Anyway You Look At It, It's people Smuggling, Pure And Simple

As a lad at school marbles was a bit of a thing as, during breaks the playground took on the guise of a giant marble bazaar. For the adventurous, you could test your skills trying to knock down a pyramid of brightly coloured pieces of all the colours of the rainbow in sideshow alley, where the ‘house’ had set up shop.

This was the domain of the gamblers the risk takers, the scoundrels and the merchants who called, like sirens from the sea tempting the passing trade to have a shot, knock the pyramid over and walk away with the spoils.

Here were the bookmakers of the future testing the odds. Miss a shot and your marbles were forfeited, no second chances, and, like punters everywhere, you figured and were encouraged to have...one more go!!
Have a bad day and your precious stash would be seriously depleted or worse luck, wiped out. Another part of the playground was where the traders gathered, sitting in the shade, their wares spread before them on bolts of cloth like money lenders in a bazaar.

Bartering here was fierce and not for the faint-hearted. Today's traders on our stock market floors no doubt learned their future trades in these schoolyards later to ply their skills in the bullring of life.

It was intense and equally brutal. A particularly adept trader was a beefy boy who went by the name of Leroy Stead, a class bully whose intimidation tactics bordered on the sadistic.

He always had the most exquisite of pieces, marbles you only dream about, acquired by adept trading or extortion; I was never quite sure. One’s own portfolio was at times acceptable but certainly nothing like his, whose products lay on his trading mat like fine jewels glistening in the sunlight.

When it became your turn to trade, no matter how hard you negotiated you always seemed to walk away with a 'nice' piece, but was it really worth the swap of 14 of your best marbles for that one, seductive, deliciously shiny beauty that could be lost in just one throw in the hurley -burley of marble alley? I suspect Leroy ended up in merchant banking or as a stand over merchant for the mob.

So, where is this ramble leading? Well, it's an analogy of sorts, as right now, on a small tropical island in the Pacific and S.E. Asia similar bartering sessions are taking place.

Only this time its people who are the currency.

Not too long ago a deal was struck between the governments of Malaysia and Australia that went along the lines of: “We'll give you 800 of our lot and we'll take 4000 of yours and, as a sweetener, we'll fly the first instalment over at our cost. But “wait, there's more”! We will also send a contingent of riot police to ensure that the cargo arrives in good shape, just in case they get a little upset, you understand.” It's a good deal for us as, after all, these 'illegal' boat people probably walked from Afghanistan, Iraq or wherever, spent a year or so waiting in Indonesian camps, then hopped a boat that challenged the term 'seaworthy,' and eventually made it to our shores.

This means, our latest 'crop' (sic) are tired, sick and worn out and therefore, we don't really want them. After all, when it comes to refugees there are certain standards that must be maintained and by the way, some even had the audacity to bring their kids!

So, time to do the 'deal'. We'll whizz them over to you and, in return, we'll take the ones who look healthy and hopefully processed.

Other ‘processing centres abound, including Manus Island, off Papua New Guinea, a mountainous and jungle-covered piece of land where a detention centre for refugees was constructed a couple of years ago. Amnesty International recently described this ‘holding pen,’ as “ A human rights catastrophe comprising a toxic mix of uncertainty, unlawful detention and inhumane conditions.”

People here are seemingly traded at will and sent hither and thither after ‘resting’ in these detention camps. (Truth is, the government would rather be sending them from whence they came.) After enduring the most tragic of circumstances ‘at home’ these poor souls have made a heroic journey only to find that they end up behind barbed wire waiting for someone, somewhere far away to decide their fate.

Trading in slaves was outlawed a long time ago, but for these tragic people.... it must feel like not much has changed. If only for a second could those in power simply read Emma Lazarus’s wonderful piece inscribed on the base of the statue of liberty and reflect a while.

“Give me you're tired, your poor, 
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, 
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. 
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: 
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

I doubt that they will, so in the interim, I'll trade you 11 of my slightly chipped marbles for that stunning Florentine piece you have on the market.

This piece was published several times between 2015  and 2018 in various publications. Given the ongoing crisis, it seems prudent to run it again.

Paul v Walters is an author of five best selling novels and when not cocooned in sloth and procrastination scribbles for several international travel journals.