Breaking Free (6 page)

She told the pasty-faced
meebons
that she was the wife of a white foreigner and that it was in the best interests of the brothel for the girls to stay healthy. She showed them her stash of condoms and soap. They were impressed with her status. They also wanted their girls to be hearty so they could bring in more money. So, they let her in. Soon, they even let Somaly bring some of the sicker girls to the clinic for medical care.

Somaly loved being able to wash and feed these girls at the clinic.

She hated promising to get them back in time for work each night.

Spending time in the brothels of Kratie was the hardest, most invigorating work Somaly had ever done. She was so grateful for every girl she met. This was where Somaly belonged. She knew it in her gut. And yet, there was so much more she wanted to do for them besides hand them a box of condoms and some soap.

She made an unspoken promise to each and every young woman. She would get them out if it was the last thing she did.

“Life is life. You were born alone, you can die alone, but how will you manage your life? I prefer to die for good causes.”

~ Somaly Mam

Finding Her Cause

Somaly’s plan started with one girl. She was sixteen years old with dark skin and pin-straight hair. It wasn’t that she was incurably sick or broken in any new way. It was just impossible for Somaly to watch another girl be held captive in this brutal system.

Somaly talked to one of the Kratie
meebons
and told her the girl needed to come to the clinic for care. Then she told the girl to meet her in a secret location instead of coming to the clinic.

Somaly got a car from MSF and drove the girl to a village about ten miles away. In the village lived a seamstress. Somaly had already paid her $100. In return, the seamstress promised to take in the girl and train her in sewing, which would hopefully lead her to a job and a way to live on her own.

One hundred dollars was a lot of money in Cambodia in the late nineties. Somaly just prayed it was enough to buy this girl’s escape route.

When the
meebon
came looking for the girl at the MSF clinic, the doctors and nurses swore she had never shown up. Somaly was already back from her mission and shrugged her shoulders, too, as if to say
Sorry, the girl must’ve fled
.

After it worked with the first girl, Somaly did it with another two. And then two more. She had to be clever and selective. She picked girls from different brothels in different parts of town. That way she left no trail behind.

The seamstress turned out to be an incredible ally. She was true to her word and took good care of Somaly’s escapees. But Somaly could never visit them. And once they left the seamstress for their new lives, Somaly had no idea where they went, whether they made it on their own or got yanked back into the nightmare of trafficking.

She wished more than anything that she could take in all these girls somehow. She wanted to build a safe house where the pimps and
meebons
couldn’t find them. She started mapping out exactly what this would look like, how much funding it would take, and how many cots she could fit side by side on the floor. She needed to get more seamstresses and sewing machines, too, so the girls could be taught a marketable skill. It was about more than just pulling them out of the brothels. Somaly knew that if she were really going to help them survive, she needed to give them a chance to start over, to earn an income, to see themselves as new and empowered.

Pierre and one of his colleagues from MSF started writing a charter to collect funds for Somaly’s survivor-empowerment project. Then, two unexpected things happened: Pierre got another job with an American relief agency and had to move back to Phnom Penh, and Somaly realized she was pregnant.

“[My children] have to feel beloved.”

~ Somaly Mam

Little Flowers

Somaly was not thrilled about having a baby. She thought children were too vulnerable. Every day she was hearing about more and more little girls being kidnapped or enslaved. How would she ever protect this new being? She watched her belly start to grow. She had to figure it out, and soon.

Somaly and Pierre moved to a neighborhood just outside of Phnom Penh that turned out to be full of brothels. There was a street near their home called
La Rue des Petites Fleurs
(The Street of Little Flowers). Somaly knew that meant it was full of young girls for sale.

She began each morning making her rounds to the brothels. She gave out condoms and took girls into the nearby clinic. The alleys of Phnom Penh were all too familiar. It was so painful and surreal to be retracing her own footsteps, breathing in mountains of garbage, and hearing the
meebons
screeching.

But Somaly knew she had to charge through the tornado of gruesome memories. Every time she felt like turning around, she looked up to see more girls’ painted faces peeking out of shacks. She could not ignore those white painted cheeks and stained lips.

She knocked on each door firmly. She told the
meebons
she was a health worker for MSF. Even though that wasn’t exactly true anymore, Somaly didn’t care. She was done playing by the rules.

Meanwhile, Somaly’s family was expanding by the minute. One of her adopted sisters from Thlok Chhrov, Phanna, came to Somaly and admitted tearfully that her husband wanted to sell their daughter Ning. Phanna was desperate to save her. She was also too scared to disobey her violent husband. Somaly was eight months pregnant, but it wasn’t even a choice for her. She told Phanna that from now on, Ning would live safely with her and Pierre. And so her five-year-old niece moved in and soon became a daughter to Somaly.

In 1995, Somaly gave birth to a beautiful little girl named Adana. The moment she became a mother, Somaly felt her world open up with hope and possibility. All of her fears melted away when she hugged Adana in her arms. Those new, trusting eyes looked back at her with pure love. Somaly swore to Adana that she would always keep her safe.

Soon after Adana’s birth, Somaly got a knock on the door from a man named Robert Deutsch. Robert ran an American relief agency and needed help because a mother from the village was sure her daughter had been sold into a brothel. The girl’s name was Srey. She’d been tricked by a family friend. Robert respected Somaly’s commitment to her cause and promised they’d work as a team to save Srey.

Somaly found a police officer whom she trusted. She had him go into the brothel disguised as a client and ask for Srey. The
meebons
told him Srey was too sick to serve anybody. So Somaly and Robert gathered a few more policemen and tried to stage their first brothel raid.

It wasn’t exactly a success. The pimps were forcing the girls out the back door while Somaly and her team came through the front. But they did manage to rescue Srey, who was delirious and nearly unconscious. Somaly handed her back to her mother and they filed charges at the police station. They all felt at least a little triumphant.

The only thing was, the pimps had gotten Srey addicted to heavy drugs to keep her obedient. When Srey got home and started detoxing, she got very sick. Srey’s mom told Somaly that she couldn’t handle this howling animal that used to be her daughter. Then she basically left Srey on Somaly’s doorstep.

Somaly took her in and told Srey it would all start getting better now.

FICTION:

Pimps and traffickers protect the girls they bring into the sex trade and share whatever money is earned.

FACT:

Pimps and traffickers offer no protection and rarely share a single cent. Instead, they make their victims earn a certain amount (quota) each night, and if that amount isn’t made, the victims suffer severe beatings.

Ready to Fly

Somaly never thought she’d run a shelter out of her home, but that’s what happened. After Srey came to live with them, it felt impossible to close the door on the next girl, or the one after that.

Meanwhile, Somaly had a newborn baby to take care of. Some of the girls Somaly took in were pregnant, too, or they brought their young children with them. Pierre wasn’t making that much money at his relief agency. The house where she and Pierre lived had two bedrooms and a living room. It was getting very crowded. And there were a lot of mouths to feed. Somaly got a job in real estate, mostly so she could look for a bigger home just for the rescued girls.

Pierre and his friend finished the charter for Somaly’s charity project. She called her organization AFESIP. In French, it stands for
Agir Pour les Femmes en Situation Précaire
, or in English, Acting for Women in Distressing Situations. Somaly marched the charter down to the offices of the European Union (a group of European countries). They had a representative in Phnom Penh.

Somaly explained they needed more space, some beds, and sewing machines. The representative asked why. Somaly said there were thousands of victims of sexual exploitation who needed to be rescued. They needed a safe place to stay where they could learn new skills to start over. The people at the European Union office just shrugged and said they didn’t think there was a problem with forced prostitution.

Somaly wanted to shake them and slap them silly, though she knew that would never help her get the money she needed. So she filed her application for funds and walked out. It was like throwing all of her hopes into the wind.

It took months of arguing her case and pleading. She spoke to anyone and everyone who would listen. Meanwhile, her house was getting fuller and more chaotic every day. One night, Pierre said he couldn’t take it anymore. He told Somaly that she had to find a new place for all the girls to stay, or he would throw them out on the street.

Save the Children UK was the first organization to send a helping hand. They offered Somaly a one-room house on stilts. It had just enough room to lay out the girls’ mats on the floor for sleeping. Then PADEK (the anti-poverty organization that helped rescue Srey) donated $6,000 in starter funds. Somaly was so relieved she felt like she had just sprouted wings.

And she was ready to fly.

The scars on her skin and the nightmares that still haunted her each night—they’d all led Somaly here, to this moment. As she lay those mats down, she thought about all the new dreams these girls would make together. She felt like she was buzzing with purpose and promise.

She also knew she needed more than beds and sewing machines to make her center feel safe and bright. She couldn’t be there around the clock. She wanted a trusted soul to live there with the rescued girls, someone who would be compassionate and nurturing. But, who?

Then she thought of the perfect answer. She went back to Thlok Chhrov and asked her adoptive mother, Pen Navy. Her mother was crying as she said
Yes, of course
. Somaly also got one of her adoptive sisters to teach the girls sewing. They lined up the sewing machines under the stilts of the house. The hum of stitching was like an engine fueling their spirits, vibrating in the floorboards, pushing them into their futures.