Globalization’s Ugly Side: Sex Slavery

In the grim side to globalization, scores of young girls from Vietnam are being transported across national borders to serve as sex slaves in countries like China and Cambodia. The traffickers prey on the daughters of poor, often illiterate families who are oblivious to the danger or consequences of human trafficking. These girls, often lured by false promises of profitable employment, are only a small part of the global sex trade. Indeed, according to the US State Department, there are half a million girls trafficked around the world every year. And despite the attempts to fight sex trafficking – from the police to non-governmental organizations to direct aid – there remain many hurdles, not least of which is the desire to improve one’s lot in life. In small villages where uneducated residents live in squalor on a dollar a day, the false promise of riches and a chance to help ones family may prove a lure too hard to combat. – YaleGlobal

Globalization's Ugly Side: Sex Slavery

John Boudreau
Thursday, June 11, 2009

RACH GIA CITY, Vietnam — The offer came to families on the edge of desperation, living and working around the clock on garbage dumps whose sickening stench seeps into their clothes.

A motherly woman accompanied by a kindly gentleman arrived one day in early December, shortly before the New Year's Tet celebration when the poorest of the poor hope for a little extra cash for modest festivities. The two said they were looking for attractive young women to work in a Ho Chi Minh City cafe, and they were ready to give each family a $60 advance — a small fortune for people barely scraping by on a couple of dollars a day — or less.

Though at least two fathers objected, they were overruled by their wives and daughters, who were willing to take any risk to help their struggling clans. After examining each girl like livestock, the man chose five of the prettiest teenagers, and picked two more from a neighboring area. The teens quickly packed a few belongings and left.

Seventeen-year-old Truong Thi Nhi Linh was one of those chosen. It was, she says, the best chance to help her family — a chance to make considerably more money than she earns working 4 p.m. to 4 a.m. in the dump, sloshing around on rainy nights in knee-high sludge among swarms of other workers looking for bits of junk.

She reassured her parents, who opposed her leaving. "I said, 'It's OK. I'm just going to work." She added, "I want to help my family."

Hours later, one of the few parents with a cell phone received a panicked call from their daughter — they were not headed north to Ho Chi Minh City but to Cambodia, where the girls would be forced into the sex trade.

It is a misfortune that falls on many young women in Southeast Asia with the twin vulnerabilities of being pretty and poor. Like their parents, they often are illiterate and profoundly uninformed about the dangers of international sex trafficking and how strangers drug or lure unsuspecting teens into a life of satisfying the cravings of foreign men. Their innocence is prized: Some Asian men are willing to pay as much as $600 to have sex with a virgin because they believe it will restore their youth, give them good fortune or even cure them of AIDS.

Vietnam, with an abundance of beautiful young women living in desperate straits, is a magnet for human brokers — some of whom pay families to marry off their daughters to men in Korea, Taiwan and China; others are linked directly to human trafficking. Parents often ignore the dangers to their daughters in pursuit of a better life.

"The families are so poor," said Quach Thi Phan, chairwoman of the Women's Union of Rach Gia City in Kien Giang Province, which organizes anti-trafficking educational campaigns. "They just think about how to get money, how to find a job."

In the case of the Rach Gia girls, the police conducted a last-minute raid near the Cambodian border to rescue them after receiving calls from a community member and, eventually, at least one worried parent. The almost routine incident received no local news coverage, underscoring the virtual daily threat to the world's underclass.

"It's globalization in its ugliest form," said Diep Vuong, president of Pacific Links Foundation, a Milpitas-based non-profit started by Vietnamese-Americans. The organization works to prevent human trafficking by providing educational opportunities to at-risk Vietnamese girls and those who escape the sex trade.

"If you don't know how to read the public announcements or have enough money for newspapers and you barely have enough to eat, how can you understand there are risks?" she said. "It's so easy to look the other way. I meet many young women who say, 'I know it's risky, but I must try because we are so poor.' I tell them, 'Do you think you'll be able to sleep with 15 guys a day?' They are mostly terrified and surprised; 'What are you talking about?' they ask."

A half-million young women are trafficked each year around the world, according to the U.S. State Department. In Vietnam, the government recently reported that last year there were 6,684 victims of trafficking, with 2,579 returned to their homes. It also said there were 21,038 people reported missing who could have been sold into prostitution.

Vietnamese authorities in recent years have moved aggressively to stop sex trafficking. Police in the home province of the seven teens, for instance, have officers dedicated to cracking down on traffickers. Overall, though, neither the national nor local governments has enough resources to adequately fight the problem, experts say.

In 2004, NBC's "Dateline" news show broadcast a report about Cambodia's sex trade. To the horror of the Vietnamese-American community, the young prostitutes spoke Vietnamese. As a result of the broadcast, a number of Vietnamese in the Bay Area and elsewhere began creating programs to prevent such sexual exploitation, said Benjamin Lee, chairman of San Jose-based Aid to Children Without Parents.

They set up organizations to provide opportunities and hope for those at the bottom of the economic ladder and assistance to those who escape forced prostitution.

But they face a culture that makes their task difficult; in some cases, parents willingly sell their daughters to traffickers for thousands of dollars. "In the Eastern way of thinking, the children have to obey their parents: 'I have my body. I will do this for my family,'" said Nguyen Kim Thien, director of Ho Chi Minh City's Little Rose Warm Shelter for sexually abused girls.

This modern-day slavery takes root in regions isolated by abject poverty and proximity to Cambodia's thriving sex trade, such as parts of the Mekong Delta. One such place is on the outskirts of the bustling port city of Rach Gia in a majority ethnic Khmer community.

Though Vietnam boasts a literacy rate of more than 90 percent, many of the residents in this community have little or no education. They spend their days and nights picking through heaps of garbage for recyclable materials, such as plastic and metal. Children, barefoot and barely clothed, play amid the foul-smelling waste.

"This is a community in which we had to teach them how to use soap, how to use a bathroom — the basics of the basics," said Caroline Nguyen Ticarro-Parker, co-founder and executive director of the U.S.-based Catalyst Foundation, which has set up a school in the area and is working with Habitat for Humanity to construct homes for people in the community.

"Their day-to-day life is, 'How do I get food on the table today? Who is going to take care of my child today?'" she said. "Life has been so hard for them. They can't think of the future."

They live in huts with thatch roofs on or near a garbage dump swarming with flies and mosquitos. On a recent morning, 23-year-old Kim Thi Mau sorted dirty plastic bags. Last year, her 4-year-old son Lam drowned when he fell in a ditch filled with water while she and her husband worked nearby. She has two other sons, 20 months and 4 months.

"I hope there is a school that can take care of my children — some place not like this, dirty," said Kim who, like her 28-year-old husband, is illiterate.

So it can be difficult to resist strangers who arrive in a village promising good-paying jobs. Many of these families survive on $1 or $2 a day. In the case of the seven teens, the traffickers said they could pay each one about $120 a month working in a city cafe.

On that December morning, a respected family in Rach Gia's Vinh Quang ward sent out word about the employment offer. More than a dozen girls and their families gathered at a house.

"The man looked at our faces and said, 'This girl is OK. This one is OK,'" said Danh Thi Anh, a shy and soft-spoken 20-year-old, who was one of those picked and 19 at the time.

The selection process began at 11 a.m. By 1 p.m. the teens were on the road. Soon after they left, a Catalyst employee who tried to dissuade the teens from going told one member of the community to call the police.

Most of the young women had never been far from home by themselves. Within a few hours, one figured out they were not heading to Ho Chi Minh City, Truong and two other teens recalled.

The girls, using a cell phone of them had, began calling home, and eventually one of their mothers called the police.

Some of the teens began to cry. They had arrived in An Bien City, south of Rach Gia, and were to travel to the coast and board a fishing boat to Cambodia.

"We were very afraid," Truong said. "We did not know where we were."

But police, who had tracked other human traffickers taking the same route, found them at 10 p.m. They arrested the woman who was escorting them. The man got away.

Around 4 a.m. the next day, the teens were back in Rach Gia.

It is unclear what the community learned from the narrow escape. Catalyst Foundation representatives held community meetings afterwards. "We said, 'This is what will happen: Your child will be raped, and not by one person, but by many people,'" said the organization's co-founder Nguyen. But she can't be sure it won't happen again.

For those living in brutal conditions, Nguyen said, "It is a lot of money."

Seventeen-year-old Truong, who lives in a cramped thatched home elevated over water with nine family members, said she has not thought much about what would have happened to her had she ended up in Cambodia.

"I don't think about that," she said passively. "If it had happened, it would have been because it was my destiny. That's the life."

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