Brang, from Kachin State, also fell foul of the traffickers. A university student before the pandemic, he joined nonviolent protests after the coup and travelled to Laukkai in October of 2021 at the invitation of a friend.
He arrived to learn that his friend had set him up with a scamming company but reluctantly accepted.
Only when he tried to quit, and his bosses told him that they had paid for him under a two-year contract, did he realise his friend had profited from the arrangement.
“I accepted this job because I felt bad freeloading at my friend’s house, but it turned out, I was sold,” said Brang. “I felt betrayed and stabbed in the back.”
By then, however, he was trapped. “I worked like a robot from 8am to 2am without rest. I wasn’t even allowed to leave the building,” he said.
Seated at a long table, he had to search for wealthy-looking women in their 30s and 40s on the Chinese social media and messaging application WeChat, comment on their posts using a translation application, and send them private message requests.
For each woman who accepted, Brang got 300 yuan ($42), and a bonus if the contact led to a scam. But if he did not net at least 10 women a day, he was “punished”.
Most days, only three or four women accepted Brang’s requests, and his bosses beat him in front of the other workers, who were forced to watch in silence as he was thrashed on the bottom. “It was harrowing. I ached when I sat down,” he said.
Brang estimates that he was beaten on 10 to 15 occasions before his company decided he would be more useful to them in a different role. Forced to wear the uniform of a military-affiliated militia, he became a bodyguard for the company’s bosses.
The job offered Brang a sense of the scale of Laukkai’s cyber-scamming industry, as well as the power of the Chinese gangs running it. “The whole of Laukkai was like their city or territory,” he said. “The Myanmar military and militia controlled Laukkai, but they didn’t seem to have that much authority, because the Chinese bosses had enormous amounts of money.”
Although he was no longer beaten, Brang seethed with resentment. Not only did he have to protect the same bosses who were holding him captive, but he was also working for a group associated with the military.
The last straw came when he was forced to beat another worker. Soon after, he requested a leave of absence from his boss, concocting a story that he needed to go home for his mother’s funeral. “I even cried in front of him so that he would let me go,” said Brang.
Months after returning home, he fled to Malaysia, where he joined an undocumented workforce from Myanmar that has swelled since the pandemic. He now fears being caught up in an immigration raid, while he is also struggling to cope with memories of his trafficking. “I’m still traumatised by what I’ve been through,” he said.