It was a weird ghetto. A ghetto where perfectly normal people lubricated their eyes and acted blind. A ghetto where abled bodied men and women perfected acts to make themselves dumb. A ghetto where intelligent brains worked to manipulate and dupe all for money. A ghetto where everyone learns to respect the sins of each other. It was easier to hear flying words; “Ei Ashawo! Keep it down whores!” and its counter attack “We hear you thief! Armed robbers! God is watching you!”, a chuckle comes with successor, “Ei! Listen to where the name of God is coming from! Are you sure you are not shameless?” It could go on for forever. 
The dresses that were forced on me were dresses I knew I was defiling, not raping. Thanks to my mother’s language, I knew the difference between defilement and rape. It was almost 10pm. Mimi told me I would have to give her part of every money I made so she could take care of me. I laughed within me. The Adwoa Attaa I was, knew it won’t take long for that deal to blow over. I nodded slightly and set off with her. 

I was surprised with what I saw on reaching the front of the biggest hotels I had ever seen. I realised Sokoo’s hotel was a hen coop. They called it Hotel De Pensky. It was magnificent! I saw hope where there was fear. To my surprise, Mimi told me to look at the line in front of the hotel. So many ladies dressed in like clothes stood there. Throwing themselves in the way of cars which zoomed in and out, calling themselves names. Bitches for witches, prostitutes for whores, “ashawo” for “anadwo yɛdɛ”. It was ridiculous how they insulted themselves for what they were.

“Why can’t we go in?” I impatiently asked.

Mimi laughed the sarcastic laughter which spelled out the fact that I was a novice and a village girl. “You can’t go in because it is the hotel’s policy. You need a man to take you in. In fact, even men bribe their ways to get some of us in there because they love proper dressing. That is why I have a spare. Many get us from here to other hotels or brothels if you like and we find our ways back after. Wait, let me speak to this customer”

With Mimi speaking to a nice looking silhouette in a nice car, I decided to look and listen around. 

“Ei! New Ashawo! Welcome o! Be sure not to follow that car to wherever o! That one be bad news o! Small girl who wan join big train”

I hoped they were not talking about me. Those idiots thought I would be like them, old enough to be mothers of ten, still standing in skimpy clothes trying to gain attention of men. I gave them a “think about yourself” look and looked away. Some clapped and laughed in their surprise at my behaviour, others just looked away. One lady nearly pounced on me but another restrained her. Mimi came back and pushed me into the car. I was sent to the front seat as she took the back. I realised another man was seated at the back. 

“More like it” I thought to myself. To be the owners own instead of the lifted. The introduction was short.

“This is Bee Davids, and Bee, that is Mojo. He will be your client for the night.” I had forgotten about the name change. Mimi had mentioned that even names contributed to the sex appeal. So telling everyone my name was Adwoa Attaa Anobeng would kill my career in the business before it began. I kept mute, knowing I would have to spill the beans after he asked for my hand in marriage. I had made up my mind to wait until I was almost eighteen to take him to see father. Four more years to go.

Unbeknownst to me, there was a bomb waiting to blast my stone quarry. The room was neat although the bathroom was a stinking mess. It was called Hotel Waawaa for a reason. People paid for the hours they spent there with their questionable companions. Mojo asked me to go and wash my garden and make it ready for plantation. I had washed before coming out but I complied. When I re-entered the room, I realized what a stout person he was. I was previously lost in my thoughts so I looked and I did not believe the timber that greeted my eyes. I nearly took to my heels but for the voice which reminded me of my need to succeed. I knew immediately that he would not be the best choice for a husband. Even in its harmattan season, his tree laid in the middle of his junction like a fallen timber blocking the biggest road in the world. If fear could heat a being, I would have turned burnt “chinchinga” on the stick of his fear then.

Mojo asked me to come and suck his little man. I didn’t know what to do. All the men I had known before never asked of this. Stories of women being used for rituals flooded my mind. I had to ask him why his huge manhood must enter my mouth. His cocky laughter made me cringe. “Ei! I know why I love the green horns. It is fun to teach them new things and deduct it from their wages.” He asked me to suck so he could wake to start on our deal. I didn’t know what to do. Before I could decide, he held my wig and shoved himself into my mouth, bringing me to the kneeling position. Even my mouth threatened to crack. When the monster started waking, I had to find ways of getting it out of my mouth. He then threw me on the bed, pinched my breast like a livid soldier ant and rammed his mountain into me. The shout that came out of me, surprised even me. And his hand which blocked my mouth could do nothing to stop its piercing. I had never known that much pain could exist. 

Stroke after stroke I cried but no one came to my rescue. “Let’s tone it down girl! You know you are not the only one in heaven or hell here” A voice called from beneath. After shouting and crying myself hoarse, I laid there as he continued. I had never once thought anyone could stroke for more than two hours. I must have passed out for a while, when I opened my eyes, I thought I heard a lion roar. Then I realized it was Mojo in orgasm. Even that terrified me. He had destroyed my goldmine. Who would ever feel loved working in it? Who would want to own something so destroyed? Who?

 He threw three cedis on the bed, dressed up and left. I made to move but could not bring myself to. I was paralysed from waist down. My tears might have drowned the mattress. An hour or so later, Mimi rushed into the room, saw me still nude with Mojo’s caked “porridge” on my whole body and pitied me. “That savage! I told him to go easy on you!” she cleaned me up, used a cloth she had to cover me and managed to put me on her back, all the while asking me to control myself. She gave me some painkillers and took me to our base in a hired taxi. There, she called Mojo to be sure to give the extra 17 cedis. To her, that was the minimal charge; 20 cedis where Mojo was concerned.

I could not walk for two weeks. Mimi was good to me during those times. She fed and tended to me and assured me that I could rebuild my goldmine with alum water and many other medications. All I had to do was wash it with it after sitting on hot water. She left for work at night and I battled with mosquitoes all alone. I regretted sincerely for not listening to my parents. The fear of Mojo was diminishing. I knew I would never do him again. I regretted not paying heed to what the women were saying. I resolved to make friends with them when I resumed work. Every night, I would tell myself “tomorrow is another day”.

By: Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia

Photo Credit: Google Pics

Chapter 3 will be posted on Thursday, 26/10/2017.

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