The Trafficking Issue [Belarus+Denmark]

[Denmark]

- 2009 - Denmark Launches A Programme Against Human Trafficking in Belarus, Moldova and Ukraine -

---

Mathias,
These are our orders.

We order you to not mention the Chernobyl disaster. I don't care if she has half her face melted from the effects, or if you see kids with three legs running about. You will not comment on anything related to radiation or nuclear power.

We order you not to mention anything about the relationship with Russia. Even if the she carries a miniature replica of Russia or is wearing a dress made up of photos of him, or is stabbing a voodoo doll of him during your meeting. You will not comment on anything related to Russia, the Soviet era, or communism. If she raises the topic of Russia, you will say "I can see it is a complicated issue" or simply "I see", as appropriate. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES OFFER YOUR OPINION.

We order you not to pass judgment on President Lukashenko. He is an object to work around. You will not make him a key problem. If he must be mentioned, you will say "I know you are dealing with some internal affairs." You will not make any other comments about Belarusian politics.

We want to make Belarus a trading partner and ally, while there aren't too many competitors for her affections. Mathias, Belarus currently has no reason to like us, but she has no reason to dislike us. Don't give her one.

And make sure you have a clean shirt on.

Margrete
Lars

--

Mathias re-folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket of his dark jeans. His queen and prime minister seemed very nervous about the meeting today - they were extremely keen to get relations with Belarus off to a good start by offering aid - but this list of orders wasn't necessary. After all, what was there to dislike about him?

Besides, I'm not a complete idiot.

He was just as keen to make new friends as they were. Most of his old ones thought he was, well, a bit of a tool. And even he had to admit it, they had good reasons. It was difficult to suddenly change to a mutually respectful relationship when the one in the past had been based around bossiness and bullying. Now was the chance to start from scratch.

Despite his leaders' lack of faith in his abilities to make new friends, and the pressure that rode upon this mission, Mathias had been enjoying himself. He hadn't known what to expect when he got off the train last night, but he was beginning to like Minsk. There was a mix of old and new, of greenery and the concrete jungle, of beauty and strength that appealed to him. The forests on the edge of the city certainly took his fancy, and there was a bevy of beautiful ladies to keep his eyes entertained if he found himself in a less attractive part of town. And the Red Church, though decidedly Russian - and I can't say that, so don't even think it - and certainly no match for his own ancient architecture, was a beautiful Church.

Mathias sighed and tried to make himself a bit more comfortable in the back seat of the taxi. This new shirt, worn as ordered, was a bit too crisp to fully relax in, but the grey-and-black pinstripe material was striking against his pale looks. He was fairly confident he looked good. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

They were getting close. He rechecked the address scrawled on the back of his hand.

2 Lenin Street.

Lenin Street?

He sighed noisily. "You've got to be kidding me. How am I ever going to avoid mentioning Ivan today?"

The taxi driver gave the man speaking Danish to himself a side-long look through the rearview mirror, but didn't comment.

This whole place is practically a tribute to him!

Wish Greenland made Nuuk a tribute to me.

Still, it was important not to lose focus, and as the taxi took him through the last leg of his journey he turned his mind to the reason he'd come. Certainly human trafficking was a grave problem in Belarus, and surely help in stopping it would be welcomed, but the small nation was notorious for not wanting Western interference. In the past, Russia had always looked out for her. It could be difficult to persuade Natalya to allow him to help, especially when her relationship with her brother had historically been so... er... strong. Maybe she felt she had all the friends she needed.

Who on earth would fancy and terrify Russia at the same time? Mathias pondered it as the taxi pulled into a park, but all he could think of was Russia in a dress. This was most disturbing.

Oh well, time for the magic to happen.

He paid the driver and hopped out, looking up at the multi-storied Grand Cafe. This was arguably one of the best places to dine in Minsk. Confidently, he strolled through the glass doors and up to the desk, checking his collar was properly folded and his hair suitably messy as he passed the reflective glass.

Perfect. How can she resist?

"Good afternoon," he began in heavily-accented Russian, "My name is Mathias Køhler. I have a reservation under the name 'Natalya Arlovskaya'."

--
AN: OMG sorry I didn't realise it had symbolized all my punctuation. Damnit.

[Belarus]

Natalya frowned, completely perplexed. Mathias Køhler, Denmark, wished to speak with her. No one ever wanted to speak with her. Ever. If anyone wanted something, they would either take it from her, force her to comply, or they would stoop to sneakily taking it from under her very nose.

Watching her reflection as she brushed out her hair, Natalya mentally reflected on the notification she received from her boss about the meeting she would attend. It wasn’t exactly a flowery affair. She was to meet with Mathias at the Grand Café in Minsk for a “meet and greet” sort of opening to a potential business relationship. It was still rather cryptic as President Lukashenko wouldn’t tell her any details on the matter, only that her presence was requested at the café for a discussion. Natalya frowned at her reflection, putting the trademark bow in her hair. It would be wonderful to have a few details about what they were meeting about at least. Looking down at the note, she reads it again.

Natalya,

You are to meet with Mathias Køhler at 11:00 tomorrow at the Grand Café in Minsk. Listen to his ideas, and bring in a full report the following day.

-Alexander

Why in the world is everyone being so hush-hush lately? Well, Natalya supposed it had to do with the fact that Lukashenko NEVER gave anyone a straight answer if he could help it. You would think that he would at /least/ tell Natalya since she /is/ the physical representation of the country.

Unfortunately it has always been this way. It didn’t matter who was ‘in charge’ of her, or whether she was an independent nation; The fact of the matter was still the same. Natalya was the last to know, and the one who knew the least.

Natalya sighed deeply as she stood, smoothing out her skirts and picking up her money for a bus ticket and a small bite to eat. It’s as though she’s going on an adventure of sorts, and in a sense she is doing just that.

~

The walk to the bus stop was uneventful, as was the ride from the stop into downtown Minsk. Things looked positive so far. Maybe, just maybe this meeting would turn out to be a good thing.

Entering the café, she nodded to the hostess, alerting her that another guest would be arriving soon, but she didn’t have to wait long. A tall blond was soon approaching, and from the cocky smirk she was confident that it must be Mathias. She rose from her seat, hand out stretched in greeting.

“Hello Mathias. It seems we are to do business together.”

---

Note: I'm SO sorry it took me so long, and it's nothing special. Thank you for being patient!

[Denmark]

The pretty hostess indicated a table to the right but kept her eyes on his face, returning his smile with more warmth. She was young and fresh-faced. Mathias' own grin grew wider. He would have lingered to speak with her further - perhaps asked her when she finished work and if she'd be agreeable to showing him around Minks - but it seemed he wasn't the first to arrive.

"Hello Mathias."

He nearly jumped at the sound of that cool, feminine voice behind him and turned quickly to face the speaker. He found himself gazing over her right ear. She was a lot shorter than he’d expected of Ivan’s sisters.

“It seems we are to do business together.”

”Natalya.”

He dropped his eyes to her out-stretched right hand and moved to grip it in his own, placing his other gently on her shoulder and leaning in to lightly kiss her smooth cheek in friendly greeting before releasing her and looking at her properly.

The hostess made a slight huffing noise at that and turned away, suddenly busying herself with her notebook.

His bosses needn’t have been so concerned. There were no tattoos or a doll of Russia in sight. There was no sign of any radiation damage to her physical form, either; Lars had wasted his time worrying about Mathias staring insensitively at a badly burned face. He studied her youthful visage with his head slightly cocked to one side, searching for any sign of the damage. Her pale skin was flawless, her long blonde hair glossy and healthy, and her dark eyes were bright and clear. If Chernobyl had affected her physically, it certainly hadn’t marred her face. And she definitely wasn’t a dead ringer for Ivan in a dress. As a matter of fact…

”You’re beautiful," he said unintentionally, and then immediately regretted it. Hitting on the representative was a poor way to begin building what he hoped would be a serious friendship, even if he hadn’t meant it that way. Besides, if what Poland has said was true – and he had no reason to doubt it; the Pole had a knack for finding and spreading gossip – then she would have regularly heard it from her Lithuanian suitor and might be tired of people commenting on her appearance. On the other hand, he had been looking her over like a horse-trader, which was an insensitive way to open a discussion on human trafficking, so perhaps his assessment could even be considered offensive. It had been a bad move all round. If only Lars and Margrete could have foreseen the possibility that Belarus would be a total knock-out, they could have given him some advice on how to talk to her. He moved on hurriedly. ”Er, that is you have a beautiful capital city. I’ve enjoyed looking around it this morning.”

Ah, well done.[/i]

Congratulating himself on his quick save, he stepped toward the table and placed a hand on the back of the chair. He stood there, smiling, and waited for the other nation to sit first.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Natalya,” he said brightly. ”I’m sure we can help each other.”

[Belarus]

Natalya stared at Mathias. “You’re beautiful.” Was a comment she never would have guessed him to say to her. In fact, she had never heard it directed at her at all. She frowned, looking away to hide the embarrassment at hearing his slip of the tongue. She almost grimaced at his next comment: “Er, that is you have a beautiful capital city. I’ve enjoyed looking around it this morning.”

It wasn’t exactly insulting that he backtracked, but it almost wounded her girlish pride. Hopefully he meant no harm by it. She supposed he didn’t seem the sort to treat women poorly, so she decided to let it go this time. She supposed it was the cheerful smile that made her soften to him. He seemed like a decent person, but looks could be deceiving.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Natalya, I’m sure we can help each other.”

She hummed under her breath. Help each other? What in the world could that mean?

“I suppose you have something you would like to speak to me about then?” Natalya cringed inwardly. She didn’t mean to sound so cold. It was just easier to present herself as strong and unshakable so she wouldn’t become a target. Yes. That was it. It wasn’t that she was frightened. Chastising herself silently, she gestured to Mathias to have a seat, taking one herself, hoping that Mathias really was as friendly as he seemed.

“Shall we get down to business? Why exactly are you here?”

[Denmark]

Mathias watched that flawless face with a friendly smile. Belarus gave away very little, but he got them impression that she was less than impressed by his offer of help. He felt the urge to cross his fingers, praying she would soon sit or at least say something. If his inappropriate remark had cost him a valuable foreign relationship in under 60 seconds Lars would have a field day. He'd never let Mathias leave the border again.

“I suppose you have something you would like to speak to me about then?”

It was a good thing he'd hitched his grin so firmly or it may have faltered in the presence of that cold, hard voice. Either his ill-timed compliment had really offended her or she doubted that Danish help was necessary in this case. Or was that an expression of embarrassment that now crossed her face? Mathias tried, for once in his life, to imagine what it would be like in her situation. He tried to picture how he would respond if some stranger – not even a family member, and where was her family, anyway? – decided to come to the rescue, showing up in his house uninvited to offer advice on how to deal with a very personal problem. That was a bit too difficult, mainly because he was having trouble imagining that he would ever need help with internal matters, so he instead tried to picture how Norway or Sweden might react. He decided he was lucky to be met with only with an icy vocal quality.

Finally, Natalya sat at the table, gesturing for him to do the same.

He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and pulled his chair in closer to the table. Looking to the side, he caught sight of the waitress and raised a finger to request some water be brought over.

“Shall we get down to business? Why exactly are you here?”

Mathias was stunned. “You mean, you don't know? Luka -” Lars' written order swam into his mind and he stopped mid-sentence, obediently avoiding mentioning Natalya's controversial president directly. He began to recite the agreed-upon phrase instead. “I mean, 'I know you are dealing with some internal affairs'.” A twisted smirk rose to his lips. “But aren't we all?”

The girl dropped off a chilled decanter of water and two glasses. She smiled politely but with markedly less heat than she had shown him prior to her seeing him kiss Belarus' cheek. Whoops. Mathias resisted the temptation to wink at her, and instead kept his gaze on the other nation until the waitress moved away.

“A drink?” He reached for the glassware and began pouring without waiting for a response. It was a disingenious stalling technique, but he needed time to decide how to word his next few sentences. He hadn't expected that Natalya wouldn't know why he'd come. He thought she had known, and therefore had at least agreed to hear him out. But now... It would be like him rocking up to Norway's house, pointing out that the other had a huge pimple on his chin and then saying 'but I can get you a great cream for that'.

What to say? If only one of his politicians were here.

This was going to require a completely different tact than simply smiling and saying they would get on great. Which was what he had been planning.

Oh man... What do I say?

He thought back to when he'd first been told he would be coming to Minsk. Over five hundred Belorusian people had become trafficking victims in the last nine months. Over five hundred. Mostly women, many children. An average of two people per day. He remembered clearly how his Queen had shook her head sadly when they'd discussed the numbers, and how her sadness had turned to quick annoyance when he'd commented that five hundred people wasn't very many, in the scheme of things. Margrete had been very forceful about driving her point home, walking right up to him until they were nose-to-nose.

'Two people a day, Mathias. Two people a day. What if it were Danish children being taking? Every day?

What happens to those children, Mathias? What happens to their families? What happens to those woman and men who are taken? What happens to everyone and everything they leave behind? What happens to those wasted lives? Come on, Mathias, you live for almost ever, tell me the value of a young woman's life. You said “it's only a few”, so explain to me how small this problem is because I just don't see it. What's a few Danish children here and there? Tell me you'd ignore if it was happening here, in Copenhagen. Tell me you'd ignore it if it were in Olso, Nuuk, Torshavn, Stockholm, Reykjavik, Helsinki, or even Tallinn. Go on Mathias, say it.'

Of course, he'd said nothing. He couldn't have ignored it. Wouldn't have ignored it. Even, as she said, in Estonia, which was long out of his control and not that far from Belarus in more ways than just distance. And as he'd listened to Margrete and Lars explain the situation, he'd easily seen how it wasn't just Belarus' problem. Organised crime, particularly one so distasteful, was insidious and infectious. It wasn't just Belarus' problem because that's where the victims came from. Trafficked Belorusians might even end up in slavery within his borders. They'd certainly been found in Germany. Shaking one's head at the problems of the 'Old Soviet States' was not going to solve this issue because isn't just the fault of a corrupt country. They were all a part of it. A solution needed to be similarly inclusive.

'If it were yours or any of your “brothers'”, you'd be in like a shot. But hey, it's just Belarus. So who cares?'

He offered Natalya the glass of water with a small smile, thinking again how stand-offish she was. She was a veritable ice maiden. It was easy to leave her to her own devices. It was easy to shun her as the cause of the problem.

But that wouldn't fix it.

And two people would still find themselves entering a brutal, wasted life as a slave. Every day. Ever since Margrete mentioned it, he couldn't stop seeing the faces of his own people, of Greenland's, Faroe's, and of his brothers' who he still felt connected to. Every face had an accusatory expression. Denmark knew he could help and he wanted to. Lars might have been more excited about a new foreign relationship – an excitement shared by Mathias, in many ways – but having a purpose was much more important.

She may be too proud to ask for help, but she was so alone.

He knew how that felt.

Somehow he found his tongue again.

“I suppose you know how many of your people it's happening to. More than 0.4% of your population a year? You don't need me to tell you what happens in your own house.” He began to pour himself a glass, suddenly losing the nerve to keep eye contact. He grit his teeth, annoyed with himself, but continued. “And it's not just you, Natalya. It's a problem for Ukraine, too. And others. Both of you must be used to people trying to take your lands and your assets. Well, now they're taking your people.”

The water reached the top of the glass. He put the decanter down.

“Every day, two of your people are captured, smuggled out of the borders, and sold to someone in another country as slaves. They're exploited for sex or hard labour, and some røvhul is getting rich off their suffering. Maybe even some of my own people. It makes me sick just to think about it.”

His grin was long gone. Talking about it made him feel worse about doing nothing for so long. Hearing it made it more real. Citing that he expected Russia to help her out was a hollow excuse, even to his own ears, so he didn't bother to say it. Margrete had been right; if it had been anyone other than Belarus, something would have been done a long time ago. Why was it they left her to battle by herself?

“This is not just a problem with your people, Natalya.” He hoped she believed it. He hoped she'd know he wasn't just another Western country offering criticism. There was no point in detailing that the problem was probably worse for her and her sister because there weaker insitutions to fight corruption and organised crime in their countries. Today was about solutions, not blame. And besides, if he was honest, the blame would be spread so far and wide that appointing any would be a useless exercise. “Your people wouldn't be abducted like this if there weren't people in other countries who wanted them for slaves. Countries like mine. Germany. Russia.”

He looked into her eyes, all trace of silliness or bravado departed.

“I should've come to see you a long time ago. Sitting with you now, I don't know why I didn't. I'm sorry. Truly sorry. But if you'll let me, I want to work with you to stop the trafficking.”

[Belarus]

“You mean, you don't know? I mean, 'I know you are dealing with some internal affairs'. But aren't we all?”

Natalya blinked. Her blue eyes were almost unfocused for a moment. Mathias was certainly an odd man. One moment he’s cheery and pleasant; the next brutally honest and straightforward with no mirth. It was his serious face that she saw at the moment, and it was deeply disheartening.

“I suppose you know how many of your people it's happening to. More than 0.4% of your population a year? You don't need me to tell you what happens in your own house.”

She twitched almost painfully. Human trafficking was what this meeting was about? It was not exactly something that she wanted to think about, let alone have another nation worry about for her. She sat, almost stupidly, just letting the fact that he knew sink in and /she/ didn’t. As he filled the water glasses, she stared on, her thoughts tripping all over each other as he continued.

“And it's not just you, Natalya. It's a problem for Ukraine, too. And others. Both of you must be used to people trying to take your lands and your assets. Well, now they're taking your people.”

Lips twitched as Natalya let his words sink in. She was in trouble, as was her sister. Of /course/ she knew this, but why hadn’t she acknowledged it before now? Maybe it was because she wanted to ignore it. Maybe it was because she had been through so much that it didn’t seem like such an issue at first. No. Now that she acknowledged it, there was a dull ache that had been growing as of late. She assumed it was simply residue from the Chernobyl disaster years before, yet in her heart, she knew that she was simply denying it. Her people were in trouble, and she was turning a blind eye. [/color]

“Every day, two of your people are captured, smuggled out of the borders, and sold to someone in another country as slaves. They're exploited for sex or hard labour, and some røvhul is getting rich off their suffering. Maybe even some of my own people. It makes me sick just to think about it.”

She inhaled sharply, the thought of her people working as sex slaves hitting her deeply. Her teeth clenched, just like the fists forming in her lap. This was preposterous, and wrong. No one, let alone her /own/ people, should be treated in such a manner. Something must be done, and it needs to be done immediately. Her gaze lifted from the table cloth where she had been staring, to Mathias’ serious face. This was reaching emergency proportions it seemed. Two people were being enslaved every day. Now was the time to act since she was staring the problem in the face, so to speak.

“This is not just a problem with your people, Natalya.” She frowned at the comment. Of /course/ it wasn’t a problem with just her people. Others were being mistreated, and possibly killed for unfortunate reasons. “Your people wouldn't be abducted like this if there weren't people in other countries who wanted them for slaves. Countries like mine. Germany. Russia.” A look of anguish passed across her usually icy face. Countries like his? What was he trying to say? He looked so terribly upset as he said this. People in his own country were involved in this? Maybe that’s why he felt so connected to this issue.

“I should've come to see you a long time ago. Sitting with you now, I don't know why I didn't. I'm sorry. Truly sorry. But if you'll let me, I want to work with you to stop the trafficking.”

Natalya took a shaky breath. The atmosphere in the room seemed much heavier than it had in the beginning. This was a serious issue; an honest problem. He seemed so earnest about helping her, too. Natalya closed her eyes for a moment, just letting air fill her lungs as she breathed in and out. After a full minute of silence, she looked up at him again, several emotions in her eyes.

“What should we do?” She knew she was being blunt and entirely unhelpful by leaving it to him, but she was honestly lost in this issue. She hadn’t even properly acknowledged the problem until he brought it to her attention.

Laying her palms flat against the table top, she stared at Mathias, a sort of sadness in her eyes. “What can /I/ do to help my people. I’ve been horrible help to this point. It’s time to fix things. I apparently need your help to do so. I didn’t even recognize that it was happening.” Deflating slightly, Natalya sighed and looked to Mathias. It seemed he was to be her guiding light.

[Denmark]

His spiel over, Mathias watched her with baited breath to see how she would react to his offer of help. It wasn't a bad deal, and he was pretty good company to have around most of the time, but he wouldn't be surprised if she rejected it and sent him packing. This was Belarus, after all, and he'd heard the rumours about her.

The petite girl closed her eyes and breathed deeply, as if she was dizzy and trying to stop the world from spinning. The Dane watched her with curiousity, unable to figure out what was upsetting her so. He assumed she must know that it was happening. Every other country in the world knew what was happening to Belarusians. Maybe it was having a stranger come point it out. Maybe she was trying to control her anger at having a meddlesome nation trying to butt in on her affairs.

The silence between them dragged on. Mathias shifted awkwardly in his seat and sipped at his glass of chilled water while he waited for a response. Even the noise of the cafe seemed muted, but that was probably because he was so focused on the nation opposite.

Finally, just as Denmark was beginning to believe she was going to keep her eyes closed until he disappeared, she looked at him and spoke.

"What should we do?"

Great, another question he hadn't planned on having to answer.
He wished he'd paid more attention to the working team.

Natalya laid her palms on the table. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that gesture - did she mean for him to pat the back of her hand reassuringly?

"What can I do to help my people?"

'Get rid of Lukashenko' was on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to swallow it back. He would need to build up to that, build up to developing democracy, civil society and a free media and all of the things the President opposed. Those measures would certainly help change the atmosphere which made trafficking easier in this country, but maybe that would be a bit insensitive to reel off when things were obviously very wrong here.

"I've been horrible help to this point. It's time to fix things. I apparently need your help to do so."

Oh, fantastic! It sounded like she was going to accept some Danish intervention. Mission successful. Margrethe would be so pleased.

Although if Natalya decided to throw a pity-party it was going to be much more difficult to offer his aid. They had work to do and now that Belarus had agreed to let him help he was eager to get on with it.

Sighing, she added, "I didn't even recognize that it was happening."

That was a stunning revelation.

How couldn't you? How couldn't you know what was happening?

Even if Mathias couldn't feel that hollow ball in his stomach which usually alerted him that something was amiss within his borders, his prime minister or his queen would definitely clue him in.

How strange that Belarus wasn't run in the same way. There was something incredibly wrong here.

His fingers traced the rim of his water glass thoughtfully. How would they stop trafficking?

"Prevention, protection and prosecution," he echoed the preliminary plans of what was beginning to be referred to as 'The Danish Neighbourhood Programme'.

"It's gonna take a long time," he said, "before we even begin to see any
effects. And not just because it's an underground crime. If I want to
stop them taking your people, I'm going to have to stop the other arc of the crime ring..."

The only way to make any impression on the problem would be to attack it in Belarus in conjunction with at least the Balkans, Ukraine Moldova, Croatia and Turkey. It was a long list of areas to target but Denmark was confident he could manage, it was just going to take time.

"I'm going to be spread pretty thin on the ground. At least to start with."

He frowned at how massive an undertaking it would be, then shrugged. He needed a project. And he quite enjoyed mothering other nations. His brothers had long since grown tired of that game, so he needed to find some new recruits.

"I think I'll need six years."

It was a long time to be sitting on their thumbs while people were forced into sexual enslavement. There was only one thing for it...

"So... that will take care of some of the international stuff. What do you think we should do internally?"

Satisfied that he wouldn't immediately be sent packing, Mathias looked about for the pretty waitress. He was starving, and something from the kitchen smelt fantastic.