Torn from the news – living in slavery

About 880,000 people in the EU are living in slavery, according to the October figures from the European Parliament’s Organized Crime, Corruption and Money Laundering Committee (CRIM). These include children who are forced to beg, men who are forced to work for pitifully low or no wages, and women who are forced to work as prostitutes.

CRIM has urged the EU member states to eradicate trafficking in human beings. Considering that it’s estimated that organised crime nets around 25billion euros each year, crime lords are not going to give up their hold on their luckless human assets.

The aim to eradicate this modern form of slavery is not going to be easy, since there are thousands of corruption cases registered in the public sector of the EU. There’s no telling what the actual damage this causes, either, but it must be considerable. Forlorn hope, but if organised crime could be radically reduced, imagine how improved living standards would be!)

There are relatively new crimes being organised today, too. A booming trade in human organs and wildlife and the rapid spread of cyber-crime take their toll.

In Europe, there a total of 3,600 international criminal organisations operating across the EU, according to the report. This is one reason why the British SOCA (and parts of the Border Agency, and the Child Exploitation and Online Protection Centre, as well) have been replaced by the NCA (National Crime Agency) to tackle the 40,000 individuals in 5,500 criminal gangs in UK; the NCA will have a big presence abroad, too, with 130 officers in excess of forty countries.

CRIM recommends the abolition of European tax havens and increased prison time for thos caught and convicted of money laundering or corruption. To help in the fight against corruption, the committee calls for further legal protection for whistle-blowers within the EU.

Excerpt from Blood of the Dragon Trees

The week was a long ordeal of starvation rations, hard labour and a few minor beatings, but Jalbala stoically accepted his lot. His body ached in every muscle, mainly from work, but he was determined to fit in.

Including him, there were twenty-two in the new group, so Mustapha had been accurate on that point, too. It seemed that the rest of the group hadn’t noticed the switch. They were probably – and understandably – wrapped up in their own fate at the time.

Some days he was put to work in a field, picking melons. The open air was preferable, but the sun quickly sapped his strength and gave him a pounding headache, the first signs of dehydration. In the fields, Jalbala got to know the woman he’d pulled out of the water. Her name was Nadira. She was twenty-four and had left her two young boys with her parents. Her husband had been killed and she wanted to fend for herself. ‘Europe is where I will make money and bring my children up,’ she told Jalbala with conviction.

Other days, he worked under immense sheets of plastic. Within these greenhouses, he found it difficult to breathe in the very humid 140^oF. Light and heat seemed to radiate from every surface. The days melded into an amorphous mass of time within Jalbala’s surreal world, where the sky was white, suspended by arched wooden ribs, just inches above his head.

Toiling in the suffocating greenhouses, Jalbala made friends with one of the men who’d been landed from the ship. Talking made them even more breathless, but Jalbala needed information and Jope was glad to pass the time while doing monotonous work.

Jope spoke French. He was Senegalese, with a wife and a five-year-old daughter. He’d been an electrician, earning £25 a month.

‘Why talk in British pounds?’ Jalbala queried. ‘Your currency is francs, isn’t it?’

Jope shrugged. ‘I don’t know why, but they preferred discredited pounds, rather than our francs or euros.’

He went on. He’d been enticed by a friend who said that in the Canaries he could earn at least £1,000 a month. ‘I decided to improve my family’s lot. I spoke to my wife and we agreed. I took our family savings and went to the coast.’ He eventually caught a ship sailing from Dajla in Mauritania. ‘I want a house and I want to educate my children,’ he told Jalbala. ‘The journey cost £800. I worked for three months to add the wages to our savings.’

Jalbala felt for the man. The money that ruled – and ruined – Jope’s life was peanuts to the majority of people in the UK or the States. Everything was relative, he supposed. Both the States and the UK were still hurting from the credit crunch and massive borrowing. Yet he’d seen in England that large sections of the workforce were still intent on striking for higher wages. What planet were they on?

‘Why do you ask so many questions?’ Jope said.

Really good question, Jalbala thought. ‘I’m a reporter. I want to expose the people who put you through this.’ He only wished that was true; maybe some aspects of it could be.

Somewhere near, guard dogs barked and Jalbala knew that not far from their side strode sadistic men with pickaxe handles and baseball bats. (p84)

 

BLOOD OF THE DRAGON TREES

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Laura Reid likes her new job on Tenerife, teaching the Spanish twins Maria and Ricardo Chávez. She certainly doesn’t want to get involved with Andrew Kirby and his pal, Jalbala Emcheta, who work for CITES, tracking down illegal traders in endangered species. Yet she’s undeniably drawn to Andrew, which is complicated, as she’s also attracted to Felipe, the brother of her widower host, Don Alonso.

            Felipe’s girlfriend Lola is jealous and Laura is forced to take sides – risking her own life – as she and Andrew uncover the criminal network that not only deals in the products from endangered species, but also thrives on people trafficking. The pair are aided by two Spanish lawmen, Lieutenant Vargas of the Guardia Civil and Ruben Salazar, Inspector Jefe del Grupo de Homicidios de las Canarias.
            Very soon betrayal and mortal danger lurk in the shadows, along with the dark deeds of kidnapping and clandestine scuba diving…

Note. The film The Whistleblower (2010) is a searing indictment of institutionalised corruption that condones people trafficking, with a superb performance from Rachel Weisz. This film is at times brutal, uncomfortable viewing and not for the faint-hearted. It’s based on actual events.

Torn from the newspaper headlines – food slaves

‘Beatings and 17-hour days’: the life of Britain’s food slaves

 – Sunday Times, 6 October 2013.

An investigation by the ST has discovered that workers employed in food factories and farms that supply some of UK’s biggest supermarkets are working in excess of 17hrs per day for little or no pay. Virtual slaves. The SOCA (now the NCA) reported 83 potential trafficking victims forced to work in the food-processing industry in Britain last year, up from 38 in 2011.

The real numbers are likely to be much higher, This isn’t only a UK problem, however. There are migrants throughout Europe suffering the same fate. I am not singling out Spain when I include this subject in my book, Blood of the Dragon Trees, just highlighting the issue:

These are legal tomatoes (suggested serving)

Jalbala’s stomach growled. After days of poor food and backbreaking work, he felt drained, weak, weary, and he ached all over. He was fit and strong, but the others weren’t, so he had no idea how the women coped.

He worked in the fields, a huge plastic collecting basket strapped to his back. As he’d been shown, he sliced off melons and slung them over his shoulder to land in the basket. After a while, their combined weight started to tell, threatening to rip his shoulders off. The field was filled with his fellow illegals, women and men. Nadira, the woman he’d pulled out of the water, was over on his right, Jope on his left. They both bowed with a will, determined to work towards their freedom.

A wave of depression swamped Jalbala as he realized they were being duped. They’d never get legitimate papers. Food and so-called lodging would be deducted from their miniscule wages; complications would arise over the required forms. They’d be made to work till they dropped, and then Black Beard or one of his men would come along with a baseball bat to encourage them to work some more.

Already, one of their tent walked with a serious limp, thanks to ‘encouragement’ from a guard. Jalbala decided he could not wait much longer. He’d noticed a couple of guards watching him, as if making sure he pulled his weight. The slightest excuse, they’d give him a good hiding, and it might be so harsh he wouldn’t recover fully from it. Commonsense and honest fear told him he couldn’t delay more than a week. He must get the evidence soon.

- Blood of the Dragon Trees, by Nik Morton (Crooked Cat Publishing), p89

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"When Laura Reid, a linguist, comes to work for the Chavez family in Tenerife, she cannot imagine the terrifying twists and turns her life will take. Nik Morton's novel quickly pulls the reader into an underworld where people trafficking and the smuggling of body parts of endangered species are among the crimes committed by the well drawn characters on this seemingly peaceful and beautiful island. Lots of pace, a really good yarn and a skilfully painted picture of Tenerife made it an excellent read. Highly recommended. "

- 4-star review on Amazon.com, 8 October