I had no money at the time. I didn't really have a choice. None of us did. It was accepted. Something everybody just lived by... or rather, lived on. You see, you Americans couldn't possibly understand. You can't understand how emasculating it is, to see your wife have to sleep with another man to have food on the table... and you, having to consent to it, not because someone put a gun to your head, or because she's sneaking around behind your back...
But because if you didn't, you couldn't be with her.
This isn't uncommon throughout human history, if you Americans even care about anything outside of your own. Did you not have slaves once yourselves? Slaves are not a thing of the past. You see, in my country, we have very few landowners, and very many workers. And with so few people in control, benevolence and giving to others is a very far-fetched ideal... although our national religion claims to be otherwise, and so does yours. Was not your country the same? The only work that we men have is serving foreigners like you, coming here to see our beautiful country, celebrating and enjoying the lives they lead, waiting for your vacation days... to "get away" from it all. Imagine that...
Vacation.
God if I could only get away from this place, from this country... for free men and bond men walk here along the same streets, but never to the same place. The rich man and the poor man have two eyes, two feet and two hands... but one has golden chains around theirs, and the other... silver shackles. We have forever dwelled in the shadow of those who walk before us, as our masters, our "givers", the ones who take our wives who in return give us what we need. This is my giver. This is my land of the free. Does it really matter to you though? I mean, you don't want to ruin your honeymoon, do you?
I have seen you smile, gazing into the eyes of your fiance, and in the dark have seen you grin at my newly wed wife, riding in the back seat of my car... watching her smile back at you, wondering when the night will finally be over. Many foreigners come here because our country is beautiful; I do not find it beautiful. If there ever was a good, beautiful God, this is not the place He would have made. We worship idle statues and buildings, burning incense and fragrances for these images that never give back, and if this is love, if this is considered beauty, then I wish to be free of it. For every time I see you foreigners come, my stomach begins to churn... and my heart begins to thump... because in my heart, I hate you. Yet with my mouth, I must grind my teeth and love you.
I know you foreigner. You walk by a beggar on the street every day of your life, on the richest street in the world, as if he will no longer exist after he has left your sight. Too busy are you? But the beggar still lies there, still hungry, still slowly fading away every day of every morning. And the slave still walks in your shadow, yet you stroll along as if you do not notice me. But one day, you will. For human justice is blind... but not true Justice. You, oh rich child, will be held accountable for everything that you do, did you know that? Do you?
My countrymen... we... do not wish to be beggars, so we have chosen to be slaves. I need money, don't you? So my wife and I have decided that she will be your whore, and I will be your driver. This is not the life of a real man. This is not the life of a free woman. These are the lives of slaves. And you...
You are our customer.
God save us all.
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