Freedom in Contained Spaces


The detention center project has started after much coordination and negotiation with police officials and the NIA (National Immigration Agency). Yilan has two DCs, one for men and the other for women about a mile away. Our plan is to run a 2 hour recreational program at each facility every Friday. Our actual time allowed varies on whatever the guards dictate for that day. It was rough going on Friday, but with sweat pouring down our faces, Hope, Dave, Mina, Cha Chinh and I proceeded, first with the female detainees, and then later drove to do the same at the center with males. Because detainees, victims of human trafficking, are cooped up all day, many with dire circumstances, the recreational program is meant to give them some time where they get to focus on something relaxing and fun. Time where they are not treated like criminals.

The women's facility was more prison-looking that the men's, a very visible and noticeable difference our team noted. Shrouded in barbed-wire, from the outside, the place looks ominous with the feeling of an extreme-security prison. Guards here don't smile and we had to watch our every move because in the blink of an eye our recreational program could get shut-down. We brought styrofoam hearts and barrel-shaped objects for the women to decorate. Unfortunately, the guards would not let us give the women sequins, beads and other fun decorations we had brought for them to glue onto the objects. The guards fear suicide attempts and warned that any small object can be consumed to commit suicide. In all, there were 41 women.

I noticed many women drew pictures of themselves depicting their sadness and depression on the objects. Some drew pictures of loved ones back in Vietnam, and a significant amount just stared listlessly at other women drawing. When I tried to help these particular women think of something to draw, they were either too shy or too depressed to engage in conversation that was productive. Many women would comment that their drawings were ugly and even after I told them I thought each drawing was special, my statements weren't well believed. We ended the hour with a relaxation exercise that I led. A majority actually did the deep breathing, but many stared at me with curious eyes as I had them stretch their necks and connect with the feelings in their bodies. They need time to get used to our presence and understand what we're they're to do.

I find myself sitting with the uncomfortable feeling of helplessness for the cultural differences among these women versus women in America. I am sitting with the discomfort of not-knowing how to insert my foreign ideas that these women's lives are worth more than slave labor. This is definitely a life lesson in patience, persistence, and creativity. What does it mean for these women to be caged up when it is they who traveled overseas to make money to send home to their families in Vietnam?

About two hours later we arrived at the male facility and set up painting/drawing areas for them. We asked them to draw something about themselves. About 1/3 of the 38 men did not want to participate and sat idly watching others draw. I moved from cluster to cluster, making small-talk and positive comments about their work. I'm sad to say I was terribly uncomfortable by the suggestive looks I got from the men, many of whom asked for my age and whether I was single. Furthermore, if I wanted a boyfriend. Some made offers. To be fair, these men have had no contact with women in the DCs. Prior to detainment, they labor 11+ hours a day, 6 days a week, in factories making stones, tiles, car parts, etc that are both used in Taiwan and exported to countries like America. Others are fishermen. In the small villages and communities they are from in Vietnam, women are for making babies and raising children. I try to remember these facts when I feel my skin crawl from their flirtatious comments and focus on the work and the sweat pouring down my face in the stuffy auditorium.

About 90% of the men did not take my breathing relaxation exercise seriously. Many just watched me with very observant, peering eyes. It didn't help that the guard offered to interpret my words into Chinese (since many of the men understand a fair amount of Chinese). I discovered his understanding of my English was pretty limited, though I used basic, rudimentary verbage. Dave, the American psychiatrist studying Chinese, also tried to chime in which made the entire thing messy. All in all, our team learned at lot for how to modify the program for next week.

Three thoughts linger. There will always be people who are desperate for a better life. Consequently, there will always be people in the world ready to exploit others to fulfill a need for cheap labor. What can I do to ease the suffering of those who are subject to these situations? I hope that the hours that our team spends with the detainees over the coming months serve as contrasting moments of freedom in a life that has not been fair to them. Because, surely, life is never fair.