Archives
Subject: AFRICA DIARY 6: SAHOOLY AND A BETTER CLASS OF BROTHEL
Time: 1:22:00 PM EST
Author: ajuddinafrica
Not far from the rice tents, on a larger, boulevard style corner, a group of older, more seasoned sex workers welcomed me. There was little traffic and they were happy and curious to chat with me, and we stood about shooting the breeze. There was a palpable simpatico amongst them and that some have worked for 15 years on this corner explains why: they have history. I would love to tell you about each of them, the older, a very thin one with blood shot eyes who smiled a bit like a toothless granny, the one with cropped hair (good personal hygiene choice given lack of regular bathing) with the rose bloom on her cheeks, the freckled, somber and 6 months pregnant Veronica, etc. But in the interest of time I have to play favorites, as much as I hate to, so I will tell you in detail only about the new love of my life, our peer educator and shining star of the streets, Sahooly.
One of the many great things about Sahooly is that she has been empowered to do reproductive health and HIV prevention education amongst CSW’s by herself, and Dr. Rene has worked hard to give that sense of self assurance and authority. Until now, peer education was run by Dr. Rene with CSW’s working alongside him, but now they can work the nooks and crannies of the streets and slums alone, reaching more vulnerable people in high risk groups than Dr. Rene alone can. We pay her a small salary, as we do all peer educators, but it is not, alas, enough to allow her to reduce the required number of 7 clients per night to feed her family and make ends (barely) meet.
Sahooly invited me to her home. I was having a “bad” day, crying uncontrollably during our short lunch break (thinking about baby Patrick’s likely life) and it was only the sweetness of her offer that motivated me to peel myself by the ponytail off the mattress (I had gone full fetal). I tried to dress, hardly able to see myself in the mirror for the tears, and played the outfit game, trying to choose something I thought she’d like.
Her home is two very small rooms, dirty through no fault of her own, as the courtyard she shares with 40 others is unpaved red, raw dirt that tracks unrelentingly. Her water source is a spigot not too far away, and she uses our Sur Eau water purification for everything to prevent diarrheal disease in her whole family. She has a suite of wooden furniture with no cushions and we sat directly on the slats. Her girls sang a few songs for us, and we chatted about this and that. I tried to help out the family dog, who was held on far too short a tether, by giving the kids some tips as to why they think he is mean when in fact he was terribly submissive and loving with me. The family cat, whom I was able to hold for a bit, is sorely thin. It’s understandable we were not offered anything to drink or eat.
We walked through the noisy neighborhood to her bus stop, and with knees pulled up like American school kids, she spoke more openly of her work. Although she’s been a CSW for 10 years, her children have no idea what she does. Each night she rides this bus to her corner, and aims for 7 clients, sometimes finishing in time to catch the 9 PM home but more often stranded in town until service resumes at 4 AM. Once home, she sleeps for a few hours, then does her day job: mother of 3,wife of 18 years.
*
Morya and I had an extraordinary opportunity with Sahooly, and we seized it. We took her to our hotel room and bathed and fed her. She’d never taken a bath before, and as we explained and ran it for her, we were so pleased, only to be surprised when she popped back out into the living room, like, 48 seconds later. We hadn’t explained well enough. Relax, we said. Submerge your head underwater and let it all go. Fall asleep if you like. We ran the bath again after I cleaned the tub (her first dip, however brief, testified to her lack of running water at home), and gave her bottle of beer. We didn’t see her for a long while, and while I took my 2nd of 3 daily showers I thought of her down the hall, doing the same thing, united by this simple act and separated by so much.
We ordered off the room service menu and she left not a trace on her 3 plates. I scooted the bread and butter towards her, which she also ate. But more telling, far more telling, was that I happened to look her way as she figured out the napkin thing, and took hers off the table and put it in her lap. I saw the learning in her eyes, and the change in her demeanor (pride is so beautiful), and shining star Sahooly became what she truly is, a woman of stunning potential. Her hair was wet and lain in ringlets past her shoulders, and sitting there gorgeous, and clean, in her bathrobe.
*
Sahooly took us after dark to a peer education session at the brothel hotel where her neighborhood of CSW’s and their client’s often rent rooms. The hotel was actually clean, bare of furniture save the essential bed, but not that far off something I would have settled for as a backpacking college student. There were even boys on staff to change sheets and a place for the CSW’s to wash themselves between customers. Outside a long line of CSW’s were ready to discuss HIV and their reproductive health, and in minutes it was like a coffee klatch ,totally female, everyone sitting on the floor, chatting animatedly, interrupting, talking over one another, answering questions before Sahooly or Dr. Rene had a chance to, leaning on each other like puppies. They’ve learned a lot, but still have a lot of questions, including HIV risks to pregnant women, and this topic in particular allowed me to organically do something I craved but knew had to handle with perfect delicacy or I’d blow it: being tested.
Veronica, the 6 months pregnant CSW, was my entrée. Moyra, a mother of 2, pointed out how clear it was she was extremely concerned that she might be HIV positive, and that she was asking sorrowful questions about the baby. Dr. Rene and I talked about mother-to-child transmission, and how critical itis to know your status, and also about syphilis, which causes birth defects, and I pounced: Why don’t you and I go to the public health clinic tomorrow to be tested? She said yes. On a roll, I asked others. 5 said they would. I couldn’t believe it. As I sat there trying so hard not to do roar with joy, they bickered amongst themselves about the time, and finally settled on 3 p.m., plenty of time to grab a little sleep after a night’s work and tend to the kids. Our group dispersed into the night, and my satisfaction melted into worry about attrition, and who would blow it off and out of fear not show up.
More in my next entry about getting tested and who joined me....
Written by ajuddinafrica Blog about this entry |
Add to del.icio.us | 
digg this
-
That you were able to give Sahooly the gifts of a bath and a meal...that which I take for granted each and every day, brought tears. Simple acts create miracles. ~Dona
The work of an individual still remains the spark that moves mankind forward. -Igor Sikorsky -
Thank you so very much for your writtings Ms. Judd. You have opened my eyes to more than you could ever imagine. While I wait with anticipation for your entries, I am also fearful of them. Fearful of what you have seen and done. I cannot imagine what you go through everyday, over there. The spectrum of emotions you must go through, the anger, the pain. While all of what you have written about, saddens me, it also imspires me. Inspires me to do better and to help whenever I can. Thank you for that....
Meredith
http://journals.aol.com/mereajen/PurpleMonkeesandFlyingAvoc ados/ -
God bless your work.
V -
Ashley,
Thank you again for this journal. It is so touching and inspiring yet so sad at the same time. I enjoy reading your thoughts please keep them coming. Wishing you much luck for the rest of your trip.
2/15/05 12:37 AM