Welcome to the Philippines

I hadn’t been in Manila five minutes before someone was offering me sex.

My taxi driver from the airport, probably quite reasonably assuming that as a solo male arriving in the Philippines I might be one of the country’s many visiting ‘sex tourists’, could easily set me up, no problem. ‘You want beautiful girl, I can find you! Look here!’ (He pointed to one of the many sex clubs we were passing on the drive into town).

Outside my guest house, when I went searching for dinner, the propositions continued. Various men approached me, offering a choice of many beautiful girls, all assuredly aged between 16 and 24 (in reality, it’s thought that up to half of prostitutes working here are under the legal age). I’m used to being offered cigarettes or other drugs by street traders; here the trade was all for Cialis and Viagra.

Child prostitution and human sex trafficking are big business here in the Philippines, with the trade often controlled by organised crime syndicates. In Olongapo City, where I have mostly been staying, it’s estimated that up to 8% of the population are prostitutes; perhaps this is the sorriest legacy of all from the days when the US navy was based at nearby Subic Bay. Although the sailors have left, plenty of other western visitors have helped to keep the trade very much alive, including many paedophiles who know that this is one country where their desires will be easily satisfied. Poverty is another major driver; low rural income has led to a massive urban drift but in the cities work opportunities are very limited for people arriving from the countryside.

I’m actually here in the Philippines to meet with the Preda Foundation and with some of the farmers they work with near Mount Pinatubo, five hours to the north of Manila. Preda, which has a strong focus on winning freedom for underage sex workers, and on gaining legal justice for sex abuse victims, helps to support its operations through the sale of fair trade dried fruits including one of our most popular products, a delicious dried mango.

The farmer groups I visited had their own stories of oppression to tell; as indigenous Aeta, they have had to fight for decades to secure ownership rights to their traditional ancestral lands, and they regularly protest in an attempt to contain the spread of illegal mining activity in their region. Preda supports them in a number of ways and although these Aeta still feel discriminated against, they are now much more confident of their rights and feel more empowered to defend these rights.

Teresa de la Cruz illustrates the kind of difference her community has seen as a result of the legal advice they have received from Preda. ‘In the past, if we would go to a local hospital we would be turned away; now we know our rights better we are able to receive treatment as a result’. Another member of the group, Salvador, told me how a cousin of his had been offered Paracetamol as treatment for malaria and later died.

Reflecting on the stories I have heard from the Aeta community, and conscious that by staying at Preda’s headquarters in Olongapo I was sleeping under the same roof as dozens of young women who have been rescued from sex trafficking rings and are being provided protection and support, I’m comforted by the thought that at Trade Aid we are supporting the fight against both ethnic discrimination and sex slavery through our trade.

Heading back to Manila airport in a different taxi, I’ve been offered more girls by my driver. ‘Students’. Thinking of the thousands of taxi drivers who are, in effect, the country’s doormen peddling sex in this manner, it’s hard for me to foresee a day when the Philippine sex industry might shrink to a more moderate size. Preda’s work is far from done.