I spoke to dozens of people – from ‘donors’ to brokers – to find out how this exploitative trade thrives on chaos and desperation
• More from this series: Rights and Freedom
They travelled at night, for what seemed like hours, but it was difficult to tell. Yonas was blindfolded and drowsy from the Xanax he had been given. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he could smell salt in the air when the car stopped. Yonas heard Ali, the other passenger, wind down his window and light a cigarette. The driver sat motionless, breathing heavily. Several minutes passed in silence. Then Yonas heard a pinging noise. Someone’s phone had received a message.
The door next to Yonas was opened, and two men escorted him into a building. After they took off his blindfold, the men walked down a long corridor and took the stairs to the basement. There, Yonas entered a room where a man dressed in blue scrubs was talking to Ali, the broker who had brought him here. He assumed the other man was the doctor who would perform the surgery. Before Yonas could ask any questions, he was taken to another room where he was told to change into a surgical gown and wait for a medical attendant to prepare the anaesthetic.
