the real price of a lobster

A Story by Zahida

take a peek behind the shrimp/ prawns industry bloody conflict in south east asia

Slowly, the bright disk of an orange sun descended into the South China Sea. The afterglow of sunset lingers on the horizon, reflecting off a myriad of flame colored highlights at the calm ocean water surface. The waves gently fall onto the sandy beach, bringing with it bottles, scraps of cardboard, and plastic water bottles. Elderly fishermen start to pull their boats onto the sand; soon they will walk home as they have done for days, decades, centuries, with their day's catch in their hands.

Three Sabahan mobsters wearing all black from head to toe, each with a rose tattoo on their left wait patiently for Yazid's boat to come back from the sea. There was neither silhouette, nor trace of wake from his boat that they could see from the shore. By now, the daylight faded into impending twilight, and the sky dropped her grapy curtains before them.

It was one of those thick and starless nights, as hopeless as what dice of fortune brings to any local fisherman.

Finally, Yazid's boat emerges from the horizon. The gentle blow of night breeze brings together scents of fresh money hauled from the deep ocean. Lifting his head, Hamid sniffed out the air �" the delightful, refreshing aroma of thick Malaysian Ringgit notes leaves him feeling invigorated, dizzy. They rush towards his boat and climb in as soon as the threadbare old boat reaches the front line of the beach.

Yazid stammered when he saw them; the sight of three muscular men with tattoos wearing silver heavy chain bracelets is not what a fisherman like him would expect; at least not today. Upon seeing Hamid, they rolled their head from left to right, with a force, cracking sounds as if there are small pieces of gravel inside their neck. Amir, who stood in front of Yazid popped his knuckles like a thug while Hamid relaxed his muscles, showing off as he flexed his biceps in front of Yazid.

"What is all of this about?" Yazid asked, confused with what is happening on his own boat.

Without answering the question, Amir and Azhar went straight to check out the day's catch. There are ten red container boxes on deck, each filled with all sorts of fish and seafood to be sold at the local market: red tilapia, mackerel, sea bass, cat fish and many more.

Something caught the corner of his eyes - Hamid saw a young girl of around age 4 or 5, with black marker smeared on her face, hidden behind buckets of mackerel at one corner of the boat. In the dim light, he saw how her small hands tremored and her eyes twitched in fear. He caught her looking at him before turning her sight away. The child crouched down as she watched her father left to be grilled by the local gang on their own boat.

He felt sorry for his daughter to be exposed to the reality of this world at such an early age. After all, it's a dog eat dog world here on the east coast of West Malaysia.

After seven minutes of thorough inspection, his comrades signaled him to check out three containers to the left, the finest catch of today, as they said. The boxes were filled with fresh wild tiger prawns from the ocean. This could be sold at a market price of around RM 7,000 in any single day.

Hamid gave a quick nod of acknowledgement to them. "Boys, take these three boxes out of here. Quick - we don't have much time " he instructed.

Suddenly, Yazid started to yell with rage. Trying his best not to let them snatch away his labor, he turns abruptly and took out a long, wooden rod behind the storage container and swung it sideways, in the direction of Amir's head. Amir, who was trying to lift the box, blocked the strike with his sturdy arms and slipped away in one swift move. Azhar stepped into the scene with his pocketknife �" he pulled out his weapon and slashed in an attempt to knock the fisherman down, but stopped midway when the girl came out running to him from her hiding place. The little girl wept so loud she couldn't catch her breath, begging them with her puffy eyes and swollen snotty nose, not to hurt her father.

Hamid signaled for them to stop.

"Yazid! Ali instructed us to take these three containers as a means of payment of your debt." He exclaimed.

The fisherman gave out a loud grunt, muttering short curses under his breath. His face reddened from anger and vexation. The man who once was meek and wimpy now gained new strength putting his life at risk in rebellion against Ali's influences in this small coastal village.

"But I had finished paying my debt months ago. Why does he keep sending scum like you to take away my hard work and labor? "

An outburst of forced laughter comes from Amir and Azhar. Amir balled his hand into a fist and cracked his knuckles upon hearing the word "scum". "Watch your mouth, old man �" Do you wish her to be an orphan soon?" he asked.

The little girl cried loudly, sobbing, upon hearing the threats. She hid her face between her father's thighs.

"As for the deal, Ali decided to raise the interest up to 100% yesterday. You will work for him, supplying seafood fresh from the ocean, until at least September next year."

"Go remind him that I had finished paying it off this past February! He can't raise the interest whenever he wishes and take away a man's labor without any reason other than force! This is absurd."

"That is the price you pay for borrowing his money. When you borrow money, it's going to cost you a whole lot more - You know that". Azhar replied.

It finally dawned on him. The fisherman looked at them with an excruciatingly shocking expression. "You guys tricked me into slavery! This is bonded labor!" he said with his teeth in a snarl.

"Welcome to real life" Azhar smirked.

Amir comes from behind and gives him a full-force blow, knocking the man to the floor. The child gets pulled by the blow �" luckily, she fell on top of her father's legs. Yazid yelled in pain, cursing at each of them through his bloody clenched teeth.

"This man talks too much. Now, lets' go."

They took away the three boxes. Alongside the beach, a small lorry has been waiting for them. The fresh shrimp are about to be sent to an expensive bar-restaurant offering the most panoramic beach view in the whole Sabah area.

***

Sheila walks hurriedly into DJ Bar Kitchen�" She had overslept and was running late for her night shift. She went straight to the kitchen, punched her card, change her clothes and saw something she shouldn't had in the back room. The restaurant manager was negotiating a price with three burly men wearing black t-shirts and chains of bulky silver bangles, with visible rose tattoos on their forearms.

There was something familiar about the shape of their rose tattoos �" they belonged to Ali's men. The whole scene to her. Instinctively, she ran towards the kitchen's exit door and saw a small lorry waiting outside. Five kitchen workers were busy pushing three red storage containers towards the kitchen. She recognizes one of the boxes �" there were sloppy dinosaur cartoons drawn with black marker on one of the lids.

It made her blood cold seeing her little sister's art there on those containers in the kitchen.

Ali is widely known as a moneylender in her village. Due to the faulty financial system, villagers who were mostly destitute and poor were denied access to financial aid by bankers. The loopholes in their financial system gave room for loan shark businesses like Ali's to bloom �" his business has more than quadrupled over the past three years.

As any clever and cunning businessman would do, Ali has his influence spread to all Sabahan authorities, including the police. Left without direct interference from government, the villagers were easy to exploit and tricked into forced labor. She was angry at the mistreatment and oppression that her fellow family members received at the hand of Ali, but felt too weak to fix the problem.

How could she work today with such rage in her heart?, she thought. But the restaurant had already become crowded with visitors and she had to work or starve. Half-heartedly, Sheila went outside and began her shift as a waitress...walking about the restaurant in a daze, distracted, wondering, planning.

The restaurant has modern wooden lounges along the South China Sea, offering spectacular views of the ocean, with its heavenly sky served as the backdrop. The venue layout features an ironic marriage between contemporary and traditional - a sophisticated combination of wooden tones, earth, and gray theme elements. The dining area was decorated with minimalistic Sabahan ornaments, made from shells and humble rattan that hid a multitude of sins.

The bar is famous for two things: fresh seafood dishes and a wide selection of wine. It is widely popular among western travelers who come to experience world-class diving in Borneo, Sabah. Due to the currency war, the price of food and drinks offered is expensive for the locals, but insanely cheap for the westerners. The only locals you could find are those who worked as the wait staff.

"Here is your order, mam."

She handed down two serving of Scallop-lobster Ceviche, a refreshing appetizer made from raw seafood marinated in citrus juice, to an old couple sitting by themselves beside the window overlooking the beach. Outside, a group of four, young western men sit together, talking, and laughing as they share a good time together. One of them waved at her - she proceeds over to them to take their orders.

Lo and behold, as she walked past the main entrance, she saw Ali together with two middle-aged western men, wearing full suits, walking in. Her blood boiled at the sight of Ali. Leaving her tray beside an empty table, Sheila rushed back and pushed past her coworkers in her haste to serve them.

Ali had never dealt with the villagers directly. As such, he didn't recognize her, nor does he recognize the faces of other villagers that his "business" had ruined. They don't exist except for their catch. But the villagers never forget. Rumors had it that besides money lending, Ali runs multiple shady businesses that none of them knew much about. She was determined to find out and expose his dirty secret tonight.

"You have a great opportunity to expand your business here." She overheard their conversation as she pour red wine into their glasses, slowly to lengthen her stay at the table.

Sheila took their orders and shut the door to their private room, silently, leaving a small gap in between. She passed the order to her coworker, nudging him to send it to the kitchen, and leaned against the door as she tried to capture details of their conversation.

"I think Malaysia can surpass Thailand in shrimp exports by using methods of investments that we've talked earlier. With proper planning, you can gain in a day what you gain in a week now." The bald man spoke with a pitch tone that she reckoned somewhat as a British accent.

"And you have abundance of free labor too �" it's terrific." A subtle tone beneath a coarse voice �" Must be an American, Sheila thought to herself.

"But the Obama administration urged Thailand businesses to clean up their act �" the global consumers are against slave labor practice in the prawn industry. Either way, this can't be done" Ali uttered annoyingly.

"Ah yes, but the issue is mainly focused on Thailand. The problem is that the US and Europe consumers won't buy frozen prawns from Thailand anymore �" they know it is the product of slave labor. We've bled enough from the recent dramatic sales declines. You see, there is no international media spotlight shunning Malaysia now. You and I can play the same game here, but this time we need to play smarter so that our dirty laundry won't be spilled outside." The British man suggested.

"Sounds like a good plan. We already have bonded-labor some of the locals here, and I could find more man power if the money is good. We'll put together all the fishermen and immigrants in Sabah to work at sea for months �" I believe we can start exporting frozen prawns to the Europe and the US market within the next twelve months." Ali stated firmly.

"Congratulations �" you've just sealed yourself a deal."

The three of them raised and clinked their glass for a toast, celebrating the dawn of a horror beginning for the Sabahan community.

Sheila's body froze upon hearing the news �" she remained there, unsure whether to retreat or eavesdrop a few minutes more. Slowly, without making any noise, she took a step back, trying to walk away when she accidentally hit a utensils tray behind her, causing all the silver spoons and forks clinking as they fall to the floor.

"Don't move," one of Ali's bodyguards pointed a gun to her head from behind. In a quick swooping movement, the man brought the gun down on her head; she fell to the floor unconscious.

***

Yazid sat down with his five-year old daughter, whose hands and face were smeared with black marker, on a white sandy beach, a beach nearly like confectioned sugar, and gazed towards the spectacular view of the deep blue ocean. The gentle breeze lifted short hairs in her temples and blew her silky, long hair to the other direction. They watched the movement of waves as they crashed and rolled back to the sea, thinking and praying for the safety of Sheila and her whereabouts.

It's been three weeks since Sheila went missing from the DJ Bar Kitchen.

He worried about her safety, cursing his inability to do anything more than wait. The restaurant manager told him that Sheila flirted with customers all night, and followed a group of foreigners back to their hotel. Instinctively, he knew it was a lie �" his daughter was nothing like what they described. It was her little sister's birthday that day and Sheila had planned earlier to celebrate it with her sister's favorite dish, garlic chili prawns served with sesame noodles. But Yazid himself couldn't even bring a scoop of prawns back home and Sheila didn't come home later that night to prepare the dish. The little ones cried all night missing her and not understanding what had happened.

In the stillness, Yazid looked at the blue sky above the sandy beach and offered a silent prayer to the heavens for the safety of his oldest daughter.

They walk alongside the beach and went to the restaurant Sheila previously worked at. The manager of the restaurant had requested him previously to take away Sheila's belongings inside her locker.

Yazid cried when the locker door sprung open. There was a drawing block and a full set of colorful drawing markers, wrapped nicely with a ribbon sat against the locker's wall. A sloppy dinosaur cartoon drawn with a black marker floats to the floor with a cry.