Fighting child sex tourism, one baby step at a time

The sentencing of Kenneth Klassen of Burnaby, B.C., for committing sex tourism with children and importing child pornography is yet another little reason for children’s rights activists to celebrate. Earlier Wednesday, the 59-year-old Canadian man who admitted to having sex with young girls in Columbia and Cambodia was sentenced to 11 years in prison.

And it’s about time!

Klassen exemplifies an ever increasing number of travelers who take opportunistic advantage of the desperately poor and vulnerable children in foreign [mostly developing] countries. These tourists exercise classic predatory behaviour, exploiting weaknesses in the enforcement of laws surrounding “child sex tourism”.

Experts estimate that more than one million children around the world, some as young as five years old, are lured or sold into the sex trade each year, often as a result of extreme poverty. Many of these children are either sold into prostitution to support families, pay off family debts, or are forcibly recruited to work in brothels.

At some point during his trial, Klassen unsuccessfully challenged Canada's sex tourism law, arguing that the incidents happened in other countries where Canadian courts have no jurisdiction. He was wrong.

Canada’s Criminal Code specifically prohibits child sex tourism. In 1997, Canada passed legislation that extraterritorially extended the criminal code to enable prosecution of Canadians for a number of sexual crimes committed against children in foreign jurisdictions. Although Klassen’s sentencing is only the fourth such conviction under this law, it is nonetheless the toughest sentence handed down yet.

Around the world, many other countries have passed similar child sex tourism laws.

Similarly, in 1989, the United Nations adopted the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child [CRC], the first legally binding international agreement that protects children from sexual abuse and exploitation. The CRC has been ratified by 191 countries including Canada.

With such seemingly protective measures in place, why then are so many children still being exploited?

Although, arresting and prosecuting such offenders should be lauded, it’s definitely not enough. While Klassen and other international “sex tourists” significantly contribute into these skewed sexual relations with children, local populations are also to blame for supplying the “industry”. Many local and national governments also remain lenient to such crimes, often turning a blind eye to this immoral act, particularly in places where sexual exploitation is deemed lucrative by family members and the tourism industry in general.

Unquestionably each country has a right to exercise their sovereignty but it’s not enough to simply ratify the CRC. There is need for workable measures to pressure national governments to enforce existing laws to further protect children. The tourism industry, local communities and child protection agencies should all work together for better results.

This way when time comes for that much-needed vacation, it will be to get warm, discover new locations and experience different cultures, as opposed to taking part in the morally reprehensible and illegal act of child sex tourism.

The break-in surprise

Sometimes I tell stories, while often times I'm accused of being an over-attentive listener. But rarely within my circle (as far as I know) do I become the story. Unfortunately for me and lots of fun for others, that changed this past weekend and I don't know whether to cover my face in shame or laugh my eyes out at the memory and mention of it.

I startled awake sometime around 1:00am Sunday morning to a persistent movement and pounding noise close by. Initially I couldn't tell whether the sound was coming from within the house or outside. I lay still for a few minutes, my heart beat competing with the intrusive pounding and then decided to walk stealthily through other rooms as I listened. The pounding only got louder and to my ears it sounded like someone was bringing down the right side of the house, brick by brick.

After about 15 minutes, I decided to call someone for help and it was then I remembered that my neighbours on both sides were out of town. This only worked to heighten my panic as it occurred to me that maybe someone was trying to break into either my house or the one on the right (from where I thought the noise was emanating). So, after a little more thought I dialed 911. I explained my situation and said that normally I'd go outside to check it out, but that night I was all alone and I felt afraid.

The patient woman on the other end of the line asked me to be calm as I explained the type of noise I was hearing. Then I went to stand by the main entrance, phone in my hand. Within moments a police car raced into the driveway, lights blazing and as soon as it stopped, two officers jumped out. They did a quick around the house inspection as I watched from within the house and then one of them came to the door and before he could knock, I had it open.

"Hello maam. Are you okay?" The officer inquired. "I think so, thank you." I replied. He continued; "We've checked around the house and there is no one except a raccoon that is walking back and forth on the roof. Would you like to see it?"

I didn't know whether to cry with relief or laugh from embarrassment. A raccoon had become the first reason I've ever called 911. That does not happen to smart, normal people. Needless to say, after all the paperwork was done and my heart had resumed normal beating, I could not stop laughing at myself. And I bet those officers had some fun typing their report that morning. Who was the main character? Me or the poor raccoon stranded on the roof looking confused as to how it got there in the first place?

Esther Wambui/Photos
I took this picture in 2006, when I saw raccoons for the first time in my life.

This particular family lived in our backyard for months

But all laughter and jokes aside, this may be more serious than it looks, according to those friends who can pause between bouts of laughter to comment. You see, I have in my studies and work had the privilege of living in some of the most beautiful yet dangerous cities in the world. I have lived in Nairobi, Kenya, Johannesburg and Durban in South Africa and in Quito Ecuador, among others. In two of these places, I have been a victim of break-ins such that when a similar pounding startled me awake, it did not immediately register to me that I was in Toronto, in a very safe suburban neighbourhood, where break ins are a relatively rare occurrence.

Anxiety Disorder or paranoia? I doubt paranoia. But one of my friends is already joking that it just might be. According to him; “It has to be since you’re one of the most sensible and brave people I know.” Brave or not, all I know is that my yet unborn offspring will know this story whether I am the one to tell it or not. And as for the remaining summer barbecues, I'm sure I'll be an anecdote, and in a “you can’t talk your way out of this” kind of way. Go figure!