A Survivor's Tale

How one young woman survived human trafficking

“In Africa, the tradition is when your elder tells you to do something you don't ask questions. You just follow whatever they tell you and you say OK,” Adamma explained.

“Adamma” remembers the day she landed in the United States after being taken from her native country of Togo: “It was January 25, 2006, at 3:55 (p.m.). That was the worst day of my life.”

Having landed in Detroit in the middle of winter, Adamma and the three other children from Togo she traveled with were not prepared: “We didn’t have boots or coats. It was so cold. No one really told us we should have all these prior to coming,” she said.

What she also wasn’t prepared for was the physical and emotional abuse, the extreme rationing of food and the isolation.

Adamma left Togo for the U.S. with little information as to why she was going. It started with a whole year of “practicing” being a family with a couple introduced to her by her father. “Adamma”, “Mandla”, “Fatima” and “Thulani” were brought into the U.S. carrying passports with false names and dates of birth which claimed they were the biological children of a man who was a distant relative already living in the U.S.

Adamma’s father was convinced that he was securing a better future for his young daughter by allowing her to go to the U.S. The man she was going to live with promised an education and opportunities she would not get in Togo. Adamma didn’t ask questions.

“In Africa, the tradition is when your elder tells you to do something you don't ask questions. You just follow whatever they tell you and you say OK,” Adamma explained.

The man they were going to live with was Jean Claude “Kodjo” Toviave who, in February 2001, left Togo for the U.S., seeking political asylum. His request for asylum was granted in March 2002, and he eventually settled in Ypsilanti, Michigan.

Kodjo had a perfect plan: Bring all four minors to the U.S. under the guise of being his children so he could fraudulently collect welfare checks for each until they were 18 years old. He made each child 5 years younger than they were on their bogus documents, so he had more years to collect the money.

The four victims were regularly beaten with broomsticks, a toilet plunger, sticks, ice scrappers and phone chargers if they failed to obey Kodjo's orders to complete household chores. They were forced to do chores on a weekly and sometimes daily basis, spanning nearly five years. This domestic work included all the cooking and cleaning in the house, hand-washing laundry, ironing Kodjo's suits, shining his shoes, washing and vacuuming his car, babysitting the children of his friends and cleaning his friend's home.

Adamma said she would have to clean people’s houses but was never allowed to keep the money she earned.

“We have to give it to him because he has to buy our clothes, but he wasn't buying them. We weren't getting any clothes,” Adamma said.

In addition to force and threats of force, Kodjo used food and sleep deprivation as punishment.

All four children were severally malnourished and often went to school with bruises and other injuries. The food was regulated because Kodjo wanted them to stay small so they continued to look young.

Child Protection Services (CPS) were called by school authorities several times, yet nothing ever happened to address their situation.

All four children were severally malnourished and often went to school with bruises and other injuries. The food was regulated because Kodjo wanted them to stay small so they continued to look young.

There were so many CPS reports that found no evidence of abuse after a home inspection that teachers started being more pro-active in helping the children.

“Kodjo was so charming and manipulative and some of them (at CPS) ended up admitting that they feared him,” Allen said.

It’s when one of the children landed in the emergency room with a broken wrist in 2011 that HSI Forensic Interview Specialist Amy Allen got involved after receiving a call from a law enforcement colleague asking if she was interested in taking on the case.

But Adamma was finding her voice and started challenging Kodjo’s rules. Five years had passed, and she was 22 years old.

“We think Adamma had aged out to 18, even though that was a fake age that he had assigned her. So, she wasn't bringing any welfare money into the house,” Allen said. “Also, with just her strength of starting to talk back to him, I think he realized he wasn't going to be able to continue to manipulate her for too long.”

Eventually, Kodjo asked Adamma for the house keys and told her to leave.

Adamma knew this was the time to make her move and break free from the abuse.

She used a prepaid phone given to her by one of her teachers and called a classmate.

“I never went back,” Adamma said. Today, Adamma, Mandla, Fatima and Thulani are moving forward with their lives, but the emotional toll it took will likely linger forever.

Adamma spent a few years at the home of her classmate and eventually went to college. Today, she is married with children. But “it was hard for me to learn to trust,” she said.

“She was very quiet, very withdrawn, but very cooperative,” Allen said when she first interviewed Adamma. “She was worried about her immigration status, so I had to reassure her that she was safe and would not be going back to Togo.”

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