Ukiona mwanaume, pole hizi ma-mbwa, ujue anataka kukutomba. Either akutombe coomer ama mkoondu, ama atombe time yako, pesa yako ama life tu yako.
Lakini lazima akutombe.
This statement was uttered by someone who knew men and it took me a long while to know how right it was.
When you are in what people from Central call ‘a thin place’, there are one of two people who come along. Either an angel or a devil. Often, you can’t tell the two apart. In my case, it was Carol. I hear bad stories from people about that name but to me she was an angel.
She was about 25, light skinned and beautiful, at least the makeup made her appear so. She was dressed in cheap, provocative clothes I would not have dreamed of wearing and had the confidence of one hundred men. Her knowing eyes saw everything, including the country chicken standing there, ready to be plucked.
‘Sasa mrembo, kwani umepotea ?’, she addressed me with a disarming smile.
Nimehepa kwetu.
I naively confessed and she looked concerned. She offered to buy me chips and I immediately felt I could trust her. As we ate, I told her everything and she was angry and empathetic at exactly the right time. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to meet her.
After a while, she told me to accompany her to work. I obediently followed her to a potholed street and up a flight of stairs into a place called Fameland. I thought she worked as a waitress but after having a word with the bouncers, we sat at the counter. She ordered a large Guiness for herself and a soda for me. I looked around and thought - Wow, a club full of women drinking freely without being harassed by those vile dogs called men.
After a few moments, I noticed a few men quietly walk in and distribute themselves among the tables. One eventually came over and talked to Carol. After a brief discussion, she told me to look after her handbag and left with him. She came back after an hour and put some notes in her bag.
Suddenly, it hit me ! We were in a bar, and these were prostitutes. Duh. I felt so naive and street-dumb.
Yaani Carol, hapa mnauza hiyo kitu ?
She laughed loudly and confirmed it. I didn’t know whether to run or stay. She assured me it was purely voluntary. I relaxed and even watched her bag three more times. She bought me more sodas and even some smokies. This wasn’t too bad a gig, I thought. But it wasn’t for me.
Eventually, it was five AM and I was tired. Carol still looked alert and when she saw one woman go to the toilet, she pounced on her man and convinced him to go home with her. She held his hand and beckoned me over. We went down the stairs and entered his car. He drove past a place called Fig Tree and parked inside a compound with a maze of extensions and one roomed stone built shacks. Carol opened one door and we found ourselves in a large room with a sofa and bed and a table with a gas cooker.
She threw a blanket at me and told me I would sleep on the sofa while she entered the bed with the man. I lay on the sofa fully clothed and covered my head. I heard mumbling and fumbling and eventually, the bed started creaking rhythmically. Carol moaned and complained how big his manhood was. I won’t lie if I said I didn’t peep. Her legs were spread wide apart and the man’s pararad bum looked tense. Eventually he shook and moaned like a wounded pig and collapsed on top of her. She reached down and I heard the sound of a condom being pulled off and tossed into the bin. Eventually, they started snoring.
I looked round the room in admiration. As someone who had never owned anything, including my own body, I thought Carol had it all. There was a clean carpet on the floor, stylish clothes hanging on a rack, a plethora of makeup and perfume on a table and an expensive looking TV.
Aki huyu msichana, ata kama anauza mwili, anaishi maisha poa sana.
I thought about the two thousand in my pocket and realised that what had taken me years of humiliation to earn, she had made in one hour. And judging from her moans and spread eagled legs, it seems she was enjoying herself while doing it.
I think this life of a prostitute wasn’t too bad.
Even for me.
Ooh poor girl child. Atleast prostitutes can get away with everything and live up to anything… You just minus dignity. Not a bad life for that village chicken though. Tunasemanga nilijipata tu. Alijipata Malaya tu…
Aki BT, your narration is awesome, its like a movie. Do you know all those paces i.e Fameland, Figtree? they are so vividly coming in my head.
Munasumbua
Sasa unataka tuandamane K-street ndio umalizie hekaya?
On point. part three icome…
To be continued…
continue
Endelea, the flow is up there
katambe
Jehova…
Girlchild wanapitia pia
That mother victimized the poor girl for nothing. It should be obvious to any thinking person that an older person having sex with a minor is the one taking advantage of her.
Mama anajaribu kuprotect kitunguu. It happens a lot kwanza these kunguru mothers huingiza their daughters vidole wakiwaosha from the age of 8 by the time wanafika 12, the girl is already sleeping with older men.
Part three ama uketi pare…