The night time has its personal scent. It’s a mixture of exhaust fumes, roasted meat and cigarette smoke. By the point I stand on my nook, the neon mild from the beer parlour throughout the highway has began to flicker prefer it’s drained too.
I transfer my bag from one shoulder to the opposite, watching automobiles decelerate and velocity off once more. Folks see me and hiss, however they don’t know the starvation that drives a girl out at this hour. They’ve by no means tasted desperation. They have no idea the mouths we’ve got to feed.
“I get pikin wey dey wait me for home,” I remind myself. My son is six. He sleeps in a room I pay for with this physique. That’s the reason I’m right here.
Nevertheless it wasn’t all the time like this.
From Ogun state to Lagos streets
I grew up in a small city in Ogun State. My father was a taxi driver. He died once I was nineteen. In a single day, my mom grew to become a widow with money owed, and I grew to become the firstborn everybody regarded to.
I left college and began braiding hair to help my mom financially. She raised us with sweat and blood. Nevertheless it stopped being sufficient when gross sales dropped and the owner doubled the hire.
By then, I used to be already in a relationship with a person I assumed would marry me. He used to return to the salon, all the time smiling, promising to “deal with me.” Once I bought pregnant and instructed him. He vanished. I later noticed marriage ceremony photos of him and one other lady on Fb. My fingers shook so exhausting I may barely maintain my cellphone.
I cry tire that day. He depart me with belle, go marry one other particular person. Males are scum!
An additional mouth to feed
When my son was born, it was simply me and my mom once more. No child garments from him, no hospital go to, nothing. The one factor he left me with was accountability.
At first, I attempted to manage. Throughout the day, I ran my mom’s provision store. Generally, I did individuals’s hair of their houses. However the cash by no means stretched far sufficient. There was nobody to ship me cash. I did all of it myself till I could not take it anymore.
At some point, a buddy instructed me about ladies who do “hooks” on the mainland and the way a lot they make. I refused at first. However starvation has a approach of adjusting your morals.
The primary night time I attempted, my fingers have been shaking. I stood on the roadside pretending to be ready for somebody, praying no one I knew would cross. When a automotive stopped by, my coronary heart jumped out of my chest.
My palms sweated regardless that the air was cool, and my voice cracked once I mentioned my value. My knees felt weak as I climbed into the automotive, thoughts racing with all of the warnings I had heard. I needed to run, however I additionally knew there was no turning again. That was the night time I crossed a line I had sworn I by no means would.
Thus, my life was break up into two.
Daytime shopkeeper, nighttime hook-up woman
Now it’s routine. When males cease, the dialog begins with cash. Generally they wind down slowly, pretending they’re simply asking for path. Different occasions, they roll it down quick, the scent of cigarettes usually dashing out.
Once they ask my value, I inform them 100k. Some agree, others attempt to negotiate 50k, 40k, and even 10k. If the cash no attain, I transfer. I’ve discovered to not beg. Begging brings disrespect.
However even when the cash is true, the worry of getting intimate with a stranger sits in my chest. It’s tough. The thought that tonight I may find yourself with a person who could be imply, violent, or a thief, sends shivers down my backbone. However what alternative do I’ve?
Condoms, HIV, Agbo?
The very best I can do is keep protected. Condoms are non-negotiable for me. I all the time inform those that insist on going uncooked, “You’re not my boyfriend, so why gained’t you wish to use a condom?” Some males attempt to add cash to persuade me to drop it, however I gained’t.
One night time, a shopper refused to make use of a condom. He tried to pressure himself on me, shouting that he had already paid. I fought him off and screamed.
One other night time, the condom broke halfway, and I didn’t know. Once I discovered, I sat within the lavatory shaking, fearful of what this might imply. I do know the chance of contracting STDs and STIs is excessive, however what scares me essentially the most is HIV.
After nights like that, I take my very own measures. I don’t like hospitals, so I get “agbo” (natural combination) from native sellers, no matter will make me really feel protected. I do know some ladies who caught HIV this manner. I don’t wish to be subsequent.
Officer abeg na…
Sadly, it’s not solely ailments I’ve to fret about. Generally it’s violence. I’ve been slapped, dragged from a automotive, and robbed. As soon as, police raided our spot, shoving us right into a van, calling us names.
They arrest us, insult us, and nonetheless acquire our cash. At these moments, I bear in mind my son’s face and marvel if I’ll ever make it residence. My mom doesn’t know the total fact. She simply is aware of that I “do night time jobs.” I see the questions in her eyes, however she doesn’t ask.
Ashawo na work
Society doesn’t deal with us kindly. Folks shout, “Shey your mama know say you dey exterior?”, laughing prefer it’s a joke. They insult us, mock us, spit phrases that reduce. I’ve gotten used to it as a result of I’ve no alternative. I have to become profitable.
A few of the males who insult us in public are the identical ones who sneak right here at night time. Dem go name you ‘ashewo’ however na dem dey discover you cross. How does that even work? Hypocrites!
Folks shouldn’t be humiliated for attempting to outlive.
Generally, when a automotive pulls over and the person leans out to haggle, I think about him at residence together with his spouse. The double lifetime of Nigerian males is an open secret we stay with.
Within the mornings, after the night time’s work, I sit in my store, promoting recharge playing cards and biscuits. Folks greet me, pondering that’s all I do. They don’t know the night time model of me. They don’t know the woman who wears her wig and walks into darkness to pay for daylight.
E go beta…
I dey pray make God give me higher work. I wish to cease this. I need to have the ability to inform my son, “Mama labored exhausting, and we’re effective.” Possibly sooner or later I will not need to placed on brief skirts and stroll the streets to feed him.
At some point.
