I Was Held Hostage and Forced to Pick Cucumbers in the Netherlands

This article was originally published on VICE Netherlands.

I want to share my story anonymously. Not because I’m afraid of the men who locked me up in a house in Almere for months and forced me to work without pay, but because I don’t want to be known as a victim of human trafficking for the rest of my life. I want to close this chapter – but it’s important for me to tell my story one last time. Because anyone – rich or poor, young or old – can become a victim.

I grew up in Bulgaria and had a normal, quiet childhood. I participated in after-school activities and was a member of several youth clubs. Ultimately, I ended up studying business management at a prestigious English-speaking university in Bulgaria.

I dreamed of traveling, but during my studies I was mainly focused on starting my own business. This was in 2009, during the financial crisis. At the time, the Bulgarian government was linked to many unsavoury activities, and I fell victim to this when a man who was well-connected within the government wanted to buy my business. When I told him I wasn’t interested, he wrongfully claimed that I owed him a lot of money. I didn’t have a lawyer, so he won a court case against me and I was forced to declare bankruptcy and repay my supposed debts.

I first met Choco* though friends, during a visit to the Netherlands. I would go there on holiday from time to time, because I really liked the country. Choco said he ran an employment agency. We stayed in touch via social media. In 2016, Choco reached out; he said he could help me find an office job in the Netherlands, because I speak English well and have experience in the business world. He told me he could also find me a place to stay. To me, it felt like a way out of the unpleasant situation I was in at the time.

Choco and I arranged to meet up in Austria, where he would pick me up in his car. When we were halfway to the Netherlands, he said he couldn’t give me the job he had promised me. He presented me with two options: he could leave me on the side of the road, or I could go to the Netherlands with him and pick cucumbers. I didn’t have any money, so I chose the second option. He promised me that it was only temporary and that he’d find me an office job very soon. I would be making €6 an hour [below minimum wage in the Netherlands]. He said he’d draw up a contract so I wouldn’t have to work illegally.

We arrived at a house in the vicinity of Almere, right by the greenhouses where the cucumbers grew. The house had three bedrooms and one bathroom, and there were already more than ten people living there. Soon after me, five more joined. Some of them slept in the garage. A family with kids was in the living room. The bedrooms were taken up by Choco and his family. I slept in the attic, together with a group of others. We didn’t have any mattresses. 

I couldn’t trust Choco, but I still held out hope that I could use the money I made to build a life in the Netherlands. Also, there was no way for me to go back home – I didn’t have the money to make the trip.

A few days into my stay, Choco’s demeanour changed. He started treating us like we were his property. Our work days were long and hard. The kids were also forced to work. We weren’t allowed to leave the property. That was a rule he created after I struck up a conversation with the neighbours while I was out on a run around the house. When I didn’t obey him, he became aggressive and threatened to withhold my salary.

During the entire three months I worked there, that salary remained elusive. He had promised to pay us every week, but because he’d found me my job, he said I had to pay him a one-time fee of €300. I was also forced to pay him a sizeable amount for the car trip to the Netherlands, and the cost of rent and food were taken out of our pay. The nearest supermarket was a one hour walk from the house. Because we worked until late at night with only a 30-minute break, we had to buy food from Choco. He charged us five times supermarket prices and, on top of that, the “rent” was €300 a month.

So, instead of making money, I was accruing more debt. Certain weeks, I barely ate and worked for hours on end. When I finally paid off my debt, the rent suddenly went up. This is how he postponed payment, time and time again.

I knew something had to change. I was scared to go to the police, because in Bulgaria I’ve experienced police corruption. I was afraid I’d end up on the street in a country where I knew no one. It wasn’t until three months later, when the police freed us, that I learned things are different in the Netherlands.

Instead of going to the police, I decided to go to Almere in secret and find a different employment agency so I could get another job. But when I got there they told me I needed a BSN [citizen service] number. When I googled what that meant, I ended up on the official website of the city of Rotterdam. I know better now, but back then I thought that was the only place I could get a BSN number. I made an appointment to go to Rotterdam, but the day I was supposed to go Choco put me to work all day long.

I called the city of Rotterdam again and explained that I wouldn’t be able to make another appointment for a specific time, because I never knew when I would be working. They said there was nothing they could do for me. Out of pure desperation, I went to the Salvation Army in Almere. But even there I was told there was nothing they could do. Though I mentioned to several people that I was working without being paid, nobody wanted to help me. I lost all hope.

Meanwhile, the circumstances in the greenhouses worsened. When Choco announced that another 15 people would move into the house – meaning we would be living there with 30 people – we stood up to him. In response, Choco said the family who usually slept in the living room had to leave the house that same day. They didn’t have anything: no money, no friends and no place to stay. All they had was a bag of clothes. It was snowing outside when he kicked them out. He threatened to put me on the street as well, without paying me a dime for all the work I’d done. At that moment, I didn’t care that I wouldn’t be paid, I just wanted to get out of there.

While we were arguing, the family Choco had kicked out rang the neighbour’s doorbell. The neighbours immediately understood what was happening and called the police. Choco was arrested and we were all taken to the police station that same evening to make statements. That’s when they told me I had been a victim of human trafficking. Despite everything I went through, I was shocked. I’m not a refugee, I’m well-educated and I come from a stable, normal home. How could something like this have happened to me?

I opted into a Dutch procedure that allows victims of human trafficking three months to think about whether or not they want to file a police report. I decided to do it, but Choco denied everything. He was ultimately ordered to pay a fine and went to jail for 90 days. I’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s back doing what he did to me, only this time in the Dutch province of Zeeland.

Now, four years later, I’ve been able to process my memories of that traumatic time. I still live in the Netherlands – I have an apartment, I like my job and, one day, I hope to start my own business. Still, what I went through did change something inside me. I don’t trust people as easily as I used to. But I’m also proud of myself for escaping a dark and seemingly hopeless situation. I don’t see myself as a victim anymore, but rather as a survivor.

*Alexander is a pseudonym. His real name is known to the editorial team. The man who lured Alexander to the Netherlands went by the name Choco. His real name is also known to the editorial team.