First posted:
Saturday, June 09, 2012
Watch the video here.
BATTAMBANG, Cambodia - There is a certain cost to business.
There are hidden bills to pay for the vast supply lines that build
the factories and produce the goods that move beyond the reach of the
local workers. Those are shipped around the world so we might walk into a
store, pick that needful thing up in our hands while casually wondering
'Is it worth it?'
In this case, the expenditure was Chorvorn's arm.
Torn off, right up to her small shoulder.
More than a week ago now, the 14-year-old girl, working in a
Cambodian brick factory caught her arm in the wheel on a machine that
pounds clay into building blocks.
This, after workers -- many of them as young or younger than Chorvorn
-- spent days stomping the mud with bare feet. Bricks are the
foundation of development, and go into building the factories that lead
to mountains of T-shirts and pants sold in trendy stores in Canada, and
the shrimp in our frozen foods.
But there are very fragile points along the supply chain.
Chorvorn's sleeve became caught in the spinning wheel. The machines are so loud her screams would have paled in comparison.
On this day, Chorvorn is being wheeled into an operating room. She
will not be able to get another adequate job and the disability may stop
her from marrying anyone -- a fate that will make her an outcast.
Her family, we're told, is not at the hospital, though her grandmother, Savy, tells us the child is cared for.
The older woman, guarded as neighbours inch closer to listen in, says no one is to blame for the mutilation.
Terrible things just happen to some so young.
QMI Agency has travelled into the bush for this interview, and
throughout factories, treatment centres, clinics and schools in Cambodia
and Thailand, while shadowing child labour and human trafficking
experts from World Vision Canada.
The relief, development and advocacy organization is gathering
information as it kicks off a three-year campaign, Help Wanted: End
Child Slavery, aimed at stopping the worst forms of child labour (endchildslavery.ca).
It comes just as Canada this past week announced a federal Action Plan to Combat Human Trafficking.
Protecting the most vulnerable people on earth was an election promise by the federal Conservatives.
Our nation previously took a lead role on commitments to champion
child and maternal health. However experts say despite our signature on
an international agreement to fight trafficking, we are now having to
play catch-up to countries such as the U.S. and Australia in making a
priority of banning modern slavery.
Human trafficking only became a Canadian Criminal Code offence in
2005. And the inhuman crime happens more than Canadians would think,
right inside our borders.
But it's here in the Mekong Sub region that winds through Cambodia,
Laos, Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam and the Yunnan Province of China, where
perhaps the greatest numbers are dealt as stock.
In 2005, an estimated 9.45 million people were living in forced
labour in the Asian Pacific Region, and as many as half could be
children.
While Canadians often equate human trafficking with the sex trade,
nine out of 10 cases involve inhuman labour practices -- from being
abducted onto fishing boats in Thailand, put under the thumbs of gangs
to beg in Vietnam, transported to Saudi Arabia for domestic work or sold
off as wives to rural men in China.
There's no evidence Chorvorn was a victim of trafficking, though she
is certainly an example of child labour gone horribly wrong.
Normally, after such an accident, she would have likely been
discarded. But advocates, including World Vision, lobbied for the brick
company to continue to pay her a modest sum.
But she is only 14 years old, facing a whole life in front of her.
And beyond the guarded words of her grandmother, the older woman
acknowledges something that's obvious: The young girl isn't interested
in a payment. She's not interested in fault. And she's not interested in
whether Canadians understand the links that lead from factories
overseas to consumer decisions and new government action in our own
country.
"She just wants her arm back," says the grandmother.
She wants, she continues, to be the young girl she was before.
And she has no understanding her arm was a bill paid along a vast supply line.
--- ---- ------
POIPET, Cambodia -- In the border land, there seems to be two clear but hard choices.
Either you somehow make your way from Cambodia to the promised land
of Thailand to scratch out a better life through hard work, or you cross
over into a brutal new world of forced labour and slavery.
Though both options begin with the same rush of desperation.
Around the world, migrants filter from one jurisdiction to another, hoping something better will come their way tomorrow.
All combined, those who find themselves in developed countries --
including Canada -- ship back more than $300 billion to their families
in developing nations.
Others are working in developing countries that have a few more
opportunities than where they're from, which is the case of Cambodians
dreaming of Thailand.
But a slowdown in the global economy has increased the stakes and
also the risks for more than 100 million migrant workers worldwide.
Here on the impoverished divide between Cambodia and Thailand --
distastefully defined by a strip of gaudy casinos built in a
free-for-all no-man's zone teetering between the two borders --
thousands of transient workers jump constantly back and forth across the
line.
Some go the legal route, and line up at the gates -- or physically
push huge overloaded carts of goods into Thailand past guards.
Others trek through the dense jungle -- in some cases, finding a
common currency with official patrols that should be guarding the line,
rather than profiting from it.
Among the daily commuters here in Cambodia is an elderly grandmother,
who morning and night makes her way to and from bitter work on the Thai
sugar cane fields.
You haven't heard about the misery of need until you've walked in her
footsteps through the thick bush that's 60 meters to the border.
Her husband is all but blind. Among the assorted children they have
to support is their young granddaughter who is suspected of carrying
HIV, which also killed both her parents.
The old woman is also sick, but must still work in hopes of somehow,
some day, paying off a debt owed to the community. It's less than $200
for rice and land, but the family will likely be indebted for life.
Every day, she hopes for a better tomorrow for all her children -- though all are starting their journey already in debt.
Another man works for greener pastures as well.
He crossed over to Thailand in 2010, and found himself trafficked to a
company that grows phak bung -- water morning glory used in stir fry
meals. At times, he recalls, workers, under guard and brutalized, were
forced to toil for 22 hours a day.
Last year, police raided the plant, and held him until he was eventually returned to the Cambodian side.
Today, sitting in his barren thatch hut -- rain knocking loud on the roof -- he looks older than his 46 years.
Because he still lives within reach of his traffickers, it's not safe to use his name.
And his mind, like his scarred body, is a patchwork of fragile parts.
It's unclear whether he was more mentally stable before his ordeal.
All that's clear, according to government records, is his history as a
forced labourer.
And as much as it is the desperate, it's often the weak and most vulnerable who are the first to be trapped across borderlines.
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