April 17, 2004—The
view of trafficking in Nigeria is somewhat different. In fact,
it is seen as an everyday part of West African life.
It starts with the promise of a better
life.
The parents are taken in. The children
are persuaded. When they leave home they do so willingly, with
some excitement, not trepidation.
The trafficker has promised a good
job, a schooling, a regular income. But that is not how it
works out.
One young woman told me she was promised
regular work in the Nigerian countryside.
Discernible shame
She found herself transported overland
through the north of Nigeria , to Mali , then to Algeria ,
then Morocco .
From there she was smuggled into Spain
, at night, in a small boat, and from there, on forged papers,
into Italy by train.
They took her to a house in Turin
where she lived with other girls, some, but not all, Nigerian
like her, and under the control of a madam, also Nigerian.
She was put to work as a prostitute,
something she speaks of now with a discernible shame.
After seven months she had earned
enough money to pay off what she owed the traffickers for taking
her in the first place.
When that debt was paid, her trafficker
shopped her to the Italian immigration authorities and she
was repatriated, home to Benin City , Nigeria with nothing
to show for her ordeal.
There was a second young woman with
a similar story.
Not yet out of her teens, her traffickers
took her to Verona where she worked as a prostitute.
She spoke without shame. She spoke
with anger.
"Just when I had paid off
my debt," she said. "Just when I was about to start
working for myself, the police caught me."
This is the pattern. The traffickers
do not want their working girls setting up on their own, taking
custom away from their girls.
Turnover - in human traffic - is everything.
Oil rich cities
Unicef estimates that human trafficking
is more lucrative than any other trade in West Africa except
guns and drugs.
The streets of Nigeria are teeming
with trafficked children.
Of the hundreds of thousands of street
kids living rough in Nigeria 's oil rich cities, perhaps 40%
have been bought and sold at some time.
The girls most frequently sold into
domestic service, or prostitution, the boys into labour in
plantations, or to hawk fruit and vegetables for 12-hours a
day in an open air market.
Some work as washers of feet. In Nigeria
children enter the labour market almost as soon as they can
lift and carry.
We watched a skinny boy in a dust
bowl of a quarry carrying stone blocks on his head ferrying
them from where they were cut from the earth to where they
were broken down into usable pieces for the construction industry.
He worked here alongside his heavily
pregnant mother.
He earned 40p (70 US cents) a day,
which his mother used to buy food for her five younger children.
The boy was nine-years-old and he
had been working at the quarry since he was seven.
Unicef believe there are 15 million
children working in exploitative labour in Nigeria .
It is a 21st century slave trade.
What is most striking is the tacit
support that human trafficking enjoys at almost every level
of society.
The Lagos middle class have a bountiful
supply of house boys and house girls, brought from villages
in the north by helpful aunts and uncles who pocket the cash
and disappear.
No-one asks questions. No-one wants
to know the answers.
For human trafficking is not something
that happens on the criminal fringes of Nigerian society.
It is woven into the fabric of national
life. In Benin City , in the oil rich Edo state, east of Lagos,
I met an articulate 15-year-old girl who said many of her friends
had been trafficked.
"Their parents are involved," she
said. "They say to the girls: 'Why don't you go with
this man and work. We have no money, we have nothing to eat.
You can send us money.' And so the girls go."
And that is the problem. That trafficking
has the tacit collaboration of the victims' own families. That
it is not seen as criminal activity at all but as a normal
and even respectable way for a family of - say - seven or eight
children to boost its meagre income.
Root cause
I have filmed for BBC television news
in many countries of Africa over the last decade. But I have
never had an Oscar winning Hollywood movie producer carry my
tripod before.
David Puttnam - who made Chariots
of Fire, Midnight Express, The Killing Fields - knows a lot
about trafficking.
As president of Unicef UK he has seen
it across Asia as well as in Africa .
What frustrates him here, in Nigeria
, more than the poverty that is its root cause, is the attitude
that accompanies it.
"Half of you feels sympathy," he
told me.
"But the other half wants
just to shake the people here and say look - this is a large,
wealthy, powerful country.
"Put
the structures in place. Develop some determination. And
this exploitation of children could be tackled and Nigeria
could be a really successful nation".