Gigi

Words 967

Bangkok, Thailand, where Westerners flock to drink buckets of alcohol and party hard. A new flood of tourists arrive each night, seeking delights forbidden to them elsewhere. Drugs, cheap alcohol and underage sex are all on offer here.

The sun wanes, Gigi takes a deep breath as she prepares for another long night. She’s tired, her eyelids are heavy and she wishes she didn’t have to smile at the customers tonight, but he will be angry if she doesn’t sell all the flowers.

Her long black hair frames her pale face as she heads out of the darkness of the mean back streets into a neon jungle. She walks the strip of nightclubs, brothels and bars carrying garlands of flowers being careful not to damage the delicate blooms.

“Buy flowers for the lady?” Gigi smiles looking up at the potential customer through long lashes, her body language that of a young woman although she’s just a child.

“Piss off, kid!” the man said before pushing her away. He turns his attention back to the street girl sitting on his knee. She too, is underage.

It’s nearing midnight, and the walking and hustling exhausts Gigi, but she doesn’t dare go home. Her keeper will be angry and punish her if she doesn’t bring back enough money. The constant beat of loud pop music makes her headache, but still she’s ever watchful for her next target. Her practiced smile fades away as soon as she makes the sale, and the young trader moves on.

She is one of a troupe of kids, aged from five years of age on the street tonight trailing tourists, selling anything from sweets to sex.

Her friends see her but they, too, are hustling for a dollar. There’s no time to play games as other children might. By circumstance or by force they need to make money any way they can. Aware her mother sold her to the man for 1500 baht a month, Gigi is trapped in a nightmare. At only nine-years-old, she’s selling flowers but will she soon be selling herself?



Tony Patchett and his wife were visiting Thailand for the first time. The friendly Thai people were winning their hearts, especially the children.

“These kids are the best, aren’t they, Jan?” Tony asked one day as they watched a group of boys playing some arcane game, sitting on the dusty road. The children glance up at the tall white stranger and go back to their game which involved sticks and stones. He watched them play, recognising there were rules known only to the boys.

Great excitement ensued as the winner jumped up from the dirt, delighted.

“Can you imagine a few sticks keeping our two kids happy?” his wife asked, thinking of the many toys and electronic games their children had back home in Australia.



Tourists pack the streets as usual, groups of scantily clad girls urge customers to enter the various establishments.

“Massage? Very good, very cheap,”

“Hello, beautiful lady, you buy perfume?”

Tony and Jan meander along hand in hand, the bright lights and loud music overwhelming. The night air, still and warm and full of the aroma of perfume and exotic food.

“Let’s stop for a while, my feet are killing me,” Jan says.

They find a vacant table outside a bar where the music isn’t so loud; they sit, grateful to rest for a while.

“We’ll have two beers please,” Tony says to the heavily made up girl who is serving them.

“I think she’s a lady boy,” Jan whispers when the waitress leaves to get the drinks.

“It’s hard to know boys from girls in this place,” he replies.

Tony takes a drink of his beer and gazes around at the spectacle that is Bangkok at night. People spill out of the bars on to the street, sounds of laughter and singing fill the night, the lights disguising the seediness.

He observes a small girl selling garlands of flowers, she is flirting with the tourists. He watches as she approaches a man, and although he can’t hear above the noise of the music streaming from the bars, he sees her stumble as the man shoves her away. The look of fear on the little girl’s face makes Tony’s heartache, for she is so young and frail. He catches her eye and waves her over to their table.

“Hi sweetie, what’s your name,” he asks.

“Gigi,” she whispers.

“How many flowers do you have left?”

She counts the garlands hanging from her skinny arm. “Five,” she replies giving Tony a hopeful look.

“I’ll take them all,” he passes her a fistful of Thai Baht, taking the flowers and gives them to Jan, and his wife smiles at her husband’s kindness.

Gigi wanders off into the night, she crosses the busy road without a glance at the traffic.

“God help these kids.” Tony looked anxious, “We may have helped her tonight, Jan, but she’ll be out selling again tomorrow, and the next night. We’ve simply contributed to her entrapment.”

“I wonder where she lives and if she has someone who loves her,” Jan says, watching the child, until she can no longer see her.

Gigi slips around the corner away from the bright lights, the noise of the bars and the tourists lessen as she walks along the dark alley. She isn’t frightened here in the darkness, she knows it is out there where men like to touch her that she needs to be afraid.

The room where she lives with the man and the others, is empty; everyone still out hustling. She turns on the light hanging from the fly pocked ceiling and places the money she’s earned tonight on the table. Unrolling a mat from the pile in the corner she lies down, exhausted, and sleeps.