by Abby Sher
Other times she was sent away with businessmen for the night. Most of the time these were Chinese men who had a lot of money or a lot of friends. They would throw parties with ten or twenty of their pals. They would pass Somaly around like a bottle of wine, and she couldn’t leave until she gave them each pleasure.
When daylight came, Somaly tried desperately to purify her body. Smelling the stink of these men was the worst torture of all. There was no soap at the brothel, so she boiled tamarind leaves in salt water and dressed her wounds just like she’d done for the soldiers back in Chup. It wasn’t that she cared about the scars on her skin so much. She just wanted so badly to feel clean, to wash away everything that happened the night before, hoping for a new today.
After she soaked her skin in the tamarind water, Somaly slept in fitful nightmares. If she earned enough, the aunties fed her a bowl of rice when she woke up.
And then it was time to start all over again.
Somaly decided that in order to survive she had to pretend she was a magician. Every night at dusk, while she stirred together the coconut oil and white powder for her face, she imagined that she was turning into a wide, snowy plain. Or a mountain peak so high it kissed the sky. Untouched and untouchable.
She took her time, scooping out the gluey paste and spreading it on her cheeks. Then she drew on dark eyes, rosy cheeks, red lips. By the time the clients came in, she looked like an entirely different being. She closed her eyes forcefully. She shut out the world and left her body. She pictured herself drifting into a sea of white nothingness … disappearing completely.
“For myself it was too late. I felt like I had died. I had no idea where to go. My life was in darkness.”
~ Somaly Mam
I Was Once You
Somaly lived at the brothel for three brutal years. It wasn’t exactly “living.” It was numbing her body and her mind, again and again. Most of her waking hours felt helpless, hopeless, and bleak.
Somaly tried to run away from the meebons. A few times there were clients who promised to marry her and get her out of the system. But they were all liars. Each time she tried to flee, she was caught and tortured. After a while, she stopped plotting her escapes and just prayed for the morning, when she could boil more tamarind leaves to cleanse her body and try to sleep.
When the meebons discovered that Somaly was good at cleaning, they made her do some of the housework, too. They were kind to Somaly as long as she followed their orders. Over time, they even trusted her to stay alone in the house or to take care of the younger girls.
Every time a new girl was brought in, Somaly felt like she was dying a little bit more. Some girls already knew what was happening, but a lot of them walked in completely unaware. A “long-lost uncle” promised to take them to school. Or a “family friend” swore she knew of an easy way to make money. The worst was when girls were brought in by their own parents who sold them to Aunty Peuve for a small wad of cash—right in front of their faces.
How can you do this?! Somaly wanted to scream. But she knew it wouldn’t help to say any of this out loud. She tried always to give the new girls a gentle smile and sterilize their fresh cuts and bruises after their first night behind the scarves. That was all she could do.
Or was it?
There was something about those two new girls. They were a few years younger than Somaly, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Their hair was dark and shiny, laughing down their backs like hers used to do, too. Somaly watched as Aunty Peuve shoved them into a corner and tied them to a wooden pillar with wet rags.
Somaly felt like she was watching her younger self being led into this hell. Everything about their darting looks and untouched skin seemed so hopeful and desperate at the same time. They still smelled like soap and innocence. Seeing them tied up in the corner made Somaly wince like her whole body was knotted with pain. It was like rewinding her life … but maybe with the chance to play out a new ending.
She had given up on saving herself. She already felt dead inside. But she couldn’t take her eyes off those two girls huddled together. She couldn’t sit still and watch this happen to someone else again.
She knew she’d be punished. Her skin was already stinging with the memory of her last lashing. She could envision the snakes in the cellar without even closing her eyes. But she was done being trapped by fear. She stared at the new girls’ long hair and still-bright eyes. They had no idea how dark and hellish this existence could be.
Somaly was their only way out.
She had to be stealthy and smart. She waited until Aunty Peuve left to run errands. There was little light inside, but she guessed it was midday because there were no customers and only one guard by the staircase. Somaly knew this guard; he was fat and lazy and usually drunk on rice wine. Somaly stared at him out of the corner of her eye until he melted into a heavy, snoring sleep. Then she crawled over to the new girls without making a sound. She was quieter than a stone. It was like she’d practiced for this moment for the past three years, locking away all her words and emotions and sculpting her body into a shadow.
The girls were crouching and trembling now. There were no windows, of course, but through the cracks of straw and soot walls she could see their wet cheeks. Tears, because they were new. And also because they knew.
She found their wrists, tied tightly to a wooden pillar. How many times had Somaly wished the wood would just rot completely and crumble so they could all flee?
She worked quickly and precisely, kneading the rags apart, tugging with her teeth, even. Aunty Peuve had bound them fiercely. The cloths were wet and cold. The girls whimpered while Somaly slogged away. She pulled and clawed with a strength she didn’t even know she had. Finally they were both cut loose.
She couldn’t let the girls stop to thank her. She just got on her knees and crawled toward the door. They followed her past the rotting grass pallets. Past the cooking hole. Past the broken stairwell.
The guard was still passed out and drooling as they crept by. The alley below was deserted. It reeked of garbage and human waste. Nobody ever came here before dusk. Nobody even knew it existed besides men demanding sex.
Somaly saw the girls’ faces for one fleeting moment. Their skin was lighter than hers. Their eyes were wide and frightened. Their mouths were trembling and wanting to ask why, how, where?
Somaly said exactly three words: “Don’t stay here.”
They clutched each other’s hand and started running. She watched their skirts skimming over the broken ground, the puddles splashing as they darted between buildings.
Somaly knew she was once just like them. And now, thanks to her, their lives had become possible again.
The meebons figured out what had happened as soon as they came back. Somaly was dragged downstairs and punished severely, but no abuse could take away her feeling of victory. She knew she’d done right by those two new girls.
For days afterward, with every crack of the whip and every hour in the snake cellar, Somaly thought of their skirts and their bare feet underneath, sprinting to freedom.
FICTION:
Girls who work in the sex industry are there because they like it. They get treated to fancy clothes and cell phones from their pimps.
FACT:
Most girls in the sex industry are forced in by family, kidnappers, and rapists. It’s hard to measure because trafficking is so secretive, but UNICEF (a worldwide organization that defends the rights of children) estimates 1.2 million children are trafficked every year.
A Way Out
Business was slowing down at the brothel. Aunty Peuve made Somaly stand on the side of the road leading to the central market more and more to grab men. One night, Somaly saw a Land Cruiser driving slowly by her. It had a sign on it for one of the foreign humanitarian agencies that was sending money and food to Phnom Penh. The man who got out of the car wanted to rent Somaly for the night.
His name was Dietrich, and he offered to take Somaly to a guesthouse to sleep with her. Aunty
Peuve agreed as long as he swore to bring her back by morning.
Somaly had never met someone like Dietrich. First of all, he was white and only spoke Swiss German. Somaly spoke Khmer. She didn’t understand what he was saying when he offered to buy her some supper. No one who had paid to be with her had ever offered her food. Dietrich wanted to sit with her after supper and chat. He used a lot of wild gestures and laughed. Somaly got the feeling he was trying to make her laugh, too.
Then Dietrich took her back to the guesthouse where he was staying. To Somaly, it was incredibly fancy. Even though she was nineteen years old by now, she’d never seen a mattress or running water. The bed was so soft, she thought she was falling into a sinkhole when she sat down. When Dietrich asked if she wanted to wash up, the only water she saw in the bathroom was in the bottom of the toilet, so she splashed that on her face.
Dietrich turned on the shower for her, and when the water came shooting out of the spigot, Somaly shrieked in fear. Dietrich was patient and explained that the pipes couldn’t come after her or hurt her. He also handed her a bar of soap, which was the most delicious thing she’d smelled since the forest she’d called home as a child.
Though that night felt pretty decadent to Somaly, it was still a transaction. No matter how kind Dietrich was, she knew he had paid to use her body.
When Dietrich returned her to the brothel the next day, he handed Aunty Peuve the fifty cents he owed for Somaly’s services. Then, when Aunty wasn’t looking, he gave Somaly herself twenty dollars. (That is the equivalent of about two thousand dollars today.)
Somaly didn’t want to be bought for any amount of money, but she had to admit she was fascinated by this man. He came back and requested Somaly night after night. Within a few weeks, Dietrich asked Somaly if she wanted to become his “special friend.” She could live with him in his villa that had a gate, a kitchen, beds, and soap. Dietrich promised to give her spending money and a key so she could come and go whenever she wanted. Somaly knew it wasn’t full freedom, since she’d be “his” at night, but it was much better than the alternative of staying at the brothel. So she said yes.
The meebons never argued or came after her. Somaly didn’t know why. Maybe because after working for three years, she had already paid off Grandfather’s debt and then some. She was never allowed to know how much he owed in the first place.
More likely, Aunty Peuve was getting old and cowardly. Her business was going downhill. Her husband was using up all their earnings and abusing all her girls. Besides, Dietrich was a rich, white man, and nobody messed with rich, white men in Cambodia.
After all her grand dreams of how she would escape and all her nightmares of being beaten to death, Somaly walked out of the aunties’ brothel in full daylight, on her own two feet. She began her new life on a day like any other. The sun rose and set like it always did. Only this time, Somaly got to see it with her eyes wide open.
“The sky is clear after raining.”
~ Somaly Mam
Love and Other Mysteries
Every day Somaly spent in Dietrich’s villa, she felt like she was living in a palace. Each hot shower was another miracle. Only she still had to have sex with Dietrich whenever he wanted. She could never forget that he’d bought her companionship. She was always his “special friend,” not living on her own terms. She also felt like she couldn’t trust him entirely.
After about six months of living together, Dietrich said he had to go back to Switzerland for work. He really wanted Somaly to come with him. Somaly was not into that idea at all. She was scared because she wouldn’t know anyone or speak the language. What if Dietrich turned on her and tried to sell her? That’s what had happened every other time she’d trusted a man.
When Somaly said no, Dietrich was disappointed, but he understood. Before he left, he gave her the equivalent of $100,000. He made sure his translator was clear when he said good-bye. He wanted Somaly to use this money to get a motorbike, go to school, anything she wanted. Dietrich was a compassionate man.
The first thing Somaly did with her money was give each of the girls at Aunty Peuve’s enough to pay off their “debts” and buy their freedom. Then she enrolled herself at the Alliance Francaise so she could learn French. Dietrich’s friend Guillaume gave her a place to stay and helped find her work as a maid. Those first days of independence were thrilling for Somaly. She was so excited to be earning money and living on her own in Cambodia. She had to pinch herself to believe it was true.
At the same time, it was pretty terrifying being on her own. Guillaume invited her to a lot of parties. Somaly liked meeting Guillaume’s friends, though she felt like she’d forgotten how to talk—especially with men. She had been told for so long to be silent like the silk-cotton tree. Girls were property, not people. Now even introducing herself made her confused and frightened. It was so strange to say I am Somaly without adding I belong to ….
Plus, she kept thinking anyone who started talking to her just wanted sex, or worse, to own her, too. At one of Guillaume’s parties in 1991, Somaly met a Frenchman named Pierre. Pierre was working for a French relief agency. He was scruffy but handsome. He spoke perfect Khmer, which was huge to Somaly. She hadn’t heard a man speak kindly to her in Khmer since she was in that open-air schoolhouse with Mam Khon a lifetime ago. The first night Somaly met Pierre, they talked in Khmer until the early morning.
Pierre was the first man who showed Somaly true respect. He was the first man who took her out just to be with her, instead of for sex. He asked her questions and really wanted to hear her answers. Somaly told him her whole story, how she wanted to feel clean and whole again. Pierre was the first man to listen to her dreams and help her make a plan for the future.
Somaly wanted to start a small business. Pierre gave her some funds, and she took them straight to the market to buy school supplies for her family in Thlok Chhrov. With the rest of his wages, Pierre started a café where Somaly and he could work together.
It was clear that Pierre was in love with Somaly and wanted to marry her. She had to tell him she liked him a lot, but she wasn’t interested in some great romance. She didn’t really believe in the word love. She admired him and was grateful for their new life together. But she couldn’t be married to him or anyone else for that matter. It brought back too many nightmares of Than. Pierre said he could appreciate that.
The café did well for the first year or so. Phnom Penh was bustling at the time. The prince had just returned to power and the Vietnamese occupation was over. The United Nations sent in 22,000 peacekeepers to help the government transition. All this meant there was a lot of new money and thirsty foreigners to stop by the café.
Sadly, it also meant the brothel business was getting busier in Phnom Penh, too. Every day, lots of new restaurants and bars were opening up. They served food and after-dinner “entertainment” from young women. Pierre made sure that any man who came into his café with a girl who looked underage was thrown out immediately. Somaly saw Pierre fly into a rage more than once. He had a bad temper. It made him lose a lot of business, but he didn’t care. Pierre was a man of principles.
Somaly made a small but steady income as a waitress in the café. Every time she got paid, she brought more food and school supplies back to her family in Thlok Chhrov. They were still struggling just to feed themselves. No matter who was in power, the government was completely out of touch with what was going on in the countryside. There were many people starving to death or selling their daughters for bags of rice.
About a year after opening the café, Pierre told Somaly that they’d lost too much money. He needed to cut his losses and close up shop. He asked Somaly again to marry him. His new plan was for them to settle down in France. Even though they’d been a couple for a long time, Somaly still didn’t want to attach herself to any man. She really struggled with the thought of being bound to Pierre in any legal way.
Still, the café was shutting down. Most of the Cambodians Somaly knew were trying to get
out of the country as fast as possible. The United Nations was organizing the first government elections, and people said it would lead to another war. Everyone Somaly talked to said that if she had the opportunity to leave, she should.
In order for her to get a passport and visa, Somaly and Pierre had to be married. Pierre pleaded with her over and over again until Somaly finally said okay. They went to the French embassy and signed all the papers. It was the first time Somaly ever wrote her name on an official document. She didn’t know her date of birth. She had to make it up.
She took Pierre back to Thlok Chhrov so they could say goodbye to her adoptive family. Her father was very worried about her leaving. Her mother begged Pierre not to abuse Somaly. They’d seen this happen with their other daughters. Marriage in Cambodia still meant the husband could do whatever he wanted to his wife because he owned her.
Somaly tried to explain that Pierre was French and had a good heart. But inside, she couldn’t shake the feeling that one day he would turn around and try to sell her, too. She swore to Pierre and to her parents that she would be back soon. Then, before boarding the plane, Somaly packed a sharp knife in her suitcase, just in case Pierre tried anything funny. If she was going to start a new life, she was going to do it on her own terms.
“Life is never over; you can turn your life’s page. You will never forget it but you can forgive. Don’t be afraid to start a new life again and again.”
~ Somaly Mam
Unspoken Promise
France was like a completely different universe to Somaly. Pierre’s family seemed loud and rude to her. Plus, she couldn’t get over how much food was wasted at every meal. She could feed an entire family in Cambodia—for a week—with the crusts of bread left after breakfast.