Our adventure to the border boonies was not without consequence. The next morning, Elizabeth Molina called me in a rage. The night club owner called RedTrabSex at midnight reporting our visit. Paramilitary men, apparently, stopped by shortly after us, putting the fear of God into Harold’s soul.

Molina was furious that we had not given her a heads up.

“You blew it,” said Molina, president of RedTrabSex. “Why didn’t you go through us? No sex worker, no club owner in Esmeralda will open up to you. I advise you to leave soon. You might have trouble with the paramilitary. The head of the sex worker association in Esmeralda is furious with you. Forget about everything. Get out of town.”

At first, her tirade gave me pause. Had I blown it in a greedy moment of tight scheduled reporting? But as I listened to her go on and on, I came to the conclusion that the real reason for her rage was that we had gotten access to a night club without RedTrabSex acting as ambassadors. We had failed down to bow down to the sex world Queen.

She knew that we were interviewing Lucia, one of the few female brothel owners in Esmeralda, that day. As I hang up, I knew, that she would mobilize rank and file to block that interview. I immediately called Lucia and told her we were on our way. When we reached the brothel, Las Hermanitas, Lucia’s sister parried us at the door.

“The girls won’t talk to you,” she said. “You don’t have permission from the sex worker’s association.”

“Where is Lucia?” I asked.

“She walked off that way,” she lied.

We drove the car up the street and round the block looking for Lucia but she was nowhere to be found. I called her again.

“On a taxi” she said. “Be right there.”

Our interview was on.

Luicia, unlike Harold, or Elizabeth, had full command of her ship. She introduced us to everyone as if we were long lost family members. The clientele, seeing Lucia’s approval, became comfortable with the camera. A number of sex workers refused to talk to us. They had been tipped off, Lucia said, with false rumors. Molina’s work, I am sure.

We interviewd a veteran sexworker, Alexandra, over 40, and a very young girl, Jacklyn. The latter said she was 20, looked less, and admitted to starting work at age 15. The province of Esmeralda has witnessed a surge of minor sex workers. Girls are starting the business as early as 12, according to Jacklyn, Lucia and Elizabeth.

Both women we interviewed worked at Las Hermanitas to support out of wedlock babies.

The brothel was sparse and overheated. Women performed in tight quarters that stunk in the aftermath of its activities. There was no running water. The rooms offered three buckets instead of a sink for washing. Small corner shelves supported personal belongings ranging from vanity mirrors to condoms to nail polish. Handbags containing health and identity papers hang on a single nail.

Las Hermanitas is one of two family run brothels. It operates in daylight hours. The second venue, Las Canitas, opens its doors for the night shift. Lucia and her mother, an aged woman with nutty skin, run the show. Their business is almost 50 years old. Relatives provide labor as bouncers, DJs and bartenders but not as prostitutes.
-- Dominique Soguel