The Girls

There are thousands of them. They pack the streets, propelling other passersby in their direction, irritating moto drivers who need to squeeze between them. Their hair is pulled back; they wear no make-up; their plaid shirts or neon T-shirts (or both) create unity across a cacophony of colors. Sometimes a whole block is filled with girls wearing the same headscarf in vibrant turquoise, purple, yellow, pink. Other times everyone is gone, and the deserted streets are hushed.

When I walk among them, every one of them looks at me.

Some give a quick glance, others do a double take, and still others a prolonged gaze of bewilderment. A few smile shyly, which I shyly return. One girl next to me poked her friend and pointed. That friend poked another girl, who poked another, about six total. Never in my life have I felt so completely conspicuous.

I was expecting this, actually. I’m staying with my Cambodian friend Sovannary this summer to study the Khmer language, and I knew she lived near several factories: I’d seen the crowds while driving there for Khmer lessons every Saturday. I figured I’d attract much more attention on foot than I had on my moto, and I wanted to get it over with. So the first few days, just before my flight to the US, I went walking (or jogging, when space permitted) every morning. I didn’t have a chance of blending in, and not just due to my fair skin and light hair. It’s my way of walking (especially during aerobic workouts), my loose exercise T-shirt and knee-length shorts, the fact that I have a good 4 inches on most of them, and more.

The factory girls make up a clear majority in this neighborhood, if not 90% of the population. So if I go out while they’re working (mostly around 7 to 5, minus a lunch break and plus overtime for some), the streets are empty and more conducive to jogging/driving/not being trampled. But since my Khmer tutoring is downtown at 7:30 AM every weekday, I’ll likely continue exercising earlier, when they’re out and about. I’m hoping once they get used to the white girl in the neighborhood, the fuss will die down a bit.

To be honest, I’m as fascinated by them as they are by me. I quizzed Sovannary to make sure my ideas on them were accurate. She confirmed the following: It’s mostly garment factories in this area, as are most factories in Cambodia, producing clothing for Gap, Abercrombie, Hollister, and other prominent brands. Owners are typically foreign – including several Logos students’ parents – and pay substantial bribes to import materials and export the finished products. Besides those lucky government officials, and maybe taxes, Cambodia profits little from one of its main industries.

The rules are simple: males need not apply, nor anyone under 18 or over 30. Housing is available nearby, packing workers in with six or more per smallish room. The girls are nearly all from the province, since the pay is low: about $50 per month. At 40 hours a week, that works out to about $0.28 per hour. (As a comparison, my house helper earns over double that for working half the hours.) Overtime until as late as 11 PM is a way to earn more...if you never want to see daylight. They spend little, sending most back to their families.

“What about all the poor people from Phnom Penh?” I asked Sovannary. “Don’t any of them want factory jobs?” “A few, but most aren’t that desperate,” Sovannary replied, visibly indignant about factory workers' plight and the government’s apathy. Everyone knows most Cambodian provinces face extreme poverty.

Go to the province, she told me. You’ll see hardly any young women left there because there are no jobs. It’s tearing apart families and hurting the culture of the villages. Some girls, lonely and joyless, fall for the young guys who hang around the factories, buying them gifts until the girls are convinced it’s true love. They’re dumped as soon as they get pregnant, and face extreme rejection if they return to the province as a single mom. Some die in botched abortions or commit suicide.

And these are the lucky ones, who aren’t promised a job and then sold into brothels! There are a lot of Cambodian girls that would be much better off in a factory than in their current line of work.

I remember in high school, reading about companies like Nike defending their low wages. They make a valid point that they’re not forcing people to take these jobs, and that workers flock to the factories because pay is superior to other opportunities workers would have. But what if the workers see no alternatives? Does that make it acceptable to pay below a living wage, and to break up millions of families countrywide by insisting on “young women only”? (Unemployment is a huge problem among Cambodian males.)

It just seems like a lousy excuse from huge corporations that could feasibly pay better and consider employees’ needs. They’re exploiting how corrupt Cambodia’s government is and how little economic opportunity is available here. In my mind, it’s kind of like taking a child into foster care and saying, “Well, at least I abuse her less than her birth parents.” That’s not exactly taking the high ground.

These aren’t new observations. Elizabeth Gaskell’s “North and South”...Victor Hugo’s “Les Misérables”...Alan Paton’s “Cry, the Beloved Country”...many acclaimed pieces of literature have decried poor conditions for factory workers and the resulting harm to society. Haven’t we learned anything? Is offshoring just a way to hush Westerners’ protests: “out of sight, out of mind”?

The Industrial Revolution is long over, but a bleak tenement lifestyle is far from history for my new neighbors.