I recently joined outreach in one of our target barangays.
Our objective was to track down clients and invite them to come to a free
medical check-up that was being offered by one of our partner agencies. I had
been in this area many times during the day to conduct human trafficking seminars,
but the night life in the community was still largely unexplored, and although
I knew that the living conditions were dire, I was still not prepared for what
we encountered.
I set out with two of the staff from the center, along with
one of our peer educators. We walked along an uneven cement path stepping
carefully over dirty brown puddles, discarded food and trash. The heavy air
held the stench of the city, sweaty bodies and pollution, with the additional odor
of a community without any proper waste management. The majority of the
buildings around us resembled sheds made of light materials, quickly thrown
together with little planning or thought in regards to safety. Televisions
blared from inside, but many people sat on the street where there was mild air
circulation, card games and drinking circles. The path was crowded. Men walked
around with their shirts off, women were chatting with friends or holding their
babies, children ran all over laughing and playing games. There were nameless bodies everywhere. People sleeping outside and curled up in filthy places where you wouldn't expect a living person to reside.
The women we talked to had holes in their arms from
injecting benzodiazepine and methamphetamine (I later found out that 51% of
the intravenous drug users in this barangay are HIV positive).We gave each
woman a small box that held three condoms and invited them to bring their
children to have a free check-up. The women complained first and foremost
asking for more condoms. One woman ran up to us in a dress that was soaking
wet. She had just taken a bath outside. Further up the path I could see three
women sitting in a line in front of a bucket rubbing water and soap hastily
over their bodies, bathing in the street where anyone could watch. I could not
even fathom living in such close quarters, with such limited privacy.
As we walked around, the darkness was filled with laughter,
whispers and cigarette smoke. There were old computers and televisions set up
in public spaces. Both had groups of people crowded around the screens. They were watching the NBA finals.
We turned a corner to see a group of kids, who upon seeing
me jumped out of their chairs and rushed over. I had three street children on
each side of me holding my arms, saying things like, “What’s your name? Will
you take me to Jollibee? You have beautiful eyes. Give me pesos.” The children’s
hands were wet and their clothes dirty, but I answered their questions and let
them hold on to me as long as they liked.
As we continued forward the kids eventually lost interest.
In the darkness it was hard to maneuver on the faulty paths, I followed my
coworkers, carefully stepping where they stepped. My counterpart began talking
to a female pimp, telling her about the medical services we were offering for
the girls. Then a taxi pulled up – a customer, and many pimps ran over to try
and make their best offer. I was told that before the raids began the street
walkers would surround the taxi and the customer could simply point at the girl
of their choice. Now the prostituted women remain hidden but are easily
contacted via text message.
I was grateful to have this deeper exposure in the work that
we do and plan to spend more time doing outreach so that I can have a better understanding
of what our client’s experience. Up until this point I have been able to focus
on mobilizing the community and working with girls in job training who had
already left this life behind. It’s clear to me now the importance of seeing and experiencing the reality of their previous lives in order to fully understand their background and help them maintain a successful reintegration back into the community.
