Fate has a way of telling us to try amidst all adversities to show justifications and or otherwise for our ways of life. I believed then that calling was nigh so I told Ms. Barwuah that I had some money to invest so needed some ideas. She introduced me to a fabric dealer in Cape Coast who always travelled to Togo for her fabrics and seemed to be quite comfortable. Her name was Aba Quaicoo. Ntwanu was happy and fully supportive of the idea.
On our way to Togo, I saw so many beautiful places, some dry lands with poverty written all over them, some fertile lands begging to be touched and some developed places too. What caught my attention however was the policemen at the various barriers. They meticulously searched every person and his or her luggage and particulars. I thought they were supposed to prosecute offenders but they had fixed amounts these offenders without their “Yellow Cards” or passports paid to go scot free. I thought of how dangerous their acts was. Supposing some of those caught were armed robbers or terrorists, what would be the fate of this country? No one had the audacity to challenge them, lest, even passengers became word police to thrash them with words they never knew could hurt. I saw the way the officers eyed beautiful women among passengers. I just observed like an interested cat, trying to look uninterested. I was dressed like a decent Muslim, even my hair was covered so as not to attract attention.
When we finally reached our destination, I was shocked at the prices of fabrics. With just fifty cedis, I could buy cloth that could make me two hundred and fifty cedis worth of profit. I kept buying and buying until Aunt Aba told me to stop because there were duty charges on our way back. Duty charges? Well, I decided to follow her instructions and shut up.
The vehicles that transported our goods were funny looking. They had so many hidden compartments that drivers unscrewed to hide some of our goods at a fee. I was told that was way cheaper than paying duty at the barriers on those extra. Though the officers knew every trick traders used to get their goods into Ghana for free, they chose to let go once they were bribed satisfactorily. Aunt Aba went on to tell me how some traders put on eight cloths, six jeans trousers and hide jewelleries in their private parts just to avoid paying duty charges for them. Some simply used bush roads to avoid payment completely. But the bush roads were filled with robbers who mercilessly raped, molested or killed traders, maimed or killed drivers, just to steal their goods. It was terrifying listening to all the hazards, so I just asked that we left.
The cars which carried several goods were parked in a cue waiting for inspection and payment before entry into Ghana. It was interesting how many men stood by pleading with officers who were unsympathetic toward their plight, at the same time, some women entered the officer’s office after inspection only to come back energetic with pleasure perspiration all over their bodies. Aunt Aba went before me. After thirty minutes in the officer’s office, she came back wiping her sweat and breathing faster than a hundred metre runner. I was disappointed because she wore two rings and never took them off. A part of me told me my mind was playing tricks on me, another maintained she used herself to avoid paying duty on her fabrics, but I was not in the place to judge so shut up.
“Do as you are told Adwoa so we can go early. I am waiting for you”
With that, she ushered me into the officer’s office before I had time to ask a question. There were over twenty men there. An elderly man of about 40 years of age called my name and asked me to follow him. Apparently, there were empty rooms individuals were sent to process their documents.
“I am in charge of your goods Miss, how would your mode of payment be? As it stands now, you are to pay 13, 000 cedis.”
I couldn’t hide my shock so I exclaimed:
“Ei! How much did I buy the fabrics? With transportation, it cost only around 3000 cedis.”
“You know you can pay in another way? All you need to do is to comply and I will make you pay only 500 cedis.”
Inspector Atsuvi gently stroked my cheeks, swiftly kissed my lips, made his fingers travel down my spine, down to touch my clothed clitoris. I shook with need. Somehow, I wanted to resist but didn’t have the money to pay. I just didn’t get why sex appeared as the perfect currency even in legitimate businesses. I didn’t do anything to provoke it, my dress could not attract anyone, well, that is what I thought. Before I could have time to think about it, my skirt was off, my blouse was travelling fast out through my head. I, like an obedient child lifted my hands for the smooth removal. My nipples stood at attention in my see through brazier, my veins told me I needed the man more than he needed me.
“Part your legs”
I obeyed and put one leg on the table close by, it was then I realized I was without panties. Atsuvi went in between my thighs, sucked the dripping juices out of my vagina until I shook like an epileptic. He fingered me after, moaning with pleasure. He bended me over and entered without warning. Gosh! It was a big one judging by the way it kept swelling within me. I enjoyed it until I realized it was taking him too long to ejaculate. I had turned three times, doggied twice, sideways twice in close to an hour, yet he went on stroking and stroking. His penetrations becoming my pain. To think that even most of those who paid to have me as their prostitutes never used me as he did, filled me with anger. I pushed him off me, cleaned his dick with my panties, played with his tip in between my teeth, and put my middle finger into his anus. Just before I could count to ten, he shouted loudly and came all over the place and on me. Before we could recover, three officers entered the room, saw us and quickly, arrested Atsuvi.
They were officers of higher rank than Atsuvi. Atsuvi, had apparently, just returned from a three months suspension for sleeping with someone in exchange for a free pass. He kept pleading, saying I was skilled at sex so they should test me. True to his words, the three officers pushed me into a shower I had not known existed at the far right corner of the room, brought me out and started working on me. One sucked my breast, the other fingered my already sore vagina, the other planted kisses on my back. I tried to accommodate them but it wasn’t easy. One lied down and placed me on his manhood as the one on my breast went to stand behind me. The one who fingered me, held my breasts as I controlled the stroking on top of the annoying man who lay like a log with his short but huge stick hard and needy. What unnerved me was a sharp pain in my anus. I realized then that the one at my back had forcefully penetrated my anus. I cried out, made to get up but was held down by the one who was on my breast as the back stander pounded my rear without mercy. I felt sad and terrible all at once. With all my experience in prostitution, I had never had anal sex ever. To think that back virginity was broken because I was trying to do something good was beyond me. I cried and cried until many officers flooded the room. The hands that tried to close my mouth achieved nothing. The officers, obviously of lower ranks stood stupified, not knowing what to do or how to approach their supervisors. A shout sent all of them back. I collapsed from exhaustion.
I woke up on a hospital bed at the Korlebu Hospital. I had stitches in my anus because I heard it was nearly destroyed by the anal sex. Aunt Aba apologised to me and asked that I made no case out of it. To her, my things were not charged at all and she had sent all of them to Kumasi. She had also sent for Ms. Barwuah to come and take care of me. I just asked for my phone, called Mimi and asked her politely to take her leave. After, I called Ms. Barwuah and asked her not to bother as Mimi was on her way. When Mimi arrived, she just cried at how lean I had become in just three days. I told her everything and she felt so sorry for me.
“You need to stick to our prostitution Bee. No matter where you go, men use sex to define every woman, they use sex to push us up or down, they use sex to determine our fate, they use sex to humiliate us, they define us with sex Bee, and claim sex is a man’s win. So why can’t we manipulate it to become their loss? It is good you are realizing that it is better to give it up for a fee than to give it up for free. You need to go through hell to sell those fabrics but you have paid dearly for it. Sorry darling”.
It dawned on me that she was right. I was born because of sex, I left home because of sex, I had felt immensely happy because of sex and all the pain I had felt were because of sex. I just wished there was an earth without sex, but then wondered what could be the force of conflict which would pivot the interest of living.
I didn’t know what I felt towards Ntwanu. I knew he was not to blame for my plight but could not pick his calls for reasons I could not explain. I avoided him until he surfaced a week later at the hospital. I just told him I was molested by an officer without telling him details. He apologized and asked me to stay home, promising to take care of all my needs. I knew he had the capacity to, but just didn’t know if I would feel okay depending on a man whom I had not even thought of marrying. I loved him but just felt odd thinking about his suggestions. I smiled at him and allowed him to hold my hands until the doctor discharged me that very day. Ntwanu had a way to make me melt. He just starred at me like I was the only thing worthy of note in the whole wide world. For a moment, I forgot all that I had been through on our way back. I just basked in his looks and enjoyed his adoration from Accra to Kumasi hoping the days ahead held better living for me.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 2017
Photo Credit: Google Pics