Once Upon A Prostitute

CHAPTER 10 - RUNS-GIRLS

Journal entry
I don't know who I am anymore.

When I was twelve, in my junior secondary class two, a boy snuck a love note in my bag. While I was showing it to Miriam, Idara the class bully snatched it and read it to the entire class. I’ve never felt so embarrassed in my life. I remember how many people laughed and some called me a bad girl for having a boyfriend at such a young age. He wasn't my boyfriend, just a crush who happened to be crushing on me too. But after that day, I was so ashamed I hardly looked at him again and I stayed away from all boys. It took a while for students to stop referring to me as badgirl. But no one cared if the boy was a bad boy. Talk about double standards.

I used to think that was the most humiliating day of my life, until the parade at the ring topped it. I'm beginning to understand that there are different levels of humiliation. It feels like being rejected tops the list. It's worse because I know I brought it upon myself. It's easier to rise above humiliation caused by others. Even in the ring I somehow found a way to stay strong. Even when I was stripped and paraded that first night, I didn’t feel this humiliated. The idea that the happenings around me was not my choice gave me the strength to retain some of my dignity, to fight back on the inside.

But this is different. This was caused by my own actions, and it seemed my inner voice of consolation had run away. It's not just the shame I’m contending with now. There's also the self-loathing, and I know I deserve it.

Why did I not just talk to Eve like I said I would. What on earth possessed me to act like the very person I was running away from. Why did I have to throw myself at him like a merchandise on display? He will always look at me with disdain now. The poor black girl who was so eager to sell her body for a crappy caravan. 

Is this who I really am?

Candy, a senior girl in the ring once told us that after a while, she stopped thinking about getting out. She said that at some point, you just accept yourself for who you are, either consciously or unconsciously. It had sounded like latin in my ears. How could someone ever get used to being a runs-girl, a prostitute?

Madam pepper used to tell us most times when she came around. ‘If you like you run to the end of the world, you’re still a prostitute. Once a prostitute, always a prostitute.’ She said even after we buy back our freedom, we would still be selling ourselves for money, because it will never be enough.

I refused to believe that. She spoke with so much arrogance and conviction and we meekly said ‘yes Ma’ but I refused to believe it.

But what if she was right? What if I had been turned before I got out?

Unable to bear my deprecating thoughts anymore, I put on my jacket and decided to go for a walk. The sun was just starting to rise, and the town was still very quiet. It was a Sunday morning, so there was not much activity yet. I had barely slept all night laden with thoughts of regret and self-hatred. Why do I always make the worst decisions? No wonder Papa and Tekena treated me like a baby and watched me like a hawk back in Nigeria. I just can’t do anything right. I walked with nowhere in mind, dragging my heavy feet till I found a lake. It was not too far from the road but was obscured by a lot of trees. I sat on the ground close to the bank, on a protruding root of a big tree and stared at the water. It was calm and peaceful, so peaceful that I became envious. So I threw some pebbles into it. I can’t be the only one with troubled soul.

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Runs-girls!