The Natashas: The New Global Sex Trade

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These women and girls are victims of rape. They have suffered enough. To ensure that they do not endure further humiliation or embarrassment, their names have been changed.

Marika was hit by a blast of hot, dry air as she emerged from the aircraft at Cairo’s international airport. The tall, green-eyed, nineteen-year-old blonde looked around, bewildered. Exhausted and nervous, she shuffled into the customs line. An olive-faced officer thumbed through her passport, shot a cursory glance in her direction and stamped an entry visa onto a blank page. When she emerged into the jammed arrival area with her one piece of luggage in hand, she was met by a burly Russian. He grunted her name. She nodded and he grabbed her firmly by the arm, escorting her briskly to a tan, dust-covered, four-wheel-drive jeep.

Crammed in the back seat were three other women—two from Moldova and one from Russia—all in their late teens. The girls were silent. They looked pensive and frightened. The driver shoved Marika into the front passenger side and wedged his beefy gut behind the wheel. “We have no time to waste,” he bellowed in Russian. “I have to get to the rendezvous point in two hours.”

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