London Calling Katy Molloy

‘Ever dreamt about quitting the day job, giving everything up and going to volunteer for a cause you care passionately about?’ asks the first page of Katy Molloy’s blog, Katy Lost in Cambodia.

I’m sure all of us have dreamed about it at some point. We’ve all read something in the paper, or heard a moving story over a glass of wine in the pub and decided that we absolutely must do something about it.

Then slowly but surely, real life takes over. We have a stressful day in the office, a tube to catch, a party to go to…

Every day London becomes the centre of our universe again and thoughts of making a difference fade into the background, as we pound the pavements, dodging charity chuggers.

Well, most of us do. In early 2009, Londoner Katy Molloy read Somali Mam’s book The Road of Lost Innocence. Mam was sold to the sex trade in Cambodia at the age of eight. 

‘I was so shocked about the realities of human trafficking that on completing it, I strongly felt I had to try do something, no matter how small.’ Katy explains. So she did what most of us wouldn’t – she quit her job in advertising, left her London flat, her high heels and her disposable income and upped sticks to third world Cambodia  to volunteer for Somali Mam’s charity,  ‘AFESIP’.

When Katy and I manage to coordinate timezones and get over my blatant inability to understand Skype, I’m intrigued to understand just what it is that drives someone to make such a dramatic life change. I ask her to tell me a bit about her old life in London.

‘I was working in advertising’ Katy explains. I’d worked my way up the ladder – I came to London as a PA and I’d just got to Senior Account Manager. I really liked my job but I had that nagging feeling where you ask “do I really care about this?”’

Then she read The Road of Lost Innocence and everything changed. ‘I realised that despite reading the papers and feeling like I know what’s going on in the world I had never heard an in-depth conversation about human trafficking. I never knew that some of these women in the sex trade genuinely do not know what they’re getting in to. In the last couple of years, human trafficking has made more money than the trading of weapons. I was so shocked, how had I not heard about this? I was so angry, I thought, I just have to do something.’

By an amazing twist of fate, AFESIP team in Cambodia were in desperate need of someone with PR and project management experience – something that directly reflected Katy’s job experience.  Several months of fundraising followed, until it was finally time to take the plunge.

‘I handed in my notice on my flat and my job, couch-surfed for a couple of months and moved out here in Feb. I had never even been to Cambodia before.’

I tell her I would have been terrified at the prospect of handing in my notice at work, giving up my house… ‘ I think for me the biggest point was telling my mum. That was when it seemed real. I remember I was sat outside St Paul’s Cathedral, calling to tell her I was leaving my job and going to volunteer in Cambodia. My mum knows me well and that I don’t do things on a whim. Then she read the book and said ‘firstly, your dad is not reading this. Secondly, you are not definitely going. We are going to speak about this’. 

Katy admits that the past year has been a huge learning curve – and not just because the working day starts at a horribly early 7.30am.

‘I’m the only volunteer who’s actually stayed a whole year, in 13 years. It’s been really tough at times. A big part of our job is letting people know about us, and building trust. If your aunt has sold you aged 14, you wouldn’t trust anyone, especially not some foreigner asking you to come to a shelter.’

Her role involves everything from report writing and managing donor relationships, to coordinating projects with other charities and interviewing prospective new staff.

‘As a volunteer it’s really important to be capacity-building the staff you work with. The last thing you want to do is take a job a local person could do. I’ve tried to pass on the knowledge I got from my education in the UK and working in business, so that when I have to leave, it’ll be sustainable’.

Although it’s an uncomfortable subject to discuss, sitting in my comfy north London flat with a cup of tea, I ask Katy what exactly is happening in Cambodia, and why human trafficking is such a huge problem.

She says that one of the hardest lessons she’s learned is that ‘nothing is black and white’. The huge cultural differences, particularly in the treatment of women and children, make it very difficult to explain. ‘Kids are so sheltered and taken care of in the UK, so it’s hard to imagine a society where kids are very unaccounted for. If someone harmed a child in the UK, there would be uproar. It’s not like that here. 80 per cent of Cambodia’s population was under 18 not that long ago. Children are everywhere, who is going to report it if one of them goes missing?’

There is also a misconception about girls who ‘choose’ to enter into the sex industry. Katy explains that, while some may not have been physically forced, it may have been the only choice they have.

‘These are girls who have sacrificed having a husband  and a future for themselves because they have five brothers and sisters and a mum who’s dying – so they go and sell their virginity, because it’s the only thing they can do. It makes me so angry. When you look at the options they had, your heart just bleeds for them.’

I’m also shocked to hear that the echos of our recession have had a huge knock-on effect on human trafficking in Cambodia.

‘When a lot of the garment factories closed in 2008 because of the recession, there were about 40,000 girls out of work.’ Katy explains. ‘A lot of them moved to massage parlours. A lot of them are telling their parents they still work at the garment factories.’

When I tell her I think she’s made an incredibly brave choice, Katy just shrugs. Or at least I imagine she does, over the phone, thousands of miles away. I get the impression that for her, this wasn’t really a choice – it was something she felt she had to do. I can imagine you miss London, I say.

‘God, of course!’ she says. ‘I miss lie-ins. I had a 9.30 start when I worked in advertising, and I’d  arrive at work with a prêt coffee… I miss Prêt coffee!’

The next morning, I arrive at my office, holding a Prêt coffee. It’s probably already the middle of the day in Cambodia, and my mind starts to wander towards fundraising ideas, sponsorship opportunities, some way to make a difference. I think Katy’s right – maybe we should all be doing something to help, no matter how small.