Can this be true? I met a prostitute who started since 1995

What PHCN made me do…

By Samod Biobaku

Sixthsense34@yahoo.com

Like most mortals, I had retired for the night sometime past midnight and had hoped to get some sleep before the break of dawn.

All of a sudden, I shot up from the bed like a cat suddenly sighting a rabid dog and despite the fact that my eyes were wide open; I could not see a thing. Not that I was blind but the functionality of my brain suddenly registered the fact that the Power Holding Company of Nigeria (PHCN – formerly NEPA) had as usual, done the opposite of what they were established to do.

However, rather than sleep, my mind remained awake all through as I lay on the bed; constantly drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The fact that there was no supply of electricity did not bother me as most Nigerians have over the years developed a thick skin to the tragedy that PHCN has since become.

Rather, what bothered was the fact that the power generating set had chosen to develop a technical fault on a day when I had decided to sleep.

In all honesty, sleep and I are not best of friends and the most predominant reason for this being the fact that I enjoy working under the silence, tranquility and inspiring duration of the day when most Nigerians ought to be asleep.

So, back to the subject matter - As a result of the absence of electricity, my body simply refused to process the lulling notes of sleep that my mind constantly sent across.

At this point, I felt incredibly thirsty and quickly gulped precisely 50cl of nature’s fluid; water.

This was when I began to sweat. I looked at my wrist watch, which was still strapped onto my wrist and it was about 15 minutes before 4am.

I knew there was no way I was going back to sleep. Despite the fact that my body required the rest, I knew deep within me that I was never going to subject myself to another two to three hours of sweating in bed. When a man wants to sweat, he put on his jogging kit and hits the road and not lay in bed sweating.

As if I had planned it before, I picked up my torch, stepped into the showers and splashed water on my upper body, dried it up, picked up my ID, my Blackberry phones, my PSP, a newspaper, a black T-shirt, a pair of black leather slippers, about N1, 000 and the keys to my room. As I stepped out of the room, I locked the door behind me and began walking towards the gate of the house where I reside.

As I stepped into the estate, I was greeted by the familiar silence and cool air of the early hours of the morning.

I once used to jog 10 laps around the estate every morning at 4:30am but was discouraged about 3 months into it when I literally ran into a huge dog that had been left unchained (well, that’s a story for another day).

Back to the tale, I walked all the way to the gate and as I was on the verge of of stepping out, I knew I had a number of options on what I was going to do.

I could just walk through the quiet and dark streets of Ikeja, walk into a nearby bar, engage a commercial sex worker in an idle chat or just let my heart direct me. I ended up with the last option and then I began to walk down Toyin Street in Ikeja, Lagos, Nigeria.

I let my mind, eyes and senses take in everything around me and it was amazing how much I could see and feel all around me. I was going to be an observer and so I moved towards a part of Ikeja where I felt I would not get visually bored.

As I moved towards Opebi, I saw about 5 to 6 individuals coiled up in different positions of sleep right there on the street; right on the sidewalk and the irony of my walk almost caught up with me but then, I realized that they had not even noticed my presence or stirred from their sleep in any way and so I marched on.

When I got to the roundabout that links Opebi, Allen and Toyin Street, I decided to tarry a while and that was when I saw a man of God (as he was addressed), a woman and then another man trying to convince a certain elderly man to return to the house. It was hard to fully understand what was going on but the man they were trying to convince to return home clearly had his demons out in the open. The man simply refused to heed their advice and even when I suggested that they force him home, he looked at me and sarcastically asked me if I was the initiator of ideas. When I offered to give them a hand in carrying him and forcing him home, he vowed to strike me right in the face.

Well, I was in no mood to send a 60 to 70-year-old man to the grave with a straight punch so I left them to their problems and moved in the direction of loud music, alcohol, girls and the intoxicating whiff of cigarette and marijuana.

I walked farther down the roundabout and secured a central spot that would afford me a good view of all that was going on.

There, I saw a gathering street brats, young men and some elderly ones; all gathered on their feet, smoking and drinking away. One of them had a dog on leash and constantly kept tormenting a visibly terrified dwarf with the dog.

My location was close to ‘Peka,’ a bar and hotel that has over the years harboured all manner of creatures of the night so it didn’t come as a surprise to find prostitutes, pimps, cops, marijuana, commercial motorcycle (Okada) riders and many others; all in one spot and living in perfect harmony.

I had made up my mind to be a non participant observer and was just going to observe and nothing more and that wasn’t so hard to execute.

There was so much happening in this part of Ikeja – UnGodly and unholy deals were being struck right before my eyes. I saw hordes of men with randy and illegitimate desires in their eyes and girls too - some dashingly pretty and others unforgivably ugly with money, erotic capabilities and detached affection in their eyes.

Of course there were cops and the only word that best describes these kinds of policemen was the word ‘bad.’ Yes! These were bad cops – the kind of policemen who would forcefully have sex with prostitutes yet threaten them with arrests and jail. These kinds of cops openly drank, smoked and puffed all kinds of things and yet, are expected to serve as protection over civilians and uphold he law. For them, it was nothing but brisk business and illegitimate fun. For me, it was just one night of observation but for these policemen, it was just another day of adulterated fun and corrupt work.

When the clock struck 5am, I noticed that quite a number of the girls began getting desperate especially those who were yet to secure clients all through the night till that moment.

As some of them walked past me in the permanent spot I stood, they cast me inviting glances and seductively twisted their waistlines and hips in ways that could stir their pole buried between a man’s legs but I was not here for that. Like I said, I was going to observe and nothing more so after sustaining eye contact with them for a while, I often tore my eyes away to discourage any further interest and plan they might have.

While some were satisfied with just walking past prospective clients and showing off their sexually enticing assets, others went vocal and constantly announced that they were available for ‘short time (sex with them for a specified duration of time without having to spend the entire night or morning with the client).’

There was a particular girl that kept declaring: “Short-time… Short-time… Short-time… Short-time…” The girl in question did this without a care in the world and at a point, she even added: “Even if na N750… Oya o…” I was temporarily dazed by her brazenness and affordability of her erotic services and was truly tempted to approach her and personally ‘dig’ further but like I earlier noted, I was keen on a non-participant observation.

While I watched the girl with growing interest, a group of three girls gathered beside me and began discussing. They did not communicate in English language. Rather, it was a blend of Igbo and Pidgin English. I regretted the fact that I don’t understand Igbo language as it would have afforded a chance to add details of their chat to this article as they scarcely used pidgin but from their chat, I heard one of them say: “She say she don dey do Ashawo (prostitution) since 1995… and then she reverted back to Igbo language. I was hurt by the details I was missing but then after about 5 minutes of chatting, they relocated to another part of the street.

The morning quickly breezed past; perhaps faster than I had anticipated and when the clock struck 5:45am, I knew my observation had come to an end as I had to be back home at 6am for my morning prayers (Subhi).

I arrived back home in good time, said my prayers and memories of my morning walk lingered for a while and then shortly past 6am, electricity was restored by PHCN but just as I was about to get into the heart of this article, PHCN struck again. This time, I was not sweating so I just lay on the bed; face up and stared at the ceiling wondering what next to do…

Well, for those of you wishing and praying that I lose sleep again and walk out of my house at an ungodly hour some other time so I can write and share another experience, I’m glad to say: “May your prayers never be answered…” *Laughing*

To those who sincerely pray that I overcome my periodic sleeplessness and get some good night’s rest, I say a big “THANK YOU!” *wink*