photo credit: mekong_virus

Her name is Mae. She’s maybe 20 years old and lives in a one-room shack with her husband and her six-month old daughter (nick-named “Je t’aime”). They are assuming the little girl is his but they really don’t know given how she spends her evenings. But he is fine with that, and even the neighbors keep quiet when they see her leave in the evenings, powdered white with painted-on lips, because she’s bringing home money. At least she’s found a way, they think. At least her doll-like face and porcelain skin have granted her a little bit of power. Maybe it’s a sacrifice, but it puts food on the plate. And she shares with us, so who are we to judge?

There are only a few whispers now, as neighbors feel her absence. She has been in Singapore for a few days so far. A hefty profit to be had in the red-light districts there, they say. Oh, no, she could never afford to travel there on her own. Her co-workers and boss all pitched in. It’s like a business investment. And they’re expecting huge returns– a plane ticket and enough cash for two weeks, and she’ll bring back over $10,000. Then it will be divided between the shareholders, see? And of course she’ll see some of that profit as well.

Neighbors say she doesn’t feel ashamed. That she’s proud, even. But I have a feeling that under the painted-on exterior and the armor around her heart, there are wounds nobody sees. Or maybe they just don’t want to see. But there is still someone who knows.

“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters;
and you who have no money, come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to me;
hear me, that your soul may live.” –Isaiah 55:1-3