Eric Reese - Im not your Slave: The Story of Imtiyaaz

Read my other works on human trafficking

The check-in at Jakarta International Airport for the five oclock Emirates Airlines flight to the UAE was light for a Friday afternoon. Everyone looked exhausted, and it appeared passengers were heading back to the UAE for some much-needed rest except for one person. Imtiyaaz easily stood out as the only passenger who wasnt wearied by whatever seemed to wear people out about Jakarta. While most passengers had cheap bags or simple carry-ons, Imtiyaaz was carrying a Louis Vuitton Monogram Train Case with her cosmetics inside her Celine Tri-Fold leather handbag. She was eager to leave Indonesia behind and everything it held for her. To be fair, it wasnt much: a grumpy father who had never stopped blaming her for being the reason her mother had dead, a few network of friends, and Sayyid Yacob, a close friend of the family.

Ahead of her in line, stood a tall, fit black Emirati male with a stylish heavy beard. Imtiyaaz, who stood behind the towering hunk, had spent minutes, staring his impressive physique. She silently hoped hed sit next to her on the flight.

Her oversized silver sunglasses ensured she could eyeball the sexy hunk without detection even if he turned around. Imtiyaazs mind then drifted to the new life awaiting her at the other end of this journey.

Ordinarily, on most days, like this Friday, since finishing high school, Imtiyaaz worked in a small restaurant making coffee and waiting tables. The Arabs tipped better than her countrymen, and it was here where shed first nursed the vision of living and working in one of the oil-rich Gulf countries. UAE was top on her list of countries to work in and Saudi Arabia being the bottom. After close to two years of nursing her dreams while schooling in the day and working in the evenings, Imtiyaaz was finally moving along in the right direction.

At first, shed considered applying for university abroad, but figured it was better to work first. With a father like hers, it was a brilliant idea to say at least.

* * *

One day, fate had smiled on her when a regular customer at the shop, Aisyah, half-Qatari and half-Indonesian, had told her of jobs in the UAE. Aisyah had lived in Dubai when she was younger.

It is perfect for girls like you, said Aisyah smiling.

What do you mean by perfect for girls like me? asked, Imitiyaaz curious to know.

Oh, I meant you know how you are working here. Its the same but you get paid more money there. People like Asian ladies there. They are so polite, stuttered Aisyah unable to speak English very well.

Quick to smile and tip generously, Aisyah had easily became Imtiyaazs favorite customer. They would have long chats while Aisyah ate about Dubai, especially on days when the manager wasnt around. Aisyah told Imtiyaaz she was double majoring in Political Science and Far-East Asian Studies. Once she finished her research paper at the end of the term, shed be graduating and leaving Jakarta for good.

Imtiyaaz learned about a recruiting agency in the UAE for hospitality jobs in one of those chats with Aisyah. She told Imtiyaaz that she could pass her CV along to one of her colleagues there in hopes of getting hired.

You know with the Emirates being a top tourist destination in the Middle East, hospitality businesses are springing up left and right. They need energetic, bright girls like you and me, Imtiyaaz.

Imtiyaaz found Aisyahs assessment of her endearing and wished it was the same confidence her father could give her just for a day. But not Arief; he was always complaining, and thats when he even bothered to speak. Sometimes, Imtiyaaz and her father would go weeks without saying a word to each other. Hed mumble to her greetings or give little praise for something she did well.

Imtiyaaz, after giving Aisyah her CV, spent time asking her closest friend, Sayyida her thoughts about her working in the Middle East.

I dont think its wise to leave Jakarta and go to another country where you dont know anyone. I read stories in the paper all the time and heard on the news about many cases of human trafficking over there and its sickening. Plus, some of our citizens who worked as maids over there got tortured and killed.

And Sayyida wasnt the only one to tell Imtiyaaz this. Her friend Dewi and Nadia said the same. This left Imtiyaaz wondering why it seemed like everyone was telling her it was a bad idea.

We have to take our chances or die in poverty, Sayyida. The grass is greener there, and Im still a teenager. I can work for a few years, save money and help out here. We should want something more than just working in retail or restaurants, right?And that was Imitiyaazs generic response with slight adjustments, depending on which person she was talking to.

Excuse me, excuse me. A gruff voice coming from behind startled everyone in line.

Imtiyaaz turned to see an average height blonde man in blazers eyeing her. The guy looked like a college boy with his nerdy hip glasses, flowery shirt and expensive loafers. He pointed to the space in front of Imtiyaaz who had been daydreaming, so she slowly moved up.

Sorry.

No problem, sweetheart.

Am I the one making a mistake? thought Imtiyaaz, rolling her eyes as she turned back around.

The man was talking on his phone bragging. Imtiyaaz listened closely to his conversation; he was a fashion design student at the Corcoran School of the Arts and Design in Washington, DC. He flew to Jakarta then to UAE for a fashion expo. As the man kept blabbering, he kept looking over at Imtiyaaz; pinpointing every item she had from her train case, handbag to her sunglasses.

A pair of black Giuseppe Zanotti Cruel Summer sandals, black Hudson distressed skinny jeans, oversized white button-up shirt and black Chanel J12 Automatic 38mm watch, he said to whoever he was talking to on the phone, right in front of Imtiyaaz without reservation. Hey, Richard. Im telling you this girls amazing. I have to write about this in my next blog. I didnt know Indonesian women had style like this.

Her make-up is flawless. She might be wearing NARS or Make Up Forever. Ha! he gasped betting his last cent mentally he was right. Yeah, Richard. Shes wearing Marc Yacobs Decadence, too. My God! Where did she come from? Ok, pal. Ill see you when I get back. See ya! The college boy then hung up the phone.

Imtiyaaz, sighed finally while moving up a few steps. She then smiled at the agent at the scanner as she passed through, not aware that removal of shoes, belts and electronics was mandatory. It was Imtiyaazs first time inside an airport although she had her passport for two years. As she neared the waiting area, there were different flights over the loudspeaker being announced. Where is that cute Arab guy? Hes right there at Starbucks, and the stools beside him are all taken.