Culture Matters

Adventures of a

Christmas Angel

DARA E HEALY

'AYUDAME, por favor.'

Angel looked at the piece of paper the scantily dressed young woman slipped under the cloth she was using to wipe the bar. With her limited Spanish she recognised the words written in lipstick on a piece of toilet paper - 'Help me, please.'

Inside the seedy, crowded bar the lighting was dim. A few Christmas lights scattered around the room blinked in a desperate attempt to be festive. Patrons talked in hushed tones in cubicles or danced to their favourite songs, the more explicit the better. Angel learned to tune out the music, vulgar dancing and the constant flow of people.

When alcohol and other substances made some of the men too friendly towards her, Jorge the bouncer would stand next to them, all six-foot-something of him rippling in his vest and tight jeans with bulges not only in the expected places. Jorge never once said a word, but the men would stop their grinning and salivating and slink away.

Angel had been working at the bar in a shabby section of the city for a little while. She was saving for her fashion degree and the newspaper ad seemed perfect. Applicants should be female, no older than 25 and willing to learn. The owner, an overweight man in a short T-shirt that revealed his expanse of stomach, puffed on his cigar and sized her up. She started the next night. She served drinks, made conversation and, most importantly, collected tips.

Gradually Angel began to notice other things. For instance, the girl who slipped her the note would come in with two, sometimes three other Spanish-speaking women and a man - short, dark glasses, baggy clothes and heavy gold chains. They would spend a short time in the bar area and then head off somewhere behind the building.

'Ah coming back.' Angel headed to the bathroom and opened the piece of toilet paper with the words asking for help, her mind spinning. She stared into the mirror, then decided - she was going to help that girl.

'Is wha gwaan gyal? Yuh 'ave de runnings or wha'?' Cedelia from Jamaica startled Angel. Cedelia cackled and checked her lipstick in the mirror. 'Gyal galang back by the bar eh. Meh soon come.'

As soon as Angel walked out of the bathroom, the smile fell from Cedelia's face. She checked all the stalls and the bin before walking out.

'Aye Dex, you awake? Meet me home.' Angel called her friend as she walked home after her shift. 'Girl, is two o'clock in the morning. Suppose I hugging up with a nice…' Angel cut him off. 'Just meet meh.'

Dexter walked into Angel's tiny studio apartment. 'Girl you real lucky you nice eh, to geh me…'

Angel shoved the tissue in his hand. 'Look, a girl slip me this tonight.'

Dexter squinted at the paper. 'And you wha?'

'

Ayudame, boy. It mean, 'Help me.' Dex, I feel they trafficking women in that place.'

'And what you w