A new law put into force in the Czech Republic on January 1st 2010 requires social workers involved in human trafficking prevention to immediately report new cases of suspected crime to the Czech police. While the Czech government sees the law implementation as a natural step in the attempt to meet Schengen rules and recommendation, non-governmental organizations are concerned that the new notification duty will jeopardize the fragile trust between social workers and victims, which will lead to trafficked persons hesitating to ask for help.
This was the theme of the article I wrote on human trafficking in the Czech Republic in the beginning of the month. I used trustworthy governmental and non-governmental sources but a spontaneous undercover visit to a sex club in central Prague really blew some extra life into the story. It was my first time going undercover for an article and I must say that it was quite a different experience, considering the circumstances.
TOL Foreign Correspondence Course in Prague, january 2010.
I had five days time to file my story. I started working on it Day 1 but it wasn’t until Day 3 the idea of a spontaneous visit to a sex club came my way. By adding “color” from a scene relevant to the story, I would put some extra spice into the article. One of the experienced journalists responsible for the course came with me, mainly for safety. In central Prague, the place to find brothels and sex clubs is around one of the main city squares – Wenceslas Square.
The crucial lesson learned from listening to other journalists and most importantly by applying it myself , is that the true art of working journalistically is not only having to stay extremely open to being flexible but also to investigate aggresively but smart and that taking risks – in a careful manner – can pay off.
We entered one of the old, big buildings on a side-street leading away from Wenceslas Square. A muscular, dark-skinned man took a long, close look at us. We were both proper and elegantly dressed. Our appearance would obviously influence whether we were let in or not. While my company had to pay an entrance fee, it was free for me. A man with a scar on his right cheek asked me to open my handbag. Cameras were forbidden inside the club. I had a camera with me but he couldn’t see it as it was hidden under my wallet. His curious fingers dissappeared from inside my bag. I kept a cool face – as if I was in this kind of environment regularly, but inside, my heart was racing.
We were seated near the dancing pole. I quickly scanned the environment I was in. Red-painted walls. Few lights. Lots of glass and details. The club had a burleque feeling to it. Girls in minimal clothing walking around, moving between potential clients, trying to chat them up. We ordered hard liquor to be able to sit for a while without being bothered by a waitress or look suspicious. Several girls came up to us and referred to a “special menu” available.
Wenceslas Square at night, january 2010.
Eventually, we bought an over-priced non-alcoholic drink for one of them to sit down at our table. It turned out she was Slovak and my company spoke a bit Slovakian which instantly made her feel more comfortable sitting with us. Our alibi – collegues and friends looking for a good time in Prague as tourists. She quickly realised we weren’t there for any sessions. She blinked at us. On the table next to ours, a girl was performing a private table dance for a client. It all felt slightly surrealistic. I excused myself. The ladies room was located right next to the private rooms clients could hire for “special menu” sessions. Naked pictures of the girls working in the club along the walls.
A girl with a Eastern-European face was wearing nothing but platform heels, seductively swinging around the dancing pole in front of us. The look on the girls faces – expressions of emptyness and carelessness. What was going on in their heads?
Men sitting in the corners and around the dancing pole area, some being completely hypnotized of whatever the girl on the stage was doing with her body, others sipping their drinks and enjoying a cigarette. I noticed how hard it was to balance between keeping cool and at the same time, get the information I needed. It hit me how my attention sharpened because of the fact that I couldn’t take notes of what she was saying. I memorized the way in which she was speaking and how she underlined things with her voice. I started noticing small details like her long, red-painted nails and how she was always smiling although nothing worth smiling about had been said. I took notes in my head about everything she said. For some girls, working legally, this was just another night at work. For others not lucky enough - they were victims of forced labour, controlled by another human being.
Undercover reporting adventures
A new law put into force in the Czech Republic on January 1st 2010 requires social workers involved in human trafficking prevention to immediately report new cases of suspected crime to the Czech police. While the Czech government sees the law implementation as a natural step in the attempt to meet Schengen rules and recommendation, non-governmental organizations are concerned that the new notification duty will jeopardize the fragile trust between social workers and victims, which will lead to trafficked persons hesitating to ask for help.
This was the theme of the article I wrote on human trafficking in the Czech Republic in the beginning of the month. I used trustworthy governmental and non-governmental sources but a spontaneous undercover visit to a sex club in central Prague really blew some extra life into the story. It was my first time going undercover for an article and I must say that it was quite a different experience, considering the circumstances.
TOL Foreign Correspondence Course in Prague, january 2010.
I had five days time to file my story. I started working on it Day 1 but it wasn’t until Day 3 the idea of a spontaneous visit to a sex club came my way. By adding “color” from a scene relevant to the story, I would put some extra spice into the article. One of the experienced journalists responsible for the course came with me, mainly for safety. In central Prague, the place to find brothels and sex clubs is around one of the main city squares – Wenceslas Square.
We entered one of the old, big buildings on a side-street leading away from Wenceslas Square. A muscular, dark-skinned man took a long, close look at us. We were both proper and elegantly dressed. Our appearance would obviously influence whether we were let in or not. While my company had to pay an entrance fee, it was free for me. A man with a scar on his right cheek asked me to open my handbag. Cameras were forbidden inside the club. I had a camera with me but he couldn’t see it as it was hidden under my wallet. His curious fingers dissappeared from inside my bag. I kept a cool face – as if I was in this kind of environment regularly, but inside, my heart was racing.
We were seated near the dancing pole. I quickly scanned the environment I was in. Red-painted walls. Few lights. Lots of glass and details. The club had a burleque feeling to it. Girls in minimal clothing walking around, moving between potential clients, trying to chat them up. We ordered hard liquor to be able to sit for a while without being bothered by a waitress or look suspicious. Several girls came up to us and referred to a “special menu” available.
Wenceslas Square at night, january 2010.
Eventually, we bought an over-priced non-alcoholic drink for one of them to sit down at our table. It turned out she was Slovak and my company spoke a bit Slovakian which instantly made her feel more comfortable sitting with us. Our alibi – collegues and friends looking for a good time in Prague as tourists. She quickly realised we weren’t there for any sessions. She blinked at us. On the table next to ours, a girl was performing a private table dance for a client. It all felt slightly surrealistic. I excused myself. The ladies room was located right next to the private rooms clients could hire for “special menu” sessions. Naked pictures of the girls working in the club along the walls.
Men sitting in the corners and around the dancing pole area, some being completely hypnotized of whatever the girl on the stage was doing with her body, others sipping their drinks and enjoying a cigarette. I noticed how hard it was to balance between keeping cool and at the same time, get the information I needed. It hit me how my attention sharpened because of the fact that I couldn’t take notes of what she was saying. I memorized the way in which she was speaking and how she underlined things with her voice. I started noticing small details like her long, red-painted nails and how she was always smiling although nothing worth smiling about had been said. I took notes in my head about everything she said. For some girls, working legally, this was just another night at work. For others not lucky enough - they were victims of forced labour, controlled by another human being.
Photo courtesy: Anna Wiman