Laos, the new Azores island of contemporary slavery of poor Mozambicans

Paulo Vilanculo "

The recent discovery of human trafficking networks involving young Mozambicans taken to Laos under false promises of employment exposes a new and painful form of modern slavery. Subjected to degrading conditions and deprived of their freedom, these young people today live a reality of exploitation that evokes the ghosts of the colonial past. This article draws a historical parallel with the deportation of Ngungunhane to the Azores, a symbol of political erasure and Portuguese colonial repression, questioning whether Laos has become the new outpost of African submission in the 21st century, between social vulnerability and Mozambican institutional irony over the tragedy that reveals the failure of national youth protection policies and the persistence of global systems of oppression.What is the mission of our generation in the face of the new Mozambican youth slavery due to lack of income and employment?

The Azores island, located in the North Atlantic and belonging to Portugal, played a silent but significant historical role in the process of Portuguese colonial repression for the Mozambican resistance in the late 19th century, including in the history of resistance of the last Gazan emperor, Ngungunhane, in Mozambique. After the fall of the Gaza Empire and the capture of Ngungunhane by Portuguese colonial forces led by Mouzinho de Albuquerque, the African leader was deported to Angra, Terceira Island, in the Azores as a war trophy, displayed as a symbol of the European “civilizing mission”, where he remained until his death in 1906. The Azores, traditionally seen as a stopover point in the Atlantic trade, were in this context transformed into a space of political exile for colonized leaders. The Portuguese Empire used the archipelago as a “political cemetery” to erase the presence, leadership and resistance of figures who embodied African sovereignty, a colonial strategy of silencing and humiliation, with the aim of breaking the spirit of African resistance and erasing his memory as a symbol of African sovereignty. The archipelago became a symbol of a “cemetery of African leaders”, where uncomfortable figures were hidden from the view of their people.

For Mozambique, the Azores have become a symbol of colonial humiliation, the neutralization of the African enemy and the repression of historical memory. Therefore, in the history of Mozambique, the Azores island represents the place of forced exile, of symbolic defeat imposed by the colonizer and the beginning of a new phase of direct imperial domination over the Mozambican people. Although this case is not the first involving human trafficking, it represents a painful historical repetition and evokes dark parallels with the centuries of slavery and colonial domination, where the Azores served as a trading post and symbolic prison of African pride. This historical memory resonates strongly when we talk today about young Mozambicans sent to distant places, such as Laos, where they are enslaved, isolated and forgotten, in a new form of involuntary exile and modern servitude.

If slave ships once crossed the Atlantic, now it is commercial flights and digital networks that carry out the trafficking. Today, Laos seems to occupy that same place: a new outpost where African bodies are once again reduced to the status of merchandise. Top of the form

In recent months, Mozambique has been rocked by disturbing revelations: dozens of young Mozambicans have been lured by false promises of employment in Southeast Asia and are ending up as victims of a new form of modern slavery in Laos. In May 2025, it was claimed that at least 115 Mozambicans were being held in forced labour in Laos, deprived of their freedom and subjected to degrading conditions. Many were recruited by transnational human trafficking networks, lured by promises of employment in Asia. In Thailand, “young people were being used as labourers who smelled of fraud and slavery, under constant armed surveillance and with no possibility of contact with the outside world” (DW, 2025). The victims’ accounts are shocking. According to one of the rescued young people, whose details have been withheld for security reasons, “they took our passports, locked us in a building and told us to work to pay off the travel debt. Anyone who refused was beaten or threatened with weapons”. This is a scheme that combines human trafficking, labor exploitation and cybercrime.

The case exposes serious flaws in migration control, consular protection and the digital recruitment system, which takes advantage of the socioeconomic vulnerability of thousands of young Mozambicans. In a country where youth unemployment exceeds 30%, and where internal prospects for productive inclusion are scarce, promises of “employment abroad” become easy bait. “Forced emigration is not just a security problem; it is the symptom of the failure of development and social inclusion policies” (O País, 2024). The analogy with the Azores helps us understand that, although methods change, the mechanisms of oppression and domination over Mozambican bodies continue to traverse time and geography. The Azores and Ngungunhane’s exile as a metaphor for the submission of pain that is seen today in Laos have historical resonances. While young people continue to disappear from suburban neighborhoods in search of illusory promises of progress, the responsibility of a state that claims to be sovereign but is incapable of protecting its children remains.

2025/12/3