The Trafficked (16 page)

36

 

Maya needed to go to the toilet. She was hungry and she was dirty. She was not chained up like the other girls, but she was too frightened to move in any case. Maya was not allowed to leave the room. She was only allowed to walk as far as the toilet. She was not allowed to talk to anyone, and she was told that if she stepped outside the windowless room she would be killed straight away. The other girls were older than her and had been there for a long time. Maya listened to them talk to one another. They had to go with men all day long. Downstairs, where there were rooms. The men would come and then all the girls had to go and sit in a room and the men would choose which ones they wanted. The girls were never allowed to leave the Bordello. When they were finished with one man they had to go back in the room and wait for another. At night-time they came to sleep for a few hours and the Kano chained them up.

Now Maya must wait until the Kano came to unlock the chains and then she could go to the toilet. At the end of the room was a sick girl. She did not go to work
with the others—she was too ill. The more Maya looked at the girl, the more uncomfortable Maya became. She seemed to just be laying there staring at Maya. Was she dead too, like Perla? Then the sick girl coughed and Maya jumped. The sick girl smiled at her and held her hand up to beckon Maya to her. Maya looked at the arm—it stayed suspended in the air, thin and black like a spider’s leg. The girl started coughing again. She turned away from Maya and coughed for several minutes, spitting blood out over her blanket before laying back down, exhausted. For a few minutes Maya watched the girl’s chest rise and fall and listened to the squealing noise of her difficult breathing, then the girl turned and beckoned Maya forward again.

Maya walked gingerly towards her. When she got to her side Maya saw that she was not much older than Perla had been.

‘My name is Rosie.’ The girl pointed to herself and then pointed at Maya. ‘You?’

‘Maya.’

‘Come,’ Rosie smiled.

Maya climbed onto the bed and lay down beside her and Rosie wrapped her arm around her and drew her in close. They lay like two spoons in the murky darkness of the quiet room and listened to the sound of the other girls sleeping.

‘Listen to me, Maya,’ Rosie whispered. ‘And I will tell you what you have to do to stay alive…’

37

 

‘It’s a lovely place, Father.’

They pulled up outside the white-painted villa, shaded with mature palms that left their shadows on the white walls. A mosaic front of blue tiles gave the place a Moorish feel.

‘We renovated an old government building, but it has a beautiful Spanish feel to it, and it’s important that we are in the city where the trouble is. But it is not as beautiful as the refuge in Angeles—that is built on the side of a mountain, surrounded by forest—you will see it, I hope.’

‘And how many children do you have here?’

‘Five more than we should—thirty-five, at the moment. We have expanded the refuge so many times over the years and still it never is big enough, but we are always working on ways to improve it. We have created small centres in the countryside. We realised early on that it was not enough just to rescue the children from the brothels and the prisons and streets. There was no point in just returning them to their families. The whole family needed to change. We are providing
them with an income by reviving traditional techniques, basket-weaving, coconut-shell jewellery, that kind of thing. We sell the things over the Internet and to trade fares. It has really taken off in the last two years. We now have five hundred families supported by the scheme. Supporting themselves and supporting each other.’

‘Where did most of the children come from?’

Father Finn’s face turned distant and troubled as he turned to talk to them.

‘From the streets, from the jails. The children are not supposed to be imprisoned any more. They have their own detention centres. But they are, sadly, not much better than the prison. They have very little to eat and no exercise; there are eighty to a cell that was only meant to house twenty. They have to take it in turns to sleep and the place is regularly flooded.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘We
still
find children locked up with adults, even though the government promised that it would stop. We go around regularly, usually every Saturday night, and see if there are any children locked up. We find it often.’ The Father looked back to the door to make sure he had time to tell them before they got inside the refuge. ‘When we found Eduardo he was locked in a cell with twelve men, made to clean their faeces around the stinking hole that is the toilet in the corner of the cell, and he was passed from lap to lap, raped in the corner of the cell. If he refused to let them have sex with him he was beaten and starved. If he cried he was beaten and starved. When we found him he was lying on the floor of the cell, covered in sores
and septic wounds, bitten by cockroaches and mosquitoes. He wasn’t even allowed the dignity of clothing…’ Father Finn banged his palm against the steering wheel and the anger returned to his face. ‘That’s why it is important to bring Eduardo’s case before government. They must be held accountable, no?’

Excited faces had begun appearing at the windows as soon as Father Finn parked up. Small hands waved furiously at them. The Father excused himself and marched off in his usual military fashion, as he went inside to organise the staff and children to come and greet their guests. Mann got the cases out of the boot and walked around to the front of the car. Becky stood and stared at him over the bonnet.

‘How can he bear it?’ She shook her head incredulously and shrugged her shoulders.

Mann could see that she was shell-shocked by the volume of human misery that they had encountered in one day. Maybe he had become desensitised over the years.

‘It’s one horrible story after another,’ she said quietly.

They heard the sound of excited children being organised at the front door. Then Mann thought it was not so much that he had gone numb; more likely he had been infected by Father Finn’s relentless hope.

‘He can bear it because he has enough love and hope to see it through. He will never stop trying. As long as the world allows it to carry on, Father Finn will keep fighting, and along the way he makes a big difference to people’s lives. He saves so many of them.’

‘But it’s hard to believe that such things go on here,
the place is so beautiful and the people so positive and happy. It just seems so wrong. They are lucky they have the Fathers to fight for them. I’m surprised that they are not deported.’

‘People try and get rid of the priests all ways. Some of the Father’s friends have been murdered, others have been beaten up. Father Finn has the scars to prove it, that’s why he walks so fast everywhere. He lives under the constant threat of assassination. The paedophile westerners that he attacks would just love to see him dead.’

Father Finn came back to hurry them and escort them into the refuge. He was obviously immensely proud of it and all the people inside it.

‘Come on, Becky, I would like to show you some of the work we do here and introduce you to the staff.’

‘That would be great, Father. I would love to see around.’

By the time they reached the door, Becky had ten girls hanging off her arms.

‘They think you’re a film star!’ said Father Finn. The staff—a group of four women and two men—had been patiently waiting to be introduced, smiling hopefully at Becky and Mann. Father Finn ushered them forward. ‘Mann, you remember most of these people, I am sure?’

‘Of course.’ Mann did the introductions. ‘Becky, these two lovely ladies at the end are Jenny and Clementa, they do the cooking.’

Clementa was a robust-looking woman in her sixties. Her ample breasts were contained in a pink T-shirt but
not supported by a bra and were resting on the waistband of a white apron tied around her waist. She was head cook. She spoke very little English but was so overcome and embarrassed that she hid her mouth as she smiled, to disguise the fact that she had two front teeth missing. Pretty-faced Jenny, her assistant, gave them a big toothy smile and a small curtsey.

‘Here is Maria—she is the housekeeper, keeps us all in line,’ he said, whilst introducing a woman no taller than a child but with the sinewy outline of one who never stopped working. ‘And this is Philip, the gardener, the newest addition to the refuge, who does a great job, as you can see…’ The young man eyed Becky over as he thanked Mann for his praise. ‘…and this wonderfully pregnant lady is Mercy, with her husband Ramon.’ Mercy was a no-nonsense-looking woman with the strong, pretty features of a woman of Spanish ancestry. Her husband, Ramon, was a man in his prime, with broad square shoulders and a handsome face. Mercy looked ready to pop. Her tight round stomach was a source of great joy to all those around, including the children, who kept rushing up to touch it.

‘Mercy and Ramon met here at the refuge, they were street children. Now they are responsible for setting up all the resource centres around the country. We now have twenty-five working cooperatives in the rural areas—all as a result of Mercy and Ramon’s hard work.’ Father Finn was obviously immensely proud of the couple. ‘You will see them when you come to Angeles. Like me, they are only visiting here in Davao and we have to get Mercy back home before she pops.’

They stepped forward to shake Becky’s hand. Mercy smiled and shook her head. Her English was very good. She remonstrated with the Father: ‘It is always a team effort. Please, come in, and welcome to our refuge.’

Mercy led the way through the first building into the second, which was a large high-ceilinged room with paintings and posters that the children had produced all around its walls, along with handicrafts they had made.

‘It has taken a few years to really take off, but now we have outlets all over the world. And we send representatives to tell schoolchildren about our work.’

‘Come inside and meet the rest of the children,’ said the Father.

From the corner of her eye Becky saw a small boy standing in the corner. He did not rush forward with the other children. He had a broad forehead and newly shorn hair that stood up bristly and black. His eyes were dark and smudged. His thick eyebrows were pinched together, giving him the look of someone carrying a weight of sorrow and pain on his small shoulders.

The father caught sight of him and went and knelt in front of him. ‘Eduardo! How is my brave boy today?’

Eduardo did not speak.

‘He is doing fine, Father,’ Mercy answered.

Father Finn turned the little boy’s arms over and examined his wounds.

‘Getting better already, Eduardo. Soon you’ll be as handsome as that man over there…’ He pointed to Mann.

Mann held his hands up in a surrender gesture. ‘He’s much better looking than me.’

Eduardo was not taking any notice of the Father or Mann, because he was staring transfixed at Becky.

Father Finn traced his line of vision. Becky smiled and mouthed ‘hello’.

‘You have an admirer,’ Father Finn said when he came back to join her. ‘Eduardo can’t keep his eyes off you.’

‘He’s so little to have suffered so much. It must be heartbreaking for you, Father, he looks so ill.’

‘The scars will heal, and one day he will smile again and then my heart will break with joy. One day we’ll have justice for him. I fear for his life unless I can make sure he is by my side twenty-four-seven. It’s going to take years to bring the government to justice. They are going to make it as difficult as possible.’

‘Is it really possible to recover from an ordeal like he’s been through?’

‘He will never forget, and we cannot undo the damage that has been done, but we will give him a home for life and look after him, that’s the best we can do, no? Come, Becky, we don’t often get visitors and the children want their autograph books signed. Sit here please.’

Becky thought he was kidding until she saw the children and the open books and eager pens waiting for her. She dutifully sat on the battered sofa in the open-plan lounge area, which was tile-floored and white-walled. The children had created a Filipino history frieze that ran around the walls. As she sat and
chatted to them and looked at their pictures, Eduardo inched closer until he was sitting so close to her that he was touching her, and all the time he kept his eyes glued to her face. When she stood to follow the children and be shown around the refuge, he slipped his hand into hers.

Mann left them to show Becky around; he’d been to the refuge many times. ‘Have you got Internet here, Father?’ he asked. ‘I can get it on my phone but it’s painfully slow.’

‘Of course, when it works—brown-outs are still the plague of the Philippines.’

Mann was in luck. The Internet was almost as slow as his mobile, but it was working. He checked his email and worked through it all until there was one left in Mann’s email tray. He almost deleted it as spam—he didn’t recognise the sender—but decided to open it.

BLANCO sends you greetings and he has a present
for you…press
Here
to collect your gift.

Your time is running out.

 

Mann clicked and waited. An image appeared. It was Amy Tang with a noose around her neck.

38

 

Maya lay very still and listened to Rosie.

‘Do as you are told, Maya. Do not fight the Kanos. Give in. But not in here…’ She tapped her head. ‘Keep in here safe. Then you will see your mamma again. Do whatever they want, then you will live…’ She smiled and reached around Maya and pulled her closer.

Maya’s eyes were wide as she stared out at the dawn that was trying to break through three small slats. They were too high and too narrow to see out of properly. They were meant purely to feed air into the stifling room. Rosie resumed her coughing so fiercely that she shooed Maya away with her hand and spat blood into her blanket. When she was finished she smiled at Maya’s concerned face and reassured her with a shake of the head. She waited a few minutes until she regained control of her breathing, then resumed her whispering.

‘When you see the Kano coming towards you with the buzzy stick you must put something in your mouth quick, before he pokes you with it. Put anything you can in your mouth—even your hand if you have to—because otherwise you will bite your tongue and you
will break your teeth. And, listen to me, Maya—keep a picture of your mama in your head. She will be looking for you, Maya. I know that she will be.’

‘Is
your
mama coming, Rosie?’

‘I don’t think so, Maya. My mama sold me to this place. It is too late for me. There is no one to come for me. But yours is on her way, I am sure. Never give up hope, never.’

Then Rosie fell asleep with her arm around Maya. Maya knew she should go back to her own bed now that the Kano would be coming soon, but Maya did not want to wake Rosie and she could not bear to leave. When she heard the Kano’s footsteps on the stairs she hoped if she laid very still the Kano would not see her. But the Kano saw everything. It was too late for her to run back to her bed. Now they would both pay the price of disobeying.