001
(El Pozo Orphanage)
10News Investigates Children Sold For Sex
BajaNews - 3-1-2006 at 03:37 AM
http://www.10news.com/news/7558922/detail.html
Children Are Being Sold To Pedophiles In Tijuana
Jennifer Brady
February 28, 2006
SAN DIEGO -- It's one of the most horrifying, yet under reported crimes in the region, and like many crimes, it's all about money.
Young girls line the streets of the Red Light District in Tijuana. They are forced into prostitution, and some are as young as 13 years old.
But younger children, 7 or 8 years old, are also for sale.
"The kids were actually in handcuffs. (They) have sixx with them without the child trying to stop them. Some of the kids were muffled with
hankerchiefs so that they wouldn't scream," said "Anthony," who didn't want to reveal his identity.
Anthony rescues children. Just last week, he pulled some children out of a house in the Red Light District.
"These eight kids were in a house (and) had been abducted from parts of Mexico and brought to this house specifially to be sold to pedophiles," said
Anthony.
While thousands of children are sexually exploited in Tijuana, many others are the victims of human trafficking to the border cities -- some even make
it to the United States, but one local group wants to put an end to it all, 10News reported.
Bilateral Safety Corridor Colation's Marisa Ugarte says this doesn't just happen in Tijuana.
The children are moved back and forth across the border.
"We have very serious problems. People don't see crimes against children a priority," said Ugarte.
Making things even worse, recently the laws in Tijuana were changed.
Pedophiles roaming the streets, if arrested, used to face 10 to 15 years in prison. Now, it's a $25 fine.
These young people are being sold everyday, and that's what Anthony sees.
Anthony said his work is dangerous and his enemies are powerful.
"The police are in the middle of it. That's part of the problem -- the police get a take on this," said Anthony.
With this new law, if a child is burned on their body with a cigarette, and the physical evidence disappears after 15 days, no charges are filed.
Anthony takes the children he rescues to a safe place called El Pozo Orphanage.
Right now, 45 children are in the orphanage, which provides shelter, food, education and medical services.
The hope is to be able to take care of another 50 children in the near future.
Finding Faith in Tijuana
BajaNews - 3-1-2006 at 03:45 AM
http://www.nationalcatholicreporter.org/globalpers/gp030805....
By Malcolm Beith
March 8, 2005
Tijuana, Mexico -- I don't believe in Jesus Christ. Or religion, for that matter. But recently I finally discovered faith in faith, in perhaps the
most unlikely of places. "Welcome to Tijuana, tequila, sexo, marijuana -- and God," as the famous song goes. (I added the last one; the rest is all
Manu Chao.)
College kids and Navy cadets from California aren't the only Americans who invade Tijuana, Mexico. Another breed of habitual border crossers, nuns,
are there in force. I met one of them, Eudist Sister Dori Valin, a 70-year-old San Diego transplant. While she's not the most famous nun south of the
border (that would be 77-year-old Antonia Brenner, who lives by choice in a cell in Tijuana's La Mesa state penitentiary), Sister Dori epitomizes what
faith can do in a place long forgotten by everyone -- God included. Sister Dori runs La Casa Exodo, a home for abandoned and exploited children and
women.
According to Jorge Bedoya, director of the San Diego-based Bilateral Safety Corridor Coalition which works with exploited women and children in
Tijuana, the Mexican border town is one of the six worst places for human exploitation in the world. A stroll down Avenida de la Constitucion, lined
with teen prostitutes batting their eyelids and hiking up their mini-skirts at 11:30 on a weekday morning, sheds no doubt on Bedoya's claim.
That's where Sister Dori comes in. Her shelter, a long two-story house, is just blocks away from Avenida de la Constitucion. Through the green metal
gates, sanctitude awaits. A colorful mural of Our Lady of Guadalupe gazes down adoringly in the driveway. In the half-dozen bedrooms, six to eight
bunk beds (covered with stuffed animals bigger than some of the kids themselves) sit next to desks with computers. How did PCs find their way to a
Tijuana shelter? A few months ago Sister Dori asked the Mexican government for 10 computers; she received 17. "I finally stuck it to them," she says,
grinning.
Sister Dori is a testament to humanity. Born in Portugal's Madeira Islands in 1934, she moved to San Diego as a child. In her 20s she married a ship
captain, only to have him leave her for what she calls a "younger model" 26 years later. To get over her bad breakup, she turned closer to the church.
And about 13 years ago, she says she received a calling from Mary, who spoke to her and displayed a vision of Sister Antonia Brenner, whom Sister Dori
had met a month before. "She said, 'Go see [Sister Antonia] my child,'" recalls Sister Dori. Scared, Dori blessed herself with holy water and said "Go
away, this is not normal."
Eventually, she threw aside what agnostics like myself might call reason, and moved to Tijuana to work with Sister Antonia. Thirteen years later,
hundreds of kids and women have found homes, jobs and new lives because of that choice. But what's most amazing about Sister Dori's story is that so
many expats in Tijuana share similar ones.
Missions abound, as do non-denominational groups.
Not far from Casa Exodo, 56-year-old Connie Youngkin and her husband Tyler from Arizona, co-run a shelter called El Pozo. Twenty-eight children, whose
parents are either prostitutes, drug addicts, convicts or just plain abusers, live in the home -- a converted warehouse -- with their adopted family.
Recently, they received a check for $25,000 from the Bilateral Safety Corridor Coalition. The donation will help the home's administrators continue
with bible classes, but more importantly, it will give the kids shelter, stability and a life they won't find elsewhere. "We're blessed," says
Youngkin. "They get to be just like normal American -- I mean, Mexican -- kids."
I've always been skeptical of philanthropy, especially when it's cloaked in religion. (I often fear people are just doing good out of guilt or to
guarantee a ticket to heaven.) As for Sister Dori's vision, I'm still skeptical, but I am in no position to disprove it.
But faith, that's now another matter. Seven years ago, when I was undergoing chemotherapy for cancer at age 23, I was told that friends of my family
held Masses for me as far away as Peru and Spain. While I was grateful, I dismissed their beliefs. I didn't see the value of their faith. But after
seeing the look on eight-year-old Maya's face when it dawned on her that the huge check being handed over to the Youngkins would keep a roof over her
head and food in her mouth, I can no longer dismiss faith. Maya was beaten by her grandfather; her mother is a prostitute who works the streets
nearby. If it weren't for people like the Youngkins and Sister Dori, girls like her wouldn't have a chance.
I no longer care if these do-gooding Christians are doing it just to get into heaven -- as long as they keep getting these kids out of hell.
Women at the Well
BajaNews - 3-1-2006 at 03:53 AM
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/features/20020524-9999_mz...
At El Pozo, an anti-abortion activist has turned her energies to helping Tijuana's prostitutes start over
By Anna Cearley
May 24, 2002
TIJUANA ? Connie Youngkin wasn't carrying her anti-abortion signs when she began roaming through this city's red-light district.
But she still stood out, this light-skinned woman with the piercing green eyes, as she approached a line of prostitutes leaning against crumbling
storefronts and handed them invitations to a center she had opened to teach them new job skills.
For almost two decades, Youngkin's name had been linked with the most extreme elements of San Diego's anti-abortion movement. She waved pictures of
dead fetuses on street corners and helped block access to abortion clinics. She even took an aborted 16-week-old fetus to a high school event.
Then suddenly, in the late-1990s, she put down her signs and disappeared from the scene.
Some people believe Youngkin left the anti-abortion movement because it was becoming harder to target clinics that had obtained injunctions or that
had moved to less obvious office spaces.
But Youngkin, who still believes abortion is akin to murder, says that wasn't the reason at all.
Instead, the 54-year-old Youngkin said she was letting her life be shaped by the same Christian faith that fueled her efforts to save the unborn.
Tijuana has about 3,800 prostitutes, many of them registered with the health department and operating legally. Some earn more in a single night than
they could earn in a month of factory work.
"It's a complicated world, and you can't just expect to walk right into it," said local human rights activist Victor Clark, who has spent years
working with the prostitutes.
For help, Youngkin turned to prayer, just as she says she used to do when she met women considering having an abortion.
"God, we just need a big enough place for these women so we can do stuff for them and make a change in their lives. It needs to have enough room for a
meeting place and child care, so that we can have classes and activities to help them."
Youngkin decided God had answered her prayers when, in early 2001, she found a dark, musty two-story building on F. Martinez Street, just a few blocks
from the border fence. It would be called El Pozo, or The Well, after a Bible story about a promiscuous woman who is approached by Jesus at a well.
A search for meaning
Youngkin's upbringing in a wealthy Arizona family had always made her feel sanitized from the realities of the world.
Her search for a deeper meaning in life brought her to religion.
She met her husband, Tyler, when she was a freshman at Northern Arizona University, and they married in 1968. A few years later, they began attending
a Bible study group led by friends.
One night, reading the Beatitudes, Youngkin dedicated herself to God. "I really sensed the presence of God. The warmth and power."
While Tyler established his medical career at Scripps-Mercy Hospital in San Diego, Connie reared their three children in a spacious home in Poway with
a swimming pool and two acres of land.
It was a very good life, but she felt restless.
Tyler promised that after the kids were grown, he would support her dream of doing some kind of missionary work abroad. In the meantime, Youngkin
threw herself into the anti-abortion movement, organizing so many rallies and sit-ins that her supporters at Operation Rescue hailed her as a heroine.
Others saw her tactics as threatening and extreme.
Harry Goldenberg, who used to escort women seeking abortions through the picket lines, recalls trying to shield them from Youngkin's accusatory
remarks.
"She would be on the curb shouting at the patients, who didn't want to hear her, things like 'You are killing your baby' and that it was a sin," he
said. "One time a car drove up to let a young woman out, and she (Youngkin) ran ahead of us with two of her colleagues. I don't know what words were
said, but the woman started to cry, and they drove off."
Youngkin also targeted doctors who performed abortions, in one case distributing fliers displaying statements from lawsuits filed against three of
them. In 1993, Youngkin settled a lawsuit brought against her by the doctors, who claimed the allegations were taken out of context and defamatory.
She agreed to pay the doctors' legal fees.
Youngkin's radical behavior landed her in jail several times, totaling 66 days. She led prisoners in Bible study and seemed to thrive on meeting these
souls in need. It was a hint of that other world she had yet to touch.
But she was less open-minded outside of jail. During one of her two unsuccessful runs for a state Assembly seat, Youngkin announced she would fire
staff members if she learned they'd had an abortion or were gay.
By the late 1990s, Youngkin had begun visiting Tijuana's prostitutes through a church program. She sensed that God was pointing her in that direction.
In 1998, the Youngkins finally fulfilled the agreement they'd made to each other more than 30 years earlier. Tyler quit his prestigious job as
director of pathology at Scripps-Mercy. They sold their home in Poway and their cabin in Julian and headed for Costa Rica, where they spent two years
studying Spanish and learning how to operate a social service program.
When the Youngkins returned, they moved into a beachside apartment in Tijuana.
Starting over
On March 4, 2001, trucks loaded with donated furniture, kitchen supplies and a giant television set rolled into the driveway of the building that
would become El Pozo.
There would be a beauty school, computer classes, a child-care facility, plus space to teach English and the Bible.
The Youngkins would use some of their own money to cover the program's monthly costs of about $3,000. They also sought donations through a bimonthly
newsletter to doctors, churches, former neighbors and members of Operation Rescue.
Tyler was working part time in San Diego while Youngkin roamed dark alleys, offering prostitutes tamales and promising free manicures once El Pozo
opened.
"We aren't one of those big progressive ministries to the masses," she said. "We are focusing on each individual."
On registration day, April 16, 2001, Youngkin sat at the entrance of El Pozo, armed with copies of the class schedule. Many people passed by, but few
stepped inside.
Youngkin was pragmatic. She remembered a saying she'd once heard, that God can't start a parked car.
"We can't make anyone change unless they want to," she said. "But we pray for these ladies, and we keep praying."
Few prostitutes
Youngkin soon realized that despite her attempt to focus on prostitutes, El Pozo was going to be a meeting point for poor women from all walks of
life.
About 25 began attending classes in computers and literacy, and about 80 came to the free Friday dinners. Just 20 percent of the women, Youngkin
concluded, were prostitutes.
"It has helped me a lot to be here, and it has given me the strength to move forward with my life," said Dora Estela Robles, 38, who worked as a
prostitute for about a year. "It's like being in a school and starting from scratch."
Although Youngkin was pleased to hear those words, her failure to reach large numbers of prostitutes frustrated her.
She placed one prostitute, a 23-year-old drug addict called Olga, in a drug rehabilitation center. But Olga escaped and spread word on the street that
she wanted to beat up Youngkin.
By early this year the two had patched things up and Olga began volunteering at the center. But Youngkin worried that the young woman was starting to
look haggard and thin.
In February, Olga asked Youngkin to take her to a drug rehabilitation center. She was diagnosed with AIDS and died four days later.
Youngkin was crushed. So many shattered lives, and there was only so much she could do to help them.
There were other disappointments: The beauty school classes ended after just a few months due to lack of interest. And Youngkin's idea of teaching the
women to make decorative frames for mirrors didn't catch on either, despite her belief that tourists would buy them.
She continued reaching out to the women by offering her friendship and more tangible assistance: free dinners, manicures and clothing.
"We pray for these ladies here, and we keep praying," she said. "You just have to keep trying and not shut the door. Someday things will get so bad
for them and they will know that we are there for them."
Youngkin celebrated the first anniversary of El Pozo's opening last month. She is certain that, despite the disappointments, she is making a
difference.
Occasionally she joins her friends at anti-abortion rallies north of the border, but always she feels God pulling her back to Tijuana. Her next
project, she has decided, will be an orphanage, maybe for HIV-infected babies, or for little girls.
She believes God will tell her what to do ? when the time is right.
"God's leading and I'm trying to follow him," she said. "It doesn't always go the way you plan, but he's teaching me patience."
Youngkins giving hope to ?downtrodden? in Tijuana
BajaNews - 3-1-2006 at 04:00 AM
http://goodnewsetc.com/072TS1.htm
By NANCY SCOFIELD and MARGARET KRAUSS
Remember the passionate Connie Youngkin, a nurse, who actively helped many political hopefuls successfully attain public office? She herself was also
nearly elected to the State Assembly. One of the founding members of the crisis pregnancy center now known as Life Choices, Connie was also an
activist with Operation Rescue.
Although politics and saving babies was her focus at that time, mission work has always been close to her heart, and she dreamed of one day becoming a
full-time missionary. Connie and her husband, Tyler, hospital director of pathology, agreed that when their children were grown they would do
missionary work together in Latin America. Friends encouraged them to follow their heart?s desire and apply to a language school in Costa Rica. Their
schooling was followed by one year of practical experience in an orphanage.
With their newfound knowledge and experience, the Youngkins started a center in Tijuana called ?El Pozo,? meaning ?The Well.? (John 4:7). Their
mission is to provide a safe haven for prostitutes from the red-light district, where they can be fed, showered, refreshed and taught about Jesus
Christ, giving them real hope for a way out of the destructiveness of prostitution. The next phase of their mission is to establish an orphanage, when
much needed consistent support money comes in. The Youngkins live in Las Playas, Tijuana. Tyler works part-time at Scripps-Mercy Hospital to provide
for their expenses.
The El Pozo team is comprised of approximately 10 Mexican Nationals with the Youngkins. They are part of ?Children of Promise, International,? a
non-denominational Christian organization. ?Connie is like a people magnet. Women and children gravitate towards her,? Tyler says. ?Some call her the
?Energizer Bunny.?
This interview was done on Friday night, a special night at El Pozo. Invitations for dinner are extended to the women in the red-light district. As
they arrive, Connie greets them with a cheerful smile and offers to give them a manicure. Women and children are seated at tables covered in lilac
colored tablecloths and enjoying the movie, ?Nicky Cruz.? In the back right corner women are busily preparing the dinner of beans, creamed squash and
homemade French fries. Meat could not be included because funds were too low this month. The walls of this 600-square-foot all-purpose room are
covered with murals of soft rolling hillsides graced with trumpeting white calle lilies painted by Connie. One five-year-old girl with long black hair
shyly comes up and whispers in Connie?s ear. ?What did she say?? we asked. Connie smiles and says, ?She wondered if toys would be given out at
tomorrow?s Bible Study. I told her yes.?
As Connie gives a manicure, a little dirty-faced boy with open sores tearfully tugs at Connie for attention. She quickly scoops him up into her arms,
hugging him while she speaks softly reassuring words of comfort and has him giggling in seconds. Irene prays a blessing over the food, thanking God
for His guidance and provisions. Everyone answers ?Amen.? The younger children sit down to dinner while the older children help serve.
A woman smiling and beaming with pride sits down near us, her hair still wet from her weekly shower. Connie nods and says, ?You picked a nice outfit.?
Turning to us, Connie says, ?Everyone gets a new outfit with their shower. The word?s out that we are here for them and love them ? God does the
rest.?
The back left corner has been converted to a playroom and clothing distribution area. The second floor has a lounge area used for counseling with
space for supplies (videos, games, etc.). At the end of the hall are 6 computer stations used for computer classes. The demand is greater than the
supply so students must share computers.
Chuy, a believer, and full time Caretaker at El Pozo, lives on the premises and provides full-time security. Chuy, a cheerful, personable man, humbly
serves wherever he is needed. He teaches a kid?s Bible study on Saturday that includes breakfast and is coachs two soccer teams comprised of poor
children, some of which live on the streets. Team uniforms have been provided by donations and the teams successfully participate in league games.
Tuesday night is a men?s night, which includes shower, dinner, counseling, prayer and whatever else is needed. Wednesday afternoons there is a Bible
study for women. Some 40-50 women attend, with the number increasing weekly. After the study the women are offered clean clothes and a bag of food.
English classes are given on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.
El Pozo sponsored 12 street children in public school last semester. In Tijuana, each child must wear a school uniform for everyday and another for
physical education. Students must supply their own books, pencils and notebooks. The total cost per child is $70 per semester. They will sponsor more
children this fall, as the funds hopefully increase.
Raquel, a young mother of eight, gave up prostitution to take a full time job in a factory in an effort to change her life. When she couldn?t make
ends meet financially she headed for the red-light district to boost her income. Each time she took a step in that direction she became weak and
immobile. She felt the presence of the Lord and his protective love compel her to return to El Pozo. She was awestruck to know that ?God loved her,?
and miraculously intervened on her behalf to stop her from going back to prostitution. Connie reassured her that God is faithful and will supply all
of her needs. The Youngkin?s ministry has witnessed approximately 200 salvations, and physical and emotional healings are ongoing.
How do they deal with the heartbreak of those who won?t accept help or do so too late, like Olga, a drug addict who recently died? Olga received
salvation, but wouldn?t give up drugs. Just before she died she asked Connie to help her be readmitted to the drug rehabilitation program. But it was
too late; AIDS claimed her life. The Youngkins say, ?We pray for the people and love them, knowing that God is faithful and can be trusted for the
results.?
With such a hectic schedule, how do the Youngkins get refreshed and revitalized? By knowing their ?boundaries? and keeping balanced lives. Daily
devotions are essential, along with family visits, going out to dinner, and attending various churches in Tijuana on Sundays. They keep in touch with
their home-based church, Christian Life Assembly in Poway, attending whenever they can. They also observe the seventh day as their day of rest,
believing it to be vital to their health and spirit.
Connie outlined the following needs of El Pozo:
? Monthly financial support on a consistent basis.
? Physical help in the form of volunteers (electricians, carpenters, dry wallers, painters and plumbers will be in great demand when the site for the
orphanage is found).
? People to give manicures, haircuts, and cleaning of the facility.
? People to do community outreach, such as puppet shows, mimes, skits, and clowns, etc.
? Material items ? televisions, VCRs, lots of skateboards, roller blades, old eye glasses, personal hygiene items, nail clippers, new toothbrushes,
toothpaste, food items, protein items (chicken, beef, beans) clean clothes in good condition, balls for sports, toys, nice stuffed animals, basic
medical supplies, and gift packets for the children and women (may include hair items, brushes, clips, shampoos, etc.).
? Educational videos, movies, games, and Bibles in English and Spanish.
El Pozo gratefully received a van, a new stove and microwave recently as answers to prayer.
Many have witnessed that God is love at El Pozo and additional support is needed in order for others to receive God?s love at ?The Well.? Connie and
Tyler Youngkin can be contacted by phone at 011-526-64-630-8967 or by e-mail at Tycon_mx (at) yahoo.com
[Edited on 3-1-2006 by BajaNews]