I was once sold: How I turned my scars into my strength

I was a migrant worker from Bangladesh, and my dream of a better life turned into a nightmare. But that’s not how my story ends. Standing beside migrant workers is now my life’s mission.

BY AL-AMIN NOYON

This story was originally published on The Good Feed. It has been reposted here to commemorate World Day Against Trafficking in Persons, which is marked each year on July 30. Last month, the U.S. Department of State awarded Al-Amin Noyon the prestigious Trafficking in Persons Hero award for his outstanding work to combat human trafficking.

We sat on top of a mountain, staring into the jungle. None of us spoke, but we were all thinking the same thing — how much longer could we do this?

I grew up in a small village. I was raised with a lot of affection — and restrictions. Even after completing secondary school, my parents would not let me go anywhere by myself.

I always dreamt of traveling for work. I saw a TV camera for the first time during a flood in 1998, and followed the journalists for three miles to watch how they worked. They were like magicians to me — their work was what I watched on TV! I wanted to be like them.

After graduating from university, I started to look for a job. The Malaysian job market had just opened for Bangladesh, after a long break. I saw an advertisement on TV and then a man from my village said he could get me there — and I could earn BDT 40,000 (about $340) a month working in a multinational company. I knew that even if I got a good job in Rajshahi, I would be lucky to get half of that. He was familiar, so I trusted him.

My father rejected the idea as soon as he heard it, but I was stubborn. I skipped meals and stopped speaking to him. Eventually, he said I could go, but I was on my own, and would have to find my own path. I happily agreed.

My father ended up relenting, and sold land to pay for my passport and fees. I traveled to Dhaka for the first time, for the health check required to travel. 

The owner of the agency spoke harshly when he saw me, waiting with three other men. “Whose adom are you all?” I sensed something. I was familiar with the term adom pachar (human trafficking) — were we getting trafficked?

I assured myself that I was worrying for nothing. I paid the agent’s fee — BDT 100,000 ($850), and, within two months and an extra fee of BDT 20,000 ($170) to speed up visa processing, I was on my way to my dream.

On the day of the flight there was a bus waiting outside the agency, and we were asked to sign contracts. There was no electricity, the papers were in English, and we could barely read in the light of a tiny candle. I could sign the contract without checking it or I would miss the opportunity of a lifetime. I signed.

We flew through the night and reached Malaysia in five hours, but there was no one to receive us. One day turned into two. We didn’t have food or money, and drank water from the bathroom sinks. As we waited, we discovered more people stuck like us. Finally, with the help of the immigration police, we contacted our hiring company.

Six of us were taken to a warehouse, where 400 people were already waiting. They screamed at us. Some of them had been staying for months without a job. Five days later, we were taken away by car. At one point we stopped outside an Indian restaurant. We ate and they gave us a phone to speak to our families for the first time in days. We were transferred to another car, and, from the window, I saw the men exchanging money.

We had been sold.

We were driven and then walked into the middle of a jungle. It was full of animals and insects that I never knew existed. We were given a small room and rice and lentils. Our job was to clear the jungle. If we were tired or refused to work, we would be beaten.

I was starved, beaten and held captive in a deep jungle in Malaysia. I was a migrant worker from Bangladesh, and my dream of a better life turned into a nightmare. But that’s not how my story ends.” –Al-Amin Noyon

Six months passed.

One day, sitting together on top of a mountain, we decided we couldn’t take it anymore. None of us knew Malay, so I used signs to communicate that we wanted to return home. I threatened suicide, and we were taken back to the warehouse.

We set a date to escape to the Bangladesh embassy. When that day arrived, 60 of us broke the glass windows and ran. We spread out in groups and walked for two hours. We had no money, so we couldn’t hire transport. Other people heard the news later and broke out at different times during the next day too — eventually there were 110 of us migrants at the embassy.

The staff arranged for us to stay at a shelter home, then the Bangladesh government stepped in, and, after a month, we were repatriated. The government worked to make the recruiting agency return our fees.

Coming back to the country saved my life, but I then faced another nightmare — I was seen as a failure. My father could not go out. People told him I wouldn’t be able to do anything in life.

I decided to move to Dhaka. I knew I had to tell my story and I also knew there were many others who had their dreams shattered like mine. I wanted to create awareness about migration.

I joined BRAC’s migration program in 2017. Today, I lead the emergency support and reintegration program for returnee migrants, and I have directly supported over 34,000 people. My father takes immense pride in my work.

I turned my scars into my strength. Standing beside migrant workers is now my life’s mission.” –Al-Amin Noyon

Throughout those seven months in Malaysia, I never had a pillow. I would wrap my shoes with a towel and clothes. Standing beside migrant workers is my duty. I deeply feel their suffering. 

One day I received a call from the airport police informing me of a pregnant 23-year-old girl who had returned. She wanted to die as her family refused to take her back. We arranged emergency mental health support and medical care, and now she has a job and is leading a productive life.

I travel a lot now for my work, and I am often interviewed on TV. Those dreams I had as a 11-year-old boy came true. There have been some bumps, but I have always found a way — and the ending is better than I ever expected.

Al-Amin Noyon is Manager at BRAC’s Migration Welfare Center.