Bought and Sold (Part 3 of 3) Page 9

  I think Claire must have said something to the owner of the shop, because one day, just before closing time, a man came in and started talking to me, asking me about myself. I was nervous at first, and even thought for a moment that it might be some sort of trap. But the man was pleasant and not in any way intimidating, and when he told me that he worked for an anti-trafficking charity and gave me a phone number to call if I ever needed someone to talk to, I took the bit of paper he held out to me.

  I didn’t call the number immediately. In fact, I almost forgot about it, until I got fed up with walking down roads with my fists clenched, trying to stop myself turning round to see if anyone really was following me. Within days of plucking up the courage to make that phone call, I was in a safe house in London.

  After all the turmoil and chaos I had been used to, it was like living in a calm, well-organised family home. The people who ran the safe house were supportive and taught me some of the life skills I had missed out on learning during my lost teenage years. I still had terrible nightmares, many of which involved the sound of gunshots, and I would often wake up sobbing, convinced that Christoph was standing in the shadows of the bedroom. What had changed, though, was that now when I woke up in the night, sweating and frightened, I could go downstairs and there would be someone to talk to and to tell me everything was all right and I was safe.

  There were three other girls in the house while I was there. They had all been trafficked and one of them had a baby. You might assume we would have talked to each other about what had happened to us, but we didn’t really say much at all. Perhaps we didn’t need to. I think there was a silently acknowledged bond between us, which would certainly explain why none of the other girls told the staff when I started drinking again. I was breaking one of the strictest rules of the house, and this time there really was no one else to blame but myself.

  I told myself that drinking was just a coping mechanism. But I had seen the damage alcohol can do and I should have known better than anyone that it doesn’t help you to cope at all; quite the reverse, in fact.

  I managed to keep it a secret for a while, until I got really drunk one day and started crying and carrying on downstairs. The staff at the house must have realised immediately what was wrong with me. When they searched my room and found the bottle, they called an ambulance and I was taken to hospital and sectioned. I had been in the safe house for about six months and I thought at the time that it was rather a drastic overreaction to my getting drunk, but I think they were scared – for me, for the other very vulnerable girls in the house and for the baby. Maybe they hoped, too, that it would be a wake-up call that would make me realise wrong decisions have consequences. It was certainly a shock to find myself in a psychiatric hospital again.

  When I was discharged from the hospital after just a few days, they wouldn’t let me go back to the safe house: I had broken the rules and there were no second chances. I was devastated. Just when I was finally getting the practical and emotional support I so desperately needed, I had messed it all up. A voice in my head kept saying, ‘Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.’ What made me feel even worse was the knowledge that I had let down the people who had trusted me and who had done everything they could to try to help me.

  Fortunately, with the help and support of my grandparents, I was eventually able to move into a small rented flat. Then I found a part-time job and enrolled on a course at college to try to catch up on my prematurely terminated education. I still find it difficult to stick at things, and sometimes it all feels too difficult and too much of struggle. When that happens, I remind myself that at least I now have a future, which, for a long time, is something I didn’t think I would ever have.

  I’m determined not to see myself as a victim. I used to get frustrated and miserable because I didn’t seem to be getting over what happened to me in Greece – until I realised that I wasn’t ever going to ‘get over’ it. That doesn’t mean I’m constantly replaying the events of those years in my mind. I know that I have to accept the fact that, as I can’t change what happened, I need to focus my energies on keeping it in the past and learning to live with it. I used to blame myself for everything, but I know now that, at 14 years old, I wasn’t really responsible for it, or emotionally strong enough to resist it.

  Some people will blame me entirely for everything that happened to me and perhaps particularly for not attempting to escape when I had the opportunity to do so. Someone told me recently that hostages and kidnap victims can develop something called Stockholm syndrome, which makes them empathise with their captors and even form strong attachments with them. I think the idea is that affected hostages respond defensively to the trauma of being threatened and beaten by starting to see lack of abuse as kindness. Maybe that’s what happened to me. The reasons don’t really matter now.

  I don’t blame my mum for it either: I know she’ll always regret leaving me with Jak. Mum and Nikos are still together. They’ve moved away from the town where they met – and where I met Jak – but they’ve stayed in Greece. I’ll never go back to Greece, so I really miss her. We talk regularly on the phone and she comes to England as often as she can, and I’ve got my grandparents, who would do whatever they could to help me if I ever needed it. Old habits die hard though, and I still have a tendency to pretend that everything’s okay, even when it isn’t.

  I’m lucky to have had the support of some really good friends, and particularly of my sister. I didn’t see or have any contact with my sister for six years, so I’m really grateful to have a good relationship with her now. She’s doing really well and I’m very proud of her. I haven’t said much about her in my story because I don’t want to drag her into it. As things turned out, not coming to Greece with Mum and me was probably the best thing that could have happened to her.

  It’s funny: when I was in Greece I was worried about not having a future; now that I’m back here, it’s the past that’s at the root of all my problems. All I can do is try to focus on making the best of whatever lies ahead. It isn’t easy; I often feel as though I’m struggling to keep my head above water while swimming round and round in a pool of black despair. Sometimes, the anger that is always there in a tight little knot inside me bursts out and I fly into a rage. I’ve never physically hurt anyone though, other than myself. For a while, whenever it all got too much, I would get drunk; then the fear would come back and I would start to cry. But mostly I do what everyone else does: I cope the best way I can.

  I didn’t even know human trafficking existed when I went to Greece at the age of 14. In fact, I was just one of an estimated 2.4 million men, women and children who are currently victims of human trafficking around the world. Some of them are physically incarcerated, while others are imprisoned – as I was – by fear, threats and violence. The buying and selling of people is big business, which generates a massive global income second only to that of drug trafficking.

  I want to tell you that since I’ve been back in England I’ve moved on and I’m doing great. The truth is that I haven’t and I’m not. But I am doing okay, and I know things will get better. There are always going to be times when my life stalls and when even treading water seems to require a huge amount of effort I simply can’t make. That’s just the way it is. I can’t change it, so I have to learn to live with it. I’m not going to let it beat me though. For almost six years from the age of 14, I lived a life of unrelenting isolation, degradation and brutality. If I can survive that – and I did – I know that I can survive anything.

  What happened to me in Greece will affect me for the rest of my life – both mentally and physically, in the form of the injuries I sustained during the course of many beatings. I still battle against low self-esteem and I often have nightmares that are so real and terrifying that I’m afraid to go back to sleep. But I know now that I was one of the lucky ones, because I escaped and I do have a future; whereas many of the other millions of people who are currently victims of trafficking will continue to be bought and sold
for the rest of their lives.

  Some Facts about Modern-day Slavery

  Every day, in countries throughout the world, countless numbers of men, women and children are being forced to work long hours, often in appalling conditions for little or no pay. Most of them will never be rescued or see their homes or loved ones again.

  It is difficult to estimate accurately the number of people who are currently being exploited for forced labour worldwide. Some research indicates that the figure is 20.9 million. Other reports put it even higher, at 30 million, including 5.5 million children.

  Not all victims of exploitation are trafficked across borders and to other countries. According to a report by the UN Office on Drugs and Crime, there were 2.4 million victims of human trafficking worldwide in 2012, 80 per cent of whom were being exploited as sexual slaves. But, again, other research indicates that the true figure is much higher, at around 9 million.

  Globalisation and the demand for cheap labour have helped to make modern-day slavery a lucrative business. The income earned by the criminals who buy and sell other human beings is estimated to be a massive $150 billion a year – an amount that is almost exactly equal to the entire UK budget for the NHS in the year 2013/14.

  In 2008, 42 countries had signed and ratified the Council of Europe Convention on Action against Trafficking in Human Beings. When the Convention came into force in the UK the following year, this country became bound by its rules and the National Referral Mechanism (NRM) was set in motion.

  The role of the NRM is to identify victims of human trafficking who have been trafficked into, out of or within the UK, and provide them with support and protection. It also collects and passes on information to the UK Human Trafficking Centre for the purpose of gaining a better understanding of the extent and scope of the problem.

  In 2013, the NRM received 1,746 referrals of potential victims of trafficking from 112 countries. First on the list was Albania, with 268 referrals; then Nigeria with 186; Vietnam with 181; Romania with 104; and, in fifth place, the UK with 90. Trafficking victims can be referred to the NRM by numerous agencies – including the police, the Home Office, the Salvation Army and other charitable organisations – but only with their consent. As a result, these figures are a significant underestimate of the real situation in the UK – a fact that has become shockingly apparent following recent horrific reports of the sexual abuse of children and young people in Rotherham and Rochdale. The truth is that we can only imagine how many men, women and children in this country are living lives of abject misery while being subjected to ruthless exploitation.

  There are many reasons why people are vulnerable to slavery. Some victims are incredibly poor and have been offered jobs they thought would lift their families out of poverty. Some have put their trust in untrustworthy people and have been tricked by boyfriends, family friends or other people who appeared to care about them. And some have been displaced as refugees or left widowed or orphaned by war. Whatever their circumstances and whatever country they came from or were trafficked to, the one common thread that unites them all is that each and every one of them is somebody’s brother, sister, son, daughter, mother, father, husband, wife, nephew, niece or friend.

  It’s important to be aware of the facts and figures related to modern-day slavery. But it’s even more important to remember that behind the statistics there are human beings who deserve, as we all do, the most basic human right of being able to live their lives in peace and freedom.

  A Police Perspective on Human Trafficking in the UK

  by Robin*

  As a Detective Constable working for a UK Sexual Crime Unit, I’ve seen a massive change during the last 12 months in terms of the commitment of all agencies involved in tackling human trafficking. We now work a lot more closely with the NHS and local authorities, as well as alongside the Home Office Border Force in an attempt to identify victims of human trafficking as they pass through airports. My own police force is also in the process of training every frontline police officer and police community support officer (PCSO) to identify and assist possible victims.

  Perhaps as a direct result of this increased awareness, something else that has changed in recent months is the way traffickers operate. For example, many victims of sex trafficking are now being taken to hotels, rather than to the more stereotypical ‘massage parlour’ brothels. The traffickers advertise on certain websites, take bookings for three or four days and then move on to another hotel in another area. Other victims are being held in houses in residential streets, where they live and are visited by clients, rather than being moved about as they would have been in the past.

  Labour trafficking has also increased in the last few years – or, at least, it is being reported more often. But we are still a long way from establishing the true extent of the problem in the UK. One of the reasons for that is the fact that many victims of labour trafficking don’t really understand that they are being exploited. For example, what often happens is that someone living in abject poverty in an Eastern European country is promised a reasonably paid job in the UK. Then, when they get here, they are paid just a few pounds a day and have to sleep in a small room with five other men in the same situation. They may feel they don’t have any choice – maybe they’ve entered the country illegally or owe the traffickers money for bringing them here – and they tell themselves that at least they’re earning a couple of pounds more than they would be getting at home.

  There are many different types of labour trafficking and exploitation occurring in the UK today: young Vietnamese males forced to stay in buildings that are being used as cannabis farms to tend the plants; Vietnamese females working in nail bars for next to no money; males and females of all nationalities picking vegetables; and males working on fishing vessels who don’t set foot on dry land for months on end and who, again, earn little or no money.

  The police and the general public in this country have a greater awareness of trafficking and slavery than they did just a short time ago. But we are still nowhere near rescuing enough victims. To be able to make a real impact, the police need the help and support of the public – just as they do when tackling any sort of crime. We need people to be nosy about the local car wash or nail bar and about the house on their street that is visited by men at all hours of the day and night and lived in by women who rarely go out. The following are some of the possible indicators to look out for:

  Do people appear to be living and working at the same address?

  Are they collected very early in the morning and/or returned late at night on a regular basis?

  Do they have inappropriate clothing for the work they are performing and/or lack safety equipment?

  Do they have any signs of physical injury or malnourishment?

  Do they look unkempt?

  Are they isolated from the local community and/or appear to be under the control or influence of others?

  It is important, too, that victims of trafficking themselves understand that the police in the UK want to help them. There aren’t the issues of corruption here that there might be amongst the police forces in their own countries and they need to know they can trust us. Despite what the traffickers may tell them, if they are genuine victims of trafficking, there will probably be no immigration issues involved in our dealings with them. The same goes for British nationals who have been trafficked within the UK or abroad: whatever the circumstances, they can come to the police for help and support. Or, if they don’t feel they can go to the police for some reason, they can contact Crime Stoppers or the Modern Slavery helpline.

  Crime Stoppers

  Phone number: 0800 555 111

  Website: https://crimestoppers-uk.org

  Modern Slavery

  Phone number: 0800 0121 700

  Website: https://modernslavery.co.uk

  * Robin (not his real name) played a vital role in protecting and supporting trafficking victim Sophie Hayes (author of the book Trafficked) when she was pursued in Englan
d by the man who had trafficked her to Italy.

  Gripped by Bought and Sold?

  Read Trafficked, the story of how a British girl was forced into the dark and dangerous world of the sex trade – and how she survived.

  Read an exclusive excerpt now.

  Chapter 1

  My brother’s 18th birthday party was an elaborate event – a glamorous celebration that had been carefully planned by my mother down to the very last detail so that nothing could go wrong. We had a beautiful meal at a hotel with all our family and friends and when everyone had finished eating, my father took the microphone and announced that he’d been asked by my mother to give a speech about his eldest son. There were many good things that could be said about my brother, and a whole host of funny and touching anecdotes that could be told about him. So as the room fell quiet and everyone turned to look at my father, they were all smiling with a benign expectancy that quickly turned to horror when he announced that he could think of nothing to say other than that he was disappointed to have fathered such a ‘useless piece of shit’.

  For a moment, there was a stunned silence and then, as a low murmur of disapproval spread around the room, my grandfather leapt to his feet, snatched the microphone from my father’s hand and, with tears in his eyes, began to talk about all the good things his grandson, Jason, had done and how much everyone in the family loved him.

  When I eventually dared to look at my brother, he was sitting completely still, staring into the distance above everyone’s heads with an expression of almost physical pain on his face. I looked away quickly, feeling sick, and wondered how any man could do such a terrible thing to anyone, let alone his own child, who was guilty of nothing other than trying for 18 years to gain his father’s love and approval.