Once Upon A Prostitute

CHAPTER 8 - PHOENIX

Journal entry
I still believe I can rise.

One week! One week and a couple of days till I vacate this caravan. I'm growing sick with worry. I had gone to check out the motel a few days ago. It is too far from the heart of town, and if I am being practical, I do not see myself walking that distance. I will have to take a 10-minute bus ride to and from work every day which means extra transportation expenses in addition to accommodation costs. Eve increased my salary to $200 a week, thanks to my awesome singing, and I have been getting more tips of recent. But I am saving up for a phone, at least a cheap one. I desperately needed to contact some people. I would probably have managed the motel if it was only the distance, but it looks quite run-down and unkept that I imagine bedbugs live in the mattresses and cockroaches breed in the rooms. I may not be rich but, I like clean places. The other options were the hotel or an apartment, and I we know I can't afford that.

Damn the Crenshaws! Just when I thought I could catch my breath. I exhale and wiggle my fingers trying to calm my worried nerves as I walk down the halls of Twinhills High. We arrived early today so I figured I should say hi to Mr. Obi before lunch hour. I'm looking at the signage on doors as I walk. The lady I asked at the front desk told me to take my second right, and then my first left...and then...aha! Found it.

GUIDANCE AND COUNSELLING.

I gently tap on the door and a loud voice calls for me to come in. I turn the knob and enter the office. It's not small but it looks cramped. There's a large bookshelf burdened with numerous books standing by the wall, a grey two-seater sofa by the corner, and an oversize table in the centre. His face lights up when he sees me.

''Ah Mina, so nice to see you''. As usual, his voice is embarrassingly loud, but it is filled with genuine delight. I smile as I step further into the office.

''Hello Mr. Obi'' He gives me a reprimanding look, but I laugh it off. ''Nice office". I say, then notice he does not have a single picture, or plant, or splash of colour anywhere. What a terrible compliment. He waves it off.

''Nah...it's just average. Take a seat.'' He offers. I take one across the desk.

''So, how you dey? (how are you?)'' he says clasping his palms together. He seems extremely pleased to be speaking pidgin.

''I dey fine oh". I smile. "How e dey be for this domain nah?'' (I am fine. How are things going here?)

His brows creased a little ''ughm, well...e dey fine.''

I burst out laughing. ''Your pidgin needs serious work sir. How long have you been here?''

He laughs along. ''About 30 years'', he shrugs. ''I came here with my parents when I was about your age. I was sixteen precisely''.

I nod, taking in the information, then ask, "Why here? Most Nigerian folks will settle in big cities where there are better job opportunities and more Nigerians. This town is just...too quiet.''

''True. At that time, however, the factory was trying to draw in more workers from neighboring towns which were developing at a much faster rate. So, they offered wages that were 20 percent higher, and accommodation. My dad took it and so, we ended up here''

"I see. And you didn't leave after?''

''I got a job at TwinHills High after college. I figured I will leave when I got something better but look at me now...still here'' he says stretching out his arms wide. I chuckle and he continues. ''Must be something about the town too. I kind of fell more in love with it as the years went by. Yes, it's quiet but also peaceful, you know. And my wife was also not keen on leaving so...''