Stay Out Of My House

Many men are attracted to girls from the streets because they are free to choose where to spend time with them.Unlike girls in downtown bars and brothels, who insist on having sex in-house in stuffy rooms on tattered mattresses, girls on the streets are more inclined to risk going with a man.

As you wander through the worlds depicted in this anthology, these Kenyans, and

Not that we have much choice. When I get into a car, I usually have no idea where the man will take me. It may sound stupid, but it’s a foolishness I charge a premium for. A man may consider such factors as cost, privacy and convenience in determining the destination.

Men don’t say where they are taking me until I ask. Their assumption may be that a girl on the street will go anywhere. Perhaps they also fear the girl will change her mind if told the destination. True, there are places that would make a girl uncomfortable.

For instance, going near a neighbourhood where she stole from a client. Or to a hotel where she was shortchanged, created a scene or embarrassed the establishment.

There are also men who love going to a prostitute’s house. This is perhaps because of the way prostitutes are portrayed in movies; they are often shown as husky-voiced, cigarette-smoking women who live in dim candlelit rooms, with erotica hanging on the wall next to the bed. The truth is girls here don’t live that way.

Most of the girls downtown live in congested neighbourhoods, just a notch above slums. If you asked a girl at Sabina Joy, a local pub, where she comes from the answer would be Kayole, Githurai, Huruma, Mwiki, Mathare North or Mlango Kubwa. Or maybe Gachie or Wangige.

Few girls, if any, admit to living in the slums. To some extent, it’s an ego thing, but it’s also because they fear the effect this information might have on their business given the stereotyping of prostitutes and slum residents as thieves. Men will assume that a prostitute from the slums is dirty but also treacherous.

Here on the street, it’s a different story. Few girls admit to living in the estates where the brothel girls live. To do so would erode the slight decency expected of girls on the streets. However, some of my colleagues live in such estates, even in slums. Though such low-income places may offer convenience in terms of cost, they are a big inconvenience when it comes to the logistics of business.

Life in such areas is characterized by arbitrary police roundups, known as msako. Woe unto you if you are caught in the msako on your way to work. Besides the msako, there is always a serious risk of bumping into policemen on patrol. Police in such areas have a superiority complex and try to exploit the residents’ perceived inferiority. They are certain to arrest or harass you for no good reason.

Thus if you live in such a place, you might be forced to leave home for work before dark. And if you work here on the street, where business doesn’t pick up till after 10, that is just too much time to kill, time which could have been better spent doing something else, perhaps sleeping.

A smarter plan, which many of us have adopted, is to live near the money. We pick relatively decent places, slightly expensive but with some comfort and peace of mind. After all, if you have to spend the night in the cold, chasing cars and shouting “Honey!”, you should be able to enjoy the fruits of your labour in a calm setting.

So you will find a number of girls living in Pangani, Westlands, Buru Buru, Kariobangi South and Kiambu town. Sometimes, two or three girls will come together and rent a one- or two- bedroom house in an upmarket area. I live in a bedsit in Pangani. It takes about 20 minutes to get to the city centre—and I can leave or arrive home at any time without worrying about security.

I guess none of my neighbours know what I do for a living. Although the watchman may have an idea because of my odd hours, he doesn’t ask any questions. I like it that way. I love the beauty of living a private life. No matter how the night has been, I usually find solace in my house. It is a special place, sacred in its own way.

And for that reason I made a rule to preserve it only for myself and not entertain anyone there. But rules can be broken. The hours between 3.45 am and 5 am are the hardest for prostitutes. If a man hasn’t picked you by then, despair sets in. That does not mean a girl cannot be picked within those hours, she can, but the quality of men who visit the street at that hour is not the best.

Most have been partying all night, are drunk, demanding and hard to negotiate with. The sober ones are likely to have emotional problems and to be rather unpredictable. If there is a serial killer hour, then it’s during this time. Some time ago a man picked me a few minutes after 4 am. He was in a suit, good-looking and sober. He said he only had 1,000 shillings on him, not enough to book a room and pay me.

“Could we go to your house and I give you the whole amount?” he asked. I didn’t think twice. I was financially cornered. I said yes, thinking one man would make no difference. Afterwards, when he was dressed, he said he couldn’t find the money in his pockets—one of the oldest tricks in the book.

“I left the money in my car,” he said. I followed him to the car, which was parked outside the gate. I stood a short distance away. I saw him bend over as if looking for the money under his seat. Then suddenly, the car engine roared and off he drove. I wanted to shout “Thief!” and have him stopped before he got to the main road.

But I held my tongue. If he was stopped, someone would ask: “What has he stolen?” Never again have I serviced a customer in my house. And I never will.