BANCAS ON MANILA BAY

by JOE RACE
Author of ‘Moon Over Manila Bay”
First of two parts.

I met her one evening when I was strolling on the Manila Bay Walkway up near the old Manila Hotel. You might remember that was the headquarters of General Macarthur in the later days of World War II. This evening was one of those gorgeous twilights as the sun was setting over Fort Santiago on the westside of the bay.

Her name was Jennifer, at least that’s the name she was using in the working girl business. The putas (working girls) like to take on celebrity names, especially someone in the movies. Back in the province, she was probably another Maria or Anna. As with so many Filipinas, she was maganda (beautiful) with a perfect little 105-pound body. She was wearing a flashy blouse with sequins which reflected from under the night lights, and very tight-fitting black peddle-pushers. Her smile was contagious but was wearing way too much makeup for my taste. But I knew many men like their women painted up and colorful, and this was her way of attracting customers.

She said that she was waiting for her banca (boat) that would transport her for 500 pesos out to the Russian freighter anchored about two kilometers away. A Russian emissary had contacted her and four of her friends to come to the ship for some short-time boom-boom (sexual contact). The sailors couldn’t come ashore because of immigration problems with the authorities, so rather than going to the bars to find girls, the girls would go to the men. It was expected that each girl would accommodate about three men each. It would be a lucrative night for the ladies at $50 per man per session. Jennifer knew the emissary from past contacts so she wasn’t worried about being mistreated or even worse, not getting paid.

I asked her, “Isn’t it scary to go out to the ships? Hell, you could be carried off or even dumped overboard when the ship was underway.”

“You have to be careful for sure. We know the guy that called us or we wouldn’t do it. A girl was murdered last month by a Japanese customer, and he got away to Japan before the police could stop him at the airport. She was strangled and left in a closet at the hotel.”

“There must be a lot of stories that you girls experience up close and personal.”

“Yeah, Russian sailors really have a bad reputation. They can be real brutes, like they’re angry at the world and everything in it. Two months ago, some of the Russian guys held three girls captive for four days. The mama-san didn’t make a police complaint about their disappearance because prostitution is still illegal, and she was afraid of going to jail. The Russians fucked the girls over and over, and then as they were leaving the harbor, the girls were dropped over the side completely naked near Corregidor. A fishing boat scooped them up, soaking wet and wearing only their life preserver rings. And they never got paid or got their clothes and purses back.”

I noticed that there was emphasis on “not getting paid” and not so much on being fucked over and over, and the possibility of being kidnapped and hauled away to some remote Russian port. I thought to myself, “They are working girls first, and expect to be paid for their services…as do doctors, lawyers and other professionals.”

I asked her, “How about some happy stories? Do you have fun sometimes? It can’t all be sad and dreary – you must enjoy your work sometimes.”

“We do it because we need money for our kids and families. We’d like to settle down like everybody else. Most of the working girls have had 1-2 babies, and the boyfriends and husbands all took off. So we need to work to pay the bills for food, power, medicine and laundry. Most of us have no saleable skills, just the pussy to make money. My mother has high blood pressure and cholesterol so I have to buy her pills for her every week. My daughter is in school and needs money for her tuition and clothes.”

I said, “I know, poverty sucks. But don’t you have fun sometime? You must meet some nice, friendly, generous customers.”

“Oh sure, we’re always looking for the guy that will marry us and take us away to a nice country. That doesn’t happen but sometimes we luck out, like last month. A US Navy ship sailed into the bay, carrying marines and helicopters headed for Mindanao. Because the captain was worried about physical attacks on the marines in the city, he wouldn’t let the men come ashore. However, as they told us, the captain looked sideways, and didn’t care if the old sergeants lined up some ladies for the men. They had been at sea for two months and were needy boys.”

“And…”

“Three sergeants, who knew Manila, came ashore in civilian clothes and lined up some girls. The cell phones were buzzing all over town, and they had the girls rendezvous at the Frisco Café. They only wanted fifty girls, but soon there were about a hundred girls ready to go to the ship. The girls were mostly all beautiful, so the sergeants had no choice but to put numbers in a hat, and the first women to draw a number under fifty was eligible to go.”

I asked, “And you got to go?”

Laughingly she answered, “Yeah, I did! I drew number 27, and my friend, Beyonce’, drew number 28. What a piece of good fortune. You should see Beyonce’ – she is a gorgeous halfa-halfa. Her father was a real tall African-American guy, and her mother was a beauty from Cebu.”

“She’s probably a beauty for sure.”

“Before going out to the massive ship, we were told each sailor had to pay one hundred dollars for each session. The marines had been at sea for so long, and their bank accounts kept growing and they had nowhere to spend their money. The plans were to have us on the ship for about five hours, and the girls began deciding on how they could fit in 3-5 guys and make a lot of money.”

One of the husky sergeants named Roy said, “Girls, you don’t need any fancy tricks to satisfy these guys. All it will take for them to explode is to see a bare breast or a round butt.”

The sergeants started to leave and said they would expect us at the ship in about three hours, just before midnight. The husky sergeant promised us a nice steak dinner, plenty of rice and bottles of California wine.” Just before he got in the taxi to go return to the waterfront, he whispered to me, “Don’t worry about protection. We have cartons of condoms aboard and plenty of oil and lubricants.” He smiled and then said, “If I remember right, you gals never need lubricating.”

She recalled that she smiled back and said in a flirting manner, patting him on the butt, “You’re right, Sarge, as long as they’re guapo (handsome) like you.”

I asked, “How do you arrange all the logistics on such short notice?”

“Hey, we’re all into survival. If there’s money to be made, we go for it, and everyone pitches in. Somehow or another, I got appointed ate’ (older leader), so I just started telling the girls what to do. I told two of the girls to make sure that all the cell phones were loaded and working, I had another duo arrange for the taxis for transportation to the waterfront and had three more of the girls go to the waterfront right away and get the bancas ready.”

“So it went okay?”

“Yep, and then some. The husky sergeant called me on my cell phone and asked if I would stay with him for the entire time. Since he was assigned to the kitchen area, he promised me lots of snacks and good food. I liked him. He was a nice man, so I agreed. He asked me to wear a skirt with sexy panties. Another marine sergeant called and asked for ten more girls for the lower ranking officers, which was no problem. There were still another hundred girls waiting around in the café for customers. I picked out ten of my reliable friends and added them to the list.”

Grinning, I asked, “Do the girls have to give you money like a mama-san, since you got them work?”

“I just remind them that a little token of their appreciation would be acceptable. We all know the routine.”

“Like twenty percent?”

“No, I never charge them that much. I know they need money for their families, so ten percent is plenty, which could amount to a nice pile of extra pesos if they get 3-4 guys each.”

“How about you. With one guy, won’t you lose money?”

“I figured the girls will give me some money, and maybe the sergeant will give me a good tip. I always provide good service, so I get a lot of tips. Even though it’s a business deal, I like a little romance and love thrown with the lust and boom-boom. I usually like only one man a night, and if I can, I like to have the same man for a whole week or month, and go somewhere like Boracay Island.”

“Oh, the romantic Filipina. That’s sweet. You’re a good woman.” I paused and asked, “And how did it go on the US Navy warship. No one would believe this story back home.”

“I know, but it happened. I was there.” She added, “Here’s what developed when we all got to the waterfront. The bancas were waiting and all lined up, six girls to a boat.”

I chuckled and inquired, “And there were life preservers, lights and safety gear on the boats, and the girls were checked out to see if they could swim, right?”

She playfully punched me on the shoulder, and exclaimed, “Hombre, have you forgotten you are in the Philippines. We don’t believe in any stinking safety gear.”

“So you pushed off, and then?”

“We were quickly stopped by the Filipino Coast Guard. The commander, who had probably been tipped off, said that the girls couldn’t go aboard the US warship, and gave the banca operators a long lecture about prostitution being against the law. He told us to turn around. But the boat operators had anticipated this, and paid the main coastguardsman one hundred pesos per girl, and we were soon on our way again.”

She continued, “We noticed that the two Coast Guard ships followed us out to the warship. As we got closer, one of the Coast Guard ships pulled along our little flotilla, and an officer said over the loudspeaker, “Remember ladies, you are representing the Republic of the Philippines, and we want you make the marines and navy guys very happy. Make us proud to be Filipinos.” He hesitated and concluded, “And remember always, we are protecting our country. So if there is an overflow of gifts for your hard work, remember your Coast Guardsmen out here on the job. A pasolubong (present) would be well received!”

“Did the girls get into the fun. It sounds like it became festive, like almost a party.”

“Oh yeah, the girls all waved back. Several of the full-breasted girls raised their blouses and bras, and shook their susus (breasts) at the coast guardsmen. The men cheered and several of the guys pretended to be fucking a girl doggie-style.”

To be continued….

Joe Race is retired from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department and has completed tours of police assignments in several US states, Saipan, Kosovo and Bosnia. He currently lives in Saipan where, among other activities, he writes prolifically. (Friends wonder in amazement where he finds the energy and motivation.) In his free time, Joe helps build houses for impoverished people through Habitat for Humanity in the Philippines and Botswana, Africa. He is the author of seven books, including “Moon Over Manila,’ ‘Continuin On,’ ‘Sitting on a Goldmine,’ ‘and ‘Hawaiian Paniolo.’ To learn more about Joe and his books, visit his website at www.josephrace.com.