Bali Raw

by Malcolm Scott

  Their relationship had started as a work thing but they had become close. They referred to each other as brother and sister and while they were at the Kuta clubs they tried to keep an eye on one another. I am generally dubious about this sort of relationship but Fish swore Lita was honest and a good friend.

  Lita is thirtyish, she is intelligent, bubbly and pretty, but Lita is also tired. The years working in the clubs have taken their toll. She spends six nights a week in clubs and drinks way too much.

  Lita is like most of the prostitutes in and around Kuta but she has one thing that sets her apart, she has one of the sexiest voices I have ever heard. The first time I met her I was driven to compliment her on her voice, she speaks in a whiskey-soaked soft way like a woman on the edge of orgasm. I found it incredibly sexy and I told her so. This is probably why Lita remembered me and why she looked for me in Fish’s phone; it was certainly why I remembered her, her voice was unmistakable, even at five in the morning.

  I had just woken from a deep sleep and had no idea why Lita was calling me. I looked at the phone and recognised Fish’s number and guessed there might be a problem. “Good morning Lita, yes I remember you darling. What’s wrong?”

  Like most Indonesians Lita was direct and to the point. “I have difficulty Mal. I in taxi with Fish, he very drunk and he sleep nightclub. I worry for him Mal, I have no money. Can you help me?”

  I rubbed sleep from my eyes, “Is everything OK?” I asked, trying to come to my senses. “What happened to Fish?”

  “Fish OK but he very drunk, I need money Mal. Fish have no money and man taxi angry to me.”

  I am always wary when Indonesian prostitutes ask me for money, especially ones I barely know. “Lita, can I speak to Fish?” I asked.

  There was a pause and then I heard the muffled sounds of Lita trying to wake up Fish, she came back on the line. “Fish mabuk, Lita cannot wake. I have no money and taxi driver angry, please help me.”

  This was not the first time I had been woken early because Fish had got himself into trouble. Ever since a dispute with his ex-girlfriend he’d been on a downhill run. The ex-girlfriend was not content with taking all Fish’s money, she was now calling all his contacts in Australia and telling them that he’d bashed and beaten her. She was also harassing him daily by text and threatening to make trouble with Indonesian immigration.

  Fish had developed a drinking problem and I had received a similar call a week earlier. He had fallen asleep in front of a bar on Legian Street and was lucky an Indonesian associate of ours recognised him. He was also lucky to still have his wallet.

  I gave Lita my address and told her to bring Fish over in the taxi, I said that I would organise the fare.

  Having paid off the driver I tried to give Lita fifty thousand for her trouble but she shook her head and refused to take it. “Fish my friend too, Mal. I not need money for look after him.”

  Prostitutes are looked down on by a lot of people but being a working girl doesn’t stop them from being human. Lita is a good example, she has done a lot to protect a friend and make sure he is safe.

  Later in the day when Fish and Lita woke, we all sat down to chat and give Fish a hard time for being a drunk. I discovered that Lita loved to talk; the conversation we had was interesting so I have decided to include it.

  I asked Lita where she was from in Indonesia—this question is important to Indonesians. Indonesia is a large place with many islands, cultures and regional dialects, and Indonesians place a great significance on their place of birth. They love to talk about their origins and their home city or village.

  Lita told us that she was from Surabaya, the second largest city in Java. Surabaya is a polluted port town that I have visited in the past, and like all port towns it has a seedy side. When I mentioned this to Lita she decided to tell us her history.

  She told us her mother had died in 2004 when she was twenty-four and that at the time her father was a successful tailor. He employed five people in a large shop and Lita worked in the shop with her father. She has a little sister that was nine at the time of her mother’s death and Lita’s father scaled down his business so that he could take care of his youngest daughter.

  Lita said she had helped out with her sister and the shop but things were difficult. Her father continued to grieve for his wife and he had problems at work. Eventually the business failed. Lita’s father lost all his employees and he had to move to a smaller shop. Her father took her aside one day and told her he could not afford to look after her anymore and said he was having problems paying to send his youngest daughter to school. He told her that she would need to help and asked her to find work in a complex.

  She was given no choice, her father asked and she obeyed. This is the Indonesian way, the woman must follow the man and the daughter must follow the father. “Complex” is the word Lita used for a brothel.

  She told us she had to work very hard at the complex, she was expected to sleep with seven or eight men a night and if she complained she was beaten. She was paid Rp150,000 (about fifteen Australian dollars) a time to sleep with a man and said that Rp50,000 went to the complex and Rp100,000 went to her father and her young sister’s schooling. She struggled to retain any of the money for herself. She said that if she wanted to leave the complex she was expected to pay Rp5,000,000 (approximately 520 Australian dollars) to the owner

  Lita said this was common for all the girls in the complex and that threats to families were delivered nightly to stop the girls from running away. She said that the threats were followed through with and she was often told that if she left without paying her fine her father and younger sister would be beaten.

  She worked in the complex for three years until her father realised he could not run his small business anymore and decided to sell. After pleading with him her father used some of the money from the sale of the shop to buy Lita’s freedom and sent her to work in Bali. She’s worked as a call girl in Bali ever since. She told us that it was far better than working in the complex because she has her freedom and she can sometimes buy things for herself, and she doesn’t miss being beaten or being forced to sleep with up to eight men a night.

  Lita sends half the money she earns back to her father and her sister, but said that sometimes her sister rings when she needs new shoes or a dress and this gives her a headache because she knows she has to work harder that month.

  When I asked her if her father works she said he doesn’t, he has never gotten over his wife’s death and spends all his time looking after the youngest child. She said she would soon be very happy as her sister would finish her school in a few months and she would no longer have to pay for her. She said her sister had asked if she could go to university but that she had refused, she told her she could not afford it.

  Hard luck stories are common in Indonesia, you hear them all the time and this is but one prostitute’s tale.

  Not all of Bali’s prostitutes have such hard luck stories though. Some, like Ira, choose their profession because it is an easy way to make money and get ahead. Some come from very good homes yet they work so they can afford university or to buy a house or to further their financial situation, and for them prostitution is purely a business transaction.

  Then there are girls that work because they’d prefer to meet and marry a Westerner. There are numerous situations and circumstances that send girls into prostitution, although most involve poverty.

  Pool Hi-jinks

  Josh was a good kid and from the moment we met we got along. He was twenty-one but looked seventeen; he was tall, had boyish good looks, was well mannered and was one of the most switched-on young guys I have ever met.

  When he told me his life story I figured his upbringing had something to do with his maturity. He had grown up in some of Europe’s trendiest nightclubs, surrounded by the rich and famous. Josh’s friend Rick was different, however. He had a way about him that just didn’t gel with me. He was also older than Josh by about ten years and I couldn’t
see the connection.

  Josh and Rick were rich kids from privileged backgrounds. Josh’s father owned a string of nightclubs on the Isle of Man and Josh had been partying in them since he was fifteen. His father had exiled him from the island after he stole somebody’s Porsche and crashed it joy riding and Josh was spending his banishment travelling the world. Somewhere along the line he hooked up with Rick. Rick’s father was a retired pilot who spent most of his time in his mansion on the island of Madagascar.

  Josh and Rick told me they had met travelling—they both wanted to learn to surf and so they rented a villa from me that was situated close to Uluwatu. Every now and again I would run into one, or both, of them in Kuta.

  Josh would ask me about Bali and I would give him information on where to eat and party. He was intelligent but he was young and new to Bali and I didn’t mind helping as we got along well. Rick was friendly enough but I found him difficult to communicate with, he came across as a spoilt guy whose only interest was what you could do for him.

  I was watching the football in a pub one early Sunday afternoon when I received a phone call from Josh. I answered but I wasn’t happy because it was my day off. All I needed was a work-related call during one of the most important games of the season.

  Josh sounded panicked. “Mal, I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, dreading a leaky pipe or broken TV antenna.

  “Rick is in the hospital, he drowned in the villa pool and I think he might be dead!”

  The noise in the pub was loud and I wanted time to think. Shit, I thought, give me the leaky pipe. “Josh, I can’t hear you, stay on the line, I’m going to walk outside. Do not hang up, OK?”

  I made my way out of the pub and into the carpark. “OK, Josh, are you still with me?”

  Josh didn’t hesitate. “I think Rick may be dead or he could be brain damaged. He drowned last night, we are at the hospital and we had to get an ambulance!”

  My first thought was liability. Bad I know, but I was unsure of the insurance situation at our villas and I had visions of some rich kid’s dad flying over to Bali with his lawyers in tow. “Is Rick alive? What happened? How did he drown?” I asked.

  I could hear Josh breathing heavily down the phone. “Fuck, fuck, it’s bad,” he stammered. “I don’t know, I pulled him out of the water and we had to wait for an ambulance. I don’t know. Are you coming here?”

  I walked to my motorbike. “I’m on my way but I need information, is Rick alive?” Liability or not, I didn’t want Rick to die.

  “I don’t know. He is in the hospital and they won’t let me in.” Josh swore a long line of fucks and worked himself into a frenzy. “Rick drowned and I don’t know what to do. Please come here, we took E while we were in the pool, you have to come now!”

  My mind raced, the boys were on drugs when the accident occurred. That meant I needed proof to avoid liability.

  “I don’t know if Rick is still alive. Please come, they won’t tell me anything.”

  “Who won’t tell you anything Josh?” I asked.

  “We revived him by the pool. Two Aussie nurses helped but I’m not allowed inside.”

  “Josh relax and speak slowly, where are you?” I climbed on my bike but didn’t start the engine. “Josh listen, look for a sign or ask someone. I will come but I need your location.”

  “We are at the International Hospital. The sign says BIMC … I think it is near Sanur.”

  “OK, Josh, I know where it is. Now listen, I’m on my bike so you won’t be able to call me, I will get there as fast as possible and I’m sure

  Rick will be OK.”

  I wanted to make one stop on the way. It may sound callous but I wanted Josh to calm down and I wanted him to tell me the truth. I decided to stop and buy beer and cigarettes.

  I arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes later. When I arrived I saw Josh sitting out front with four people: three young guys about his age and an older woman. I recognised her and my heart sank.

  Mary had purchased a villa from our company a couple of years previously and she had proved to be nothing but trouble. She was an Australian nurse who had been coming to Bali quite regularly for the past three years. She was in her mid-forties, overweight and a heavy drinker; she also liked the company of young Balinese men. She and her friends would come to Bali twice a year on triple-S tours.

  Everyone in the company knew her reasons for buying the villa in such an isolated location. It was hard to miss the group of middle-aged women frolicking in the pool with their young Balinese studs.

  None of this would have mattered if Mary hadn’t fallen for one of her sycophants. She had fallen madly in love and she happened to be going through stage three of the Divide and Conquer Scam when I met her at the hospital (see end of chapter for the four-stage Divide and Conquer Scam). Mary’s boyfriend fed her false information and she believed whatever her young lover told her. The boyfriend had convinced Mary that she was in danger of losing her villa unless he handled her paperwork and her villa was placed under his control.

  Mary was also a gossip who enjoyed email and she decided to share the boyfriends’ false information with all of our past clients. Unfortunately, she forgot to mention that she received her legal advice from a Balinese gigolo. This caused immeasurable damage but it wasn’t the first time and Mary was not the only one to be duped.

  Suffice to say, Mary was not one of my favourite people and I had no wish to hand her a negligence suit on a silver platter. I knew I had to get her on side or I risked the company being dragged through the mud in the Indonesian courts.

  I called Josh to one side and I offered him a beer, which he took gratefully. I explained that I wanted to speak to Mary alone so I could assess the situation. I said that Mary would tell me the truth but she may be reluctant to talk if he was around. I said I would share any information I received with him.

  I went over to Mary, offered her a beer, and sat down next to her. “You look like you’ve had a rough night.”Mary took the beer. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Listen mate, I just want to thank you for all that you have done and —”

  “It’s my job,” she interrupted. “I’m a nurse, it’s what we do.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I was married to a nurse for a long time and I worked in a hospital for a while. I know what you guys do and I have nothing but respect for nurses and the profession.”

  This seemed to win Mary over; she took a sip of beer and sighed. “It’s not something I wanted to happen on my holiday though.”

  I took out my smokes and offered one to her. “Mary I need a favour,” I said. “I need us to forget about business until we get this sorted, it won’t do either of us any good to muddy this problem with what’s going on at your villa.”

  Mary checked to see if I was serious. “I agree with you. This is far more important at the moment.”

  I respected Mary’s attitude and I felt relieved. “Thank you,” I said, then asked, “how is he, what’s your professional opinion?”

  “I don’t hold much hope. Rick is young and he is very fit but he died that many times. My opinion? I think his brain will be irreparably damaged.”

  “How did you get involved?” I asked, and looked over at the young guys waiting for Josh in front of the hospital. “Did they come and get you?”

  Mary shook her head. “We were at the pool when it happened and we kept him alive for two hours while we waited for the ambulance.”

  I could sense Mary needed to talk. She went on to tell me that her and her friend, another Australian nurse, had spent two hours keeping Rick alive through resuscitation. She told me that he’d died numerous times beside the pool and on the way to the hospital and that the doctors and nurses at the BIMC were struggling to keep him alive as we spoke.

  She told me that the ambulance they’d arrived in had not only taken two hours to reach the scene, and another hour to get to the hospital, but that it had been ill equipped and she and her f
riend had reverted to hands-on techniques to keep Rick going.

  Whatever I thought of Mary I could not fault her for what she was doing, this was her holiday and she was spending it working and saving a young man’s life. Mary and her friend had done their job, they had kept Rick alive and made sure he arrived at a hospital.

  I mentioned this to Mary and she replied, ‘There is no way I would leave my patients side until I knew that I had done everything I could do. I’m in this until the end, I’m a nurse.”

  I thanked her again and told her that I thought she and her friend were heroes. I meant it, I have no doubt Rick would not be alive without the dedication that these two women showed to their profession and to another human being. I asked if she had said any of this to Josh and she told me she hadn’t.

  I walked over to Josh and passed him a beer. “Josh I need to know something and I need you to trust me.”

  Josh must have heard the seriousness in my voice, he pulled his head from his hands and looked up at me, “I trust you,” he said, and I felt like a prick.

  I turned on the seat so that Josh and I were face to face. “On the phone you said you were doing Es. That’s okay, I couldn’t give a fuck, but if you are on E and something bad does happen …” I let the statement hang.

  Josh was a smart guy, I knew he could work it out he looked at me wide-eyed and trusting. I could tell he was running possible scenarios through his mind.

  I saw his Josh’s eyes water over and passed him a lit cigarette. Josh took a drag, “You mean if Rick dies?”

  I placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder, “That’s the worst scenario but it doesn’t have to go that far,” I said. “Mate, they will probably do all sorts of tests and you and your friends could be in deep shit, do you understand?”

  Josh took a deep drag and exhaled over his shoulder, I could sense him trying to act mature, “I understand.” he said, quietly.

  I continued. I had practised the speech on the ride to the hospital. I felt like a dodgy bastard but I thought it was a good way to get Josh to admit that Rick had been on drugs. “If you were on Es we may need to act fast. Indonesia is not the place to get busted. Do you have any drugs on you?”