A man dreaming of a quiet retirement.

I just got back from sitting with a man called Jeff, while he showed me pictures of the home he’d been building for his retirement. Jeff is grey, and thin, but there is an assurance in his manner, which somehow reflects the experience of a man used to being in control. He had his computer on an ordinary desk next to his kitchen. While he carefully made us tea, we watched the snow outside his window, and listened as he complained about the robberies that had happened at the café and sports club he runs, and about the amount of tax he has to pay.
On the wall are pictures of his family, his wife, stepsons and stepdaughters. He has been married for ten years, and is proud of it. He’s sixty now, and soon he’ll be able to move with her to the house he’s built and relax a little.
It would have been a cosy and comforting scene, if it wasn’t for the fact that the room next door was full of half naked Thai women and that we were sitting inside an erotic massage parlour. It was from the exploitation of these women that Jeff was building his retirement home in Thailand. Pimping young women had paid for the beautiful garden and the terrace. The only disruption to his plan so far has been raids by the police checking that his women have the right papers. So far he’s got away with it.
Quietly during the conversation, we found out more about how this secret world operates, but what was most striking was just how banal and ordinary this evil is in his mind. For him, it was no different from selling drinks, or hiring out a tennis court. In his own eyes he was just a hard-pressed businessman trying to make a living, so he could retire with his wife and pass his remaining days with her family in Thailand.
The human mind is very adept at rationalising the wrong that we do, seeing it as normal, or “the way the world works”. Although we might not do what Jeff does, to a certain extent we rationalize the life we live, not buying ethical products, not caring about the homeless person in the street, not visiting an elderly neighbour, just seeing ourselves as too busy, or finding an excuse as to why the way we live is fine. We are hard-pressed, just trying to make it through the day; it’s the way the world works. Just like Jeff.

Trust

She had invited us through the front of the Thai massage parlour, into the back area where the women wait, watch TV and get ready. We sat there listening as she poured out her anger and frustration.  It struck me once again how the normal face of exploitation is boredom and exhaustion, punctuated by violence and fear. It was an ordinary living room, sofas, chairs, cigarette smoke, a TV showing Thai programs and a security camera giving a view of the front door. They were on the lookout for police making checks or violent customers. Whichever came, they were afraid.
As we talked about what was happening, the woman opened up and told us about the trafficking routes, the debts imposed on the women and the forced prostitution that followed. She kept coming back to the same word "trust". Could she trust us? Could she trust the Belgian authorities? How could she trust anyone? After years in Belgium, she tried to look after the younger women in the massage parlours, but it was hard to help them. It was a picture of a life on a knife-edge.

We offered help with visas, with alternatives to life in the massage parlours. We tried to show a way out. Again and again she asked “Can I trust you?” There was no way to prove that she could. All we can do is be consistent, keep going, keep showing up, keep trying to help. Eventually, perhaps, we will gain enough trust to really help. When you are isolated and abused you can close up to everything, even to those trying to help you. When she asked why we would try to help her and people like her, we pointed to the fact that as Christians we believe that everyone is of infinite worth. By the end of the conversation her eyes glistened with tears.
One of the many problems with a society that treats everything as a commodity is that there is a massive erosion of trust. Women find it hard to trust men, children are wary of adults. Parents look at strangers to find the danger that could be in them. Few people trust the advertising agents, and no one trusts a politician. Only when we recognise worth instead of looking for a bargain, and value people above products will we rebuild the trust that we all so desperately need. For many of the women we work with, it is the key to freedom.