by Johan Twiss
James shook his head and laughed, remembering too late how laughing hurt bruised ribs and stomach.
“M’am, if you’re old, then I’m ancient. But even an ancient old goat like me still has questions. The things I’ve seen over the last twenty-four hours have seriously changed me forever.”
“Have they changed you for the better?” Boupha asked.
James paused as they neared the main building. “Yes, it’s changed me for the better. That girl, Veata, she...she is something special. I thought I was saving her and the other girls, but they also saved me in more ways than one.”
Boupha nodded sagely. “Do you see the sign on that tree?”
James squinted his good eye since the other one was practically swollen shut, and saw a sign nailed into the trunk of the tree about six feet high. It was green with white Khmer lettering painted on it.
“I see it. What does it say?”
“It’s an old Buddhist proverb. There is one hanging from every tree in our sanctuary. That one says, “Light dispels darkness. Wisdom dispels ignorance. You helped bring the girls to light. And in so doing, gained wisdom.”
James nodded. “That may be, but I still feel pretty ignorant—more than ever in my life. And that’s where my questions come in.”
Boupha nodded for him to continue.
“First, what’s going to happen to these girls? There must be hundreds more like them in the city. How do we free them? I want to know what this place is—your Mongoose House. Why is it called the Mongoose House? What do you do here? Why does it look like a prison on the outside with the razor wire and armed guards? Why did you start this place? And lastly, where did you learn to speak English so well? You speak it better than Munny, but don’t tell him I said so.”
Boupha chuckled at the last comment and motioned for him to sit with her on a log bench below another tree.
“Those are many questions, Mr. James. I will try to answer them all for you. First, I was sold to a brothel by my mother. I was only a few years older than Veata at the time, but my mother needed money to feed my younger siblings. I was sacrificed for them.”
James shook his head in disgust, but Boupha continued.
“I tried to escape twice and was recaptured. I’ve had a gun pointed at my head, I’ve been beaten, burned, and I’ve been locked in a cage where buckets of snakes were thrown on me as a punishment. I saw my friends die. I wanted to die myself. I know what these girls and boys went through. I was drugged, just like them, and beaten into submission.
“When I was sixteen I escaped, but was captured by a policeman who then sold me to another brothel. I was there for two more years until I met a man named Gregory. He was a regular customer and a wealthy foreigner from England. He bought me from the brothel and I lived with him in his vacation villa near the coast.”
“And he kept you as a slave?” James growled. He felt the anger swelling inside again, but Boupha rested a hand on his arm and shook her head.
“He kept me as a lover, yes, but I was free to leave and was given money to spend for food and clothing. Though I could have left, I stayed since I had nowhere else to go. I lived there for ten years. Gregory often travelled back and forth to England during that time and even hired me a private tutor to teach me English. While in Gregory’s home, we only spoke English. That’s how I came to learn the language so well.”
“But, what happened? What changed so that you decided to leave?”
“I didn’t leave,” came Boupha’s quick reply. “Gregory left. He sold his home and went back to England for good. He said it was time for him to find a wife and to marry. He left me a large sum of money, all of my clothing, and then he was gone.”
“I’m...I’m sorry,” James said. “I know how badly it hurts when someone you love leaves you.”
Boupha shook her head emphatically and scoffed. “I did not love him. He was kinder than most, and I used the money he left to start the Mongoose House, but I never loved him. To be honest, after my experiences in the brothels, I think it’s impossible for me to have any romantic feelings of love at all.”
James winced at his foolishness. “I apologize. Of course it would be impossible,” he said. “I’m trying to compare when my wife left me to your experience, but they’re nothing alike. I’m sorry.”
Boupha waved a hand in the air. “No, no, do not be sorry. You’re just trying to make sense of this new, dark world. Pain afflicts us all. And do not apologize. I have come to peace with my past, as these children must do if they are to survive and live a happy life.”
James shuddered as he thought of Veata on her own, out in the dark world by herself. “And how long will they stay?”
“You’re thinking of Veata, aren’t you?” Boupha asked. “I can see it in your eyes. She is lucky she found her giant. But you need not worry about the child. All of our guests are welcome to stay as long as they wish. Some of the girls leave after only a few days and sneak back to brothels. For some, we are able to locate family members to take them in. But we only do that after extensive research so we know they can be trusted. Then we follow up each month to check on the child and help as needed.
“The others stay here. We teach them to read and write, basic math, music, and the trade of a seamstress. Many of our children leave in their late teens and find work as a seamstress. With their skills they can support themselves and it keeps them from going back to their old lives.”
“But why would they want to go back?” James asked, his voice rising, disgusted at the thought.
Boupha laid her palms open in a placating gesture. “For many it’s the drug addiction. For others, it’s what they’ve known most of their lives.”
James pictured Veata again, and fear wrapped around his thoughts. “Well, can’t you just keep them here and force them to stay? You’ve got the barbed wire fence and armed guards. Just make them stay until they’re detoxed and mature enough to leave! This place is clean and safe. Just keep them here until they’re ready!”
James took a deep breath, realizing that he’d been shouting.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” he said, dropping his face into his hands. “I just, I can’t imagine letting them go back to that life.”
Boupha shook her head. “I will not force any of the children over fourteen years of age to stay. The young ones rarely try to leave, but if the older teens desire it, they may go. This place is not a prison. I am not their owner. If I force them to stay then I am no better than the brothels.”
“What?” James yelled in surprise. “Then why the fences? The armed men? Of course you’re better than the brothels! I can’t believe you just let them leave. Why would you do that?”
Boupha mumbled something in Khmer and then spoke again in English. “You foolish Americans. Always thinking you know what’s best. I have the fence and guards to keep the traffickers out! Fifteen years ago, one of the Sen Zi traffickers came here while I was gone on errands to the city. They shot two adults who help me here and kidnapped sixty-three girls!”
James watched Boupha shaking as she spoke. “The adults survived the shooting, but we never found those girls again. They were shipped off to other cities and countries. I made a promise to myself and these children that I would never allow that to happen again. I found policemen, honest police like Po and Dith, to help. They come to volunteer here as guards. Many of them lost sisters and mothers to the brothels. They help me free other children and I do all I can to protect them.”
James was stunned by the revelation.
To lose sixty-three girls like that. I don’t think I could handle that and stay sane. But...it still doesn’t explain why she lets the others go.
“If you’re trying to protect them,” James said slowly, gritting his teeth. “Why let them leave to go back to the brothels?”
Boupha closed her eyes and a tear ran down her cheek. “Do you think I want them to leave? Of course not. I talk and plead with them to stay. I do all I can to convince them to stay, but if the
y want to go, I must let them. I have no legal right to keep them here. And I assure them they are always welcome to come back to us. I do my best to keep track of where they go and help them from the outside, but I will not take away their freedom to choose. That, I refuse.”
James turned his head and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
“You must understand what the people of Cambodia have endured,” Boupha said in a calmer voice. “Hundreds of thousands were killed in civil war during the 80’s. Those that survived were forced to follow the Khmer Rouge regime. There was so much death, so much despair, and so little freedom. I can’t take away their freedom.”
James sighed. He understood why she allowed the girls to leave, but the thought of them going back to their old way of life made him physically ill.
“It is flooded water that makes mud. It is clear water that cleanses,” Boupha said.
James turned back to her, narrowing his brow in confusion.
“Fitting, don’t you think?” She continued. “It’s the saying above us on this tree. I know it upsets you that I allow them to leave, but it is the right way. These children have been forced into the mud and dirt. I teach and love them as my own. I give them clear water to clean away their past and to try and help them find happiness. I try to give them hope and a new life. But in the end, they must choose. We all must choose. I will not take away their freedom to choose.”
James took a few deep breaths and sighed, letting his emotions cool. “I get it. I don’t like it...but I get it.”
They sat in silence for a time, watching the stars. James’ whole world had been turned upside down in a single day. He felt guilty that he, a college-educated father and wealthy, pseudo-celebrity had no clue about the realities of child slavery before this day. He had heard about it in blips on the news, but it always felt so distant and so small. But now, things were different. He was different.
“I want to help,” James said matter-of-factly. “I have money. I can buy girls from the brothels, like Gregory bought you. Then take them here where they are safe. We can free hundreds of girls. We can start tomorrow.”
Boupha rolled her eyes. “There you go again. Trying to be the hero white man coming to save the day like in the movies, thinking you know best without knowing anything.”
James reeled back, confused and a little offended. “What are you talking about? So just because I’m a white foreigner, I can’t help? That’s all I want to do. I want to free all of the children forced into slavery. I just want to help.”
Boupha sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. But I’ve seen men like you before. They try to come and fix things—foreigners with no clue. And usually, they just make matters worse. You’ve done much good today and put your life in danger to save these girls. The way your actions caused the girls to rally behind you and fight back—I’ve never seen or heard of anything so amazing, especially from girls so beaten and brainwashed into submission.
“You are a hero, Mr. James. And I applaud your desire to help. But if we buy freedom for a girl, the traffickers will only fill their brothels with a new child. They will make more money from you, and money from the new child. That method will only give the Sen Zi more power and wealth. It will be a never ending cycle.”
“Then how do we fix things? How do we stop this madness?”
“We work with the honest police. We build relationships in the government so laws are enforced and corruption overpowered. We build public support and teach young men to stay out of the brothels. And when we raid the brothels with the police on our side, the owners and their men are arrested, tried, and sentenced to prison. Without punishment, the traffickers are free to continue. This is the only way.”
James felt like he’d been sidelined in one of his college football games. He was raring and ready to take action, to go fight and save all of the children in a week, tops. Knowing that it was impossible, and that each day there were children kept as slaves in brothels, hurt. It hurt hard.
“What can I do to help? I have to do something.”
Boupha smiled. “There is much you can do, Mr. James. So very much. Come, let us go inside and I will show you to your room. You have had a very long day and I can see the exhaustion in your face. We can discuss our partnership in more detail tomorrow. But for now, you must rest.”
James felt the weariness in his body and knew she was right. He knew he had a new mission in life to protect these children. And he would do all he could to help.
Boupha lent her hand to James as he struggled to rise from the bench. Together they walked to the main building, but just before they entered, James saw a pile of dirty, ragged, red dresses piled on the ground outside the door.
He paused and looked at the crumpled garments. “What will you do with those?”
Boupha picked up one of the dirty dresses by the straps and held it in the air. “You asked why I named this place the Mongoose House. I chose it because a mongoose can be a loving creature, yet fierce in the eye of danger. These are qualities these children must have to survive. Love and fierceness.
“Tomorrow we will hold an official welcome ceremony for the new girls. There will be food, introductions, and games. At night we will gather around a large fire in the courtyard. I will tell them my story, much of which I’ve just shared with you. Then…”
Boupha trailed off and threw the small red dress back into the pile with the others. “We will burn these dresses. The girls will throw them into the fire and their new lives will begin.”
THE TALE OF THE MONGOOSE
A 30 RED DRESSES SHORT STORY
I wonder if he will remember it’s my birthday? Veata thought, unable to prevent a smile from spreading across her face.
Today is a good day. Today, I am sixteen.
Veata walked down the hallway from her room to the kitchen. She’d been allowed to sleep in on her birthday, but the smell of fresh eggs and curry rice roused her from bed. Dozens of girls and boys were helping cook alongside Boupha Mam, Chemsi, and Munny. Their colors danced between yellow, green, pink, and blue as they worked together to prepare the morning meal.
It had been eight years since she’d arrived at the Mongoose House on the outskirts of Phnom Penh in Cambodia. Entering the kitchen, she reminisced about the first day she’d come to the gates of the property—thirty girls in red dresses with a Cambodian man and a white giant who was ready to collapse.
Remembering that day, and the devastating flood, brought back a mix of painful and happy memories. Veata felt such pain for the loss of life and destruction that came from the flood. But without it, she and her sisters would still be prisoners of Rithisak, rotting in his brothel until they died.
After arriving at the Boupha Mam house, Veata struggled with her past, as did all of the children who came there. Her gift of colors proved to be a great blessing as she sorted through her own painful memories and helped the other children. As she grew older, she became the unofficial counselor at the Mongoose House. She would spend much of the day listening to the fellow survivors who wished to talk. Many came to her naturally, gravitating toward Veata as she sensed their moods and their inner-most feelings. They unloaded their burdens and she listened, giving them all the support and love she could offer.
Boupha recognized her gift and often sent the new children to visit her when they arrived. Often by the third visit, they started to drop their protective shells and open up to Veata. It was the beginning of their healing process and Veata cherished the work she was doing.
Her friendship with Chemsi grew stronger as they lived together in the Mongoose House. Chemsi reminded Veata of Boupha. They were both natural leaders, survivors, and determined to help other children escape the brothels.
Chemsi soon became Boupha’s right-hand woman over the operation. Veata became the healer.
But living at Boupha Mam’s was not free of danger.
Veata chuckled to herself when she remembered her first impressions of the place after they’d arrived.
The property was surrounded by high metal fences with barbed wire lined across the top. Two armed guards patrolled the two acre parcel of land 24/7, and from the outside it looked like a prison.
But Veata had learned of the past sadness Boupha had endured when sixty-three girls were kidnapped from the home by the Sen Zi. It was for this reason the fences and guards were employed. They were not to keep the girls in, but to keep the traffickers and the brothel men out.
Boupha had spent years searching for those missing girls, using every means and contact she had available to find them, but they were never found.
Occasionally, in the early morning dawn, Veata would catch Boupha sitting by herself under the mango tree, staring at the tall gated entrance to their sanctuary. Dark blue colors would fall around her like rain and she would sing to herself a song from the dark days of the Khmer Rouge regime.
They took my land
My sorrow grows
They took my home
My sorrow grows
They took my freedom
My sorrow grows
They took my children
My sorrow is full
Veata imagined the absolute heartbreak Boupha must have endured with such a great loss. She loved these children as her own.
After the mass kidnapping, Boupha vowed to never let anything like it happen again. She went to great lengths to secure the home with fencing, razor wire, and her own private security team made from off-duty police officers she could trust.
But more than giving them a place of protection, Boupha wanted the children to learn to protect themselves. When she heard of Munny’s exploits on the roof that fateful day, and that he was a practicing Bokator master, she pleaded with Munny to train the children and the staff.
Bokatar was an ancient Cambodian martial art. Practicing or teaching the fighting style had been outlawed by the Khmer Rouge government for decades so as not to train rebels who would fight against them.
