We Play While Our Parents Are Slaves
We Play While Our Parents Are Slaves. In the Free Trade Zone at the northern end of Jakarta, you will find a city within a city. An area within a country that’s not obliged by the laws of the country in which it lies. Because here, foreign companies have their products assembled, clothes sown and merchandise reshipped, without it ever touching Indonesian soil, ludicrous as that might sound. Workers are paid and work in slave like conditions, without the right to organise themselves. Physical assaults are not uncommon and especially women are vulnerable to this type of terror being used on the workers to keep them as the modern slaves they are.
In the midst of this adult world, in this midst of our modern era slavery, I find these children swimming in the dirty water, in between the ships loaded with supplies for the world, that enslave their parents. A play that specks the charcoal world around them with a speck of angelic white.