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The revelations yesterday, about Oxfam's involvement in an underage prostitution scandal in Haiti, were shocking. The details of this shameful episode are far worse than I ever knew. I did of course know some details of the abuses that occurred. As an employee for Oxfam, our region was called to a meeting in which these allegations were disclosed to us. It was a closed internal meeting where all of us present discovered details of what transpired in Haiti. We were told by Beth Mayes, Head of HR at Oxfam House, that aid was given to the needy in exchange for sex. It had raised safeguarding issues and we were being asked as employees to adopt new measures to help deal with this sorry episode, preventing a recurrence of the abuses in Haiti.
There is an important reason why I am mentioning this meeting again today and sadly it has to do with more Oxfam lies. Whilst scanning through my twitter account last night, I came across the above article printed by the Daily Telegraph. Oxfam has denied its aid workers exchanged aid for sex, after the earthquake in Haiti. This is a lie; in the meeting I attended, all of us there were told the complete opposite.
Oxfam are proven fabricators; they are telling untruths to protect their shattered reputation once again. When I was being bullied by my Manager, she made a point of deceiving those involved, throughout every stage of the disciplinary process. I told the truth always and actually suffered even more as a result; resigning, unable to work with such heinous individuals. My story was disbelieved, her falsehoods were accepted to be true. This is the story of the charity I worked for; dishonest, fraudulent and disreputable. The charity Commission were not told the details of what happened in Haiti, because Oxfam knew it would be too damaging for their reputation. More untruths, more cover ups and more of the same. Oxfam haven't changed a bit, as they keep claiming!
I saw a Lady on Sky news yesterday, taking about this dreadful situation at Oxfam. I believe she was the head of a group representing charities throughout the sector. She claimed that Oxfam had done much to change its procedures, since this case of gross misconduct; asking you and I to still donate to the charity. She is deluded, they are still as bad, nothing has improved; the browbeaters are still in place. The Haiti incident happened in 2010, I experienced bullying from this time, until I left the organisation in 2015. I know of many more abuses that happened to my colleagues and are still going on today. As potential donators, we need to vote with our feet and withdraw our support for them and their shower of cronies. I am still fighting for justice for myself and know just how hard this process is. Withdraw Government funds, strip them of their charitable status and finally rid the World of this sociopathic organisation.
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Finally today could be the beginning of the end for Oxfam and those that have protected the abusers on their very doorstep. I turned on the television this evening and was greeted by the shocking news, that Oxfam aid workers in Haiti had used prostitutes, many of whom were under age minors. The Charity Commission had been informed of an incident several years ago by Oxfam, but had not been told the full truth; Oxfam were covering up the full extent of the crimes committed by people it employed. This is of course very sad, deeply distressing for those who suffered mistreatment, but no surprise to me.
I want to first talk about these allegations. As an employee of the charity at the time these assertions surfaced, I was informed of the abuses carried by Oxfam staff, along with my colleagues, in a hurriedly arranged meeting. The Head of HR, Beth Mayes arrived in our region to give a talk about safeguarding. Oxfam had implemented new rules to stop a repeat of the dreadful acts that happened in Haiti. All Oxfam employees would have to abide by these new conditions or lose their positions of employment. The guidelines were unusual; like nothing I had experienced before. No Oxfam employee was allowed to be in a relationship with someone under the age of eighteen. Alarm bells started to ring; this was a scandal involving children, yet the Charity Commission had not been told this important fact.
We were informed that is was necessary to employ these measures, in order to protect vulnerable individuals; all very honourable I hear you say. There were objections and questions about what happened in Haiti. I soon became aware at that meeting, Oxfam were covering something up; we were not being told the full truth. Like everyone there, we left the gathering somewhat confused. What exactly happened in Haiti? Who were Oxfam trying to protect?
My own story working at this organisation is well known. Darrell and I had become victims of abuse because of sexuality and illness. We were attacked for being vulnerable ourselves; not only by those at the top, but also co-workers, who had clearly been told some very personal details, about us and our life. We lived each day under a threat of further bullying. One particular colleague threatened to burn down our home, kill our cats and kidnap my partner, tying him up in the boot of a car. Our car was damaged; lies and misinformation were freely expressed and concerns for our safety were growing rapidly.
We made a stand to try and put an end to this saga, making a series of complaints about our superior Veronica Raymond. For nearly a year, we both went through hell and back, trying to get justice for our failing health and loss of career. Even when we attended official meetings, the procedures employed by those from Head Office, at Oxfam House, were deeply disturbing in nature. In the end I was left broken by my employer protecting the bullies, hiding the truth and not wanting to own up to their own failings. My life was in danger from people who cared only for their own survival. As I later found out, the full extent of what happened to me and others in the charity, was covered up; Oxfam closed ranks and supported the criminals in their employ.
I have been campaigning tirelessly, so those responsible for mistreatment, bullying and criminal acts can be brought to justice. I have whistleblown, spoken to legal advisors and have sent numerous emails, thus far to no avail. Nevertheless the Charity Commission did admit Oxfam had made a series of mistakes and were investigating mine and Darrell’s case further. Darrell and I left the UK, after our experiences with Oxfam, unable to recover from the atrocities they committed. We had to give up our life, move to Spain, change our names, in order to move forwards in life. All because Oxfam failed to protect me, my partner, fellow workers and vulnerable volunteers. Their reputation was of paramount importance, they didn’t care who became victims.
Oxfam have been protecting some terrible individuals, Managers and Directors, both in the UK and further afield. It is time they stood up and admitted their faults, which are many. I became a victim of a cover up, as did many others, we all deserve better. I hope now others will come forward with their own stories. I have had no closure on what happened to me. I still have nightmares when I recall events three years ago. Lives have been destroyed, colleagues abandoned and in one severe case, a fellow Manager from Ireland committed suicide. I am reminded of what one associate said to me anonymously a little over a year ago; someone who used to work in the HR Department at Oxfam House. She admitted everyone was so worried about surviving, paying for the high mortgages and cost of living in Oxfordshire, that they had lost their way. Their concern was for themselves and paying the bills, not those they were supposed to be helping and supporting. A terrible indictment on one of the biggest charities in the World. My advice: don’t give a single penny to these people, that have not only abused employees, but they have also abused you, your trust and your donations!
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It’s that time again, the worst part of the year, a day I always dreaded; competing in Sports I couldn’t stand, in front of family and friends. Today was hot, very hot; as a big kid, taking part in our schools annual sports day, activity was the last thing on my mind. Sat in my class room, I could see the caretaker, walking up and down the field, with one of those old fashioned oil filled mowers. As usual, it kept stopping and starting, spluttering back into life; the smell of petrol fumes drifted into the class. I coughed as the vapour hit the back of my throat; eyes watering I asked to use the toilet. Standing in the lavatory, I was alone with my thoughts. Placing both hands on either side of the sink, I lowered my head, looking down towards the plug hole and sighed. Leaning over, my right elbow slipping down the side of the porcelain, I gently turned on the cold tap. Cupping my hands, I filled them with water, taking a sip, throwing the excess over my face. This was going to be a long day!
The classroom was buzzing, a hive of activity, everyone excited about the day ahead; everyone except me that is. I went and sat back down at my desk and finished putting on my PE kit. My teacher, looked over from the front of the class; I turned and looked away. Briefly glancing back, she smiled, stood up and walked over to where I was sitting. She knelt down on the floor and told me not to worry; straightening my legs, pulling up my crisp white socks. I took out a pair of new, untouched plimsolls from my bag and Mrs Brooks helped me put them on. Gently tapping the side of my leg, she encouraged me to stand up; shoulders back, chin up; it was just another day.
People were arriving outside, Mums, Dads, Brothers and Sisters, all lined up neatly behind the rope fence erected around the field. Classroom tables were placed at either end of the freshly cut grass; trophies and ribbons neatly arranged. It was time to go and make a fool of myself once again. Walking outside, I was in a dream, floating on air. I imagined myself far away, from the cheering crowds, all the while scuffing my feet along the floor, hunched back, head bowed, not looking ahead. I heard Mothers voice in the crowd and looked upwards, waving briefly, placing my arms down to one side, walking slowly across the field.
I sat down waiting to be called; butterflies were fluttering unabated in my stomach; fidgeting, scowling, focusing on my feet. Then all at once, my name shouted from across the arena. Red faced, I made my way towards the track; eight of us lined up side by side; none of us wanting to play our part. A sport for the afflicted; a competition for the physically challenged; the dreaded egg and spoon race. The whistle went and I began the undignified crawl to the finish line with two left feet. Bumping into a fellow contestant half way along the course, I fell to the ground, grazing my knees, grass stains adorning my shorts. All the while the whole school looked on, fixated on me, no one else, just little old me. Hobbling across the finish line, I was patted on the back by Mrs Brooks “never mind” she said, as I was presented with a green ribbon, for endeavour, for trying hard, to make me feel better, to ease the pain. Forever green, that was me, never red or blue, just plain old green; could do better, must try harder, there’s always a next time; I was invisible once again!