One might think that a prostitute is tough, selfish and self-serving, a person who can do without friends. She can’t. Everyone needs a friend. That one person they can open their heart to. We too need friends because there are some low moments here. You know the feeling of boredom, fatigue and the need for a slight push to go back to work. Only a true friend can give that nudge.

Here on the Street, possibly like everywhere else in Nairobi, true friends are hard to come by. Thus, rather than stressing, looking for the ideal friend who is everything, one learns to look for a variety of friends, who possess the elements they are looking for. This allows you to take advantage of their strengths and form relationships based on that.

Prior to understanding the dynamics of “street friendships”, I was frustrated by the passive nature of relationships with other girls I considered close pals. One day I shared my feelings with a girl, only to hear her talk behind my back the next day. Then a few days later when I am in problems with the council askari, she comes to my rescue. To avoid such contradictions, I now classify my friends on the basis of their abilities, and call upon them as need be.

The most basic motivation for friendship on the Street has to do with self preservation at work. You need someone who will cover your back during a street fight or tussle with a man. This kind of friend should only be able to do exactly that and not necessarily anything else. It would be asking too much of Cheupe, who is my friend of this kind, to help do the street fights and still nurse my feelings. Her loud mouth is just fit for the Street and not for comforting or keeping a secret.

One also needs friends who understand the authorities. When arrested by the council or police, you need the girl who will know how to sweet-talk them. Or one who can organize for your rescue, for example, by paying fines in court. For this, I have Miriam. She is fast and seems to enjoy her rescue role. Then there is the classical girlfriend who I pour my heart to. Naomi does this best. She will always listen and have a word of comfort. Yet in times of fight, she is nowhere to be found.

Though these friends may be committed to me, I am not obliged to be equally dedicated to them. If Cheupe is in a fight, I don’t have to go to her aid. And she won’t feel nasty about it. Also, because I am not so smooth with the cops, Miriam will not expect me to go to her rescue. Perhaps this lack of reciprocity makes our friendships here very fragile. Every day there are verbal and cold fights between girls who were previously best friends. I have not been spared either.

One of my closest of friends for a couple of months was a girl everyone called Puri. She was aloof, but, strangely, we formed an interesting bond. We covered each other’s backs, bailed each other out and shared our feelings. We also visited each other’s homes, which is something many girls don’t approve of.

Yet our friendship snapped like a slender stick. One night, three of us crowded a vehicle trying to win the same man. In the heat of the moment, I alluded to the fact that my body was bigger and better as compared to that of Puri’s. The man picked neither of us, but since then, Puri has never talked to me. I have not said anything to her either. That was four months ago.