Always

One

Part one
The encounter

One

           I shouldn’t be here but I am. And I don’t mean I shouldn’t be here because I’m about to sleep with my first client and graduate to being a prostitute (not even the high grade kind that get to be referred to as escorts but the kind that is often called whore, malaya if you come from where I come from) but it’s because of how fancy this place is. It smells of richness and glamour. It looks like those perfect blog pictures that Instagram celebrities often post. I can’t believe there is a place like this in my country. Actually I can’t believe that my uncle knows such a wealthy man.
           I can’t believe that someone that is about to make me do what I am about to do can live a life like this, a life that allows him such prestige.
           I knock on the door I was told to come to. I’m shaking but I tell myself to shake it off. I have tears in my eyes threatening to fall, there is a lump on my throat, it is so big I can barely swallow any saliva. But overall I feel very numb. I feel very detached from my body, I hope I stay this way; it’s the only way I can get through tonight.
           The door opens and I know for sure I won’t make it through anything. I read a book once about a girl selling her body. It was a romantic novel so her first customer was gorgeous; someone she would sleep with for free. I would never sleep with this man in a million years. He is older than my uncle and my uncle is in his fifties. He is unbelievably over weight and I can’t even believe the size of his nose. It’s those huge black noses that show nostrils as if they are constantly flaring. The shape of it resembles a fist. He has beady eyes that are turning red as he looks at me.
           I’m frozen in place so he pulls me into his room “Waridi sio?” Waridi, right?
I nod but I can feel the acid rising in my throat. I can’t look at this guy with his clothes on how will I manage to have sex with him? Honestly, as if the events of the day haven’t enlightened me enough to know that my uncle has no love for me this feels like a middle finger right to my face. Way to kick me when I’m down Unc.
           This man, I don’t know what his first name is starts taking off his shirt and Oh no! He has an obscene amount of hair all over his abdomen. I know I wouldn’t view him this way if I wasn’t forced to have sex with him but now that I am, he feels like the ugliest person on earth.
           He starts making his way towards me once his shirt is off, I’m right where he left me standing by the door “Sogea basi, mbona unakua muoga?” Come closer, why are you acting scared?
           I move the other way to avoid his out stretched hand. I sit on the edge of the bed then say the first thing that comes to my mind “Wala,” No “Hamna kitu.” It’s nothing.
           He studies me for a moment and I can tell he sees how terrified I am. For a moment I think he might have pity on me and let me go without doing anything.
           “Ngoja nikaoge wakati-” let me take a bath as “-you’re getting comfortable,”
           According to my uncle, Mr. Mboma has been after me for a while now. He saw me once when he came to do business with my uncle. So he must be selling drugs or selling girls, like my uncle. I’ve always thought he was despicable but he was Mama’s only living relative who could take us in.
I should have known that he would do this to me as soon as Mama’s body hit the ground. I should have run as soon as we had buried her but it’s not like I had anywhere else to run to. Right now, my Uncle and his family are my only living relatives. What good are blood relations if they put you in a situation like this?
“Sawa,” Okay, I tell him because he is staring at me like he expects me to join him in the shower “Nitakusubiria hapa,” I pretend to take off my shoes so he thinks I really am getting comfortable.
He laughs like I just said something funny and then says “Abdul alisema wewe sio mzoefu,” Abdul said that you are not experienced.
Abdul is my Uncle. He’s my nightmare really.
 He forced me to come here so I can earn my keep, so I can earn my mother’s keep. Who cares that he was her brother and the house that he lives in belonged to their father. Who cares that I am his niece and I’ve just lost the only parent I have ever known.
           I refused (of course) when he told me that all I would have to do is sleep with this elderly man who I’d never seen before. But then it turned from being a way to repay my ‘debt’ to a bargain for my life.
           I can feel myself tremble every time I remember it. He was so menacing. I understood then why none of his boys ever stole from him. I understood why everyone was so terrified of him.  
           It was at that moment that my mind finally registered that I was for all intent and purpose completely alone in this world. I knew that no one would come to protect me from this. I knew that the only options I had were the ones he had offered.
           And sadly, I didn’t want to die. Not yet. I’m not sure why I don’t want to die. I think it would be better if I just did.
           He then proceeded to select an outfit for me when he finally saw that I had given in. It was one of his daughters clubbing dresses; it was too slutty on me because I was much taller and far thicker than she is. But it fit the job description just right. Everyone who saw me on the way here knew exactly what kind of business I was in.  
           When I got here I simply had to have sex with the guy. He’d already paid my uncle so I wouldn’t get a penny even though I was the one who put in the work. I used to think I would do anything for money but I guess I was wrong.
           I sigh when he disappears from sight. Without his huge presence in the room I feel like I can breathe. By the time I hear the water running I have already made up my mind. I can’t stay here, I won’t do this. I don’t care if I owe my uncle millions, she was his sister he had as much responsibility to pay her hospital bills as I did. I don’t care about his threats I’ll just leave his house. I have a few thousand shillings left in my mobile phone account.
           Anyway, it’s not like he can kill me if he can’t find me. And this is Tanzania, I could move to another street and he might still not be able to find me. I’ll just go to Dar es Salaam. I know a few of Mama’s friends who will help me out for a short while.
           I managed to burry my mother; there is nothing I won’t be able to do if I want to.
           I guess I’ve managed to convince myself because I am walking towards the door when I hear the water go off. I take quicker strides thankful that my shoes are off. I try to walk fast without making a noise so he isn’t alarmed. He must be dangerous if he is Uncle’s associate. I hear him step into the bathroom the moment I’ve stepped out into the corridor. My heart booms in my chest because I know what will happen if he catches me trying to escape. He might try to do something to me himself, worse still, he could return me to Uncle.
           I know one thing only, I can’t be in the corridor when he looks out. Lucky for me the guy next door is just closing his door so I rush towards his room just before he's about toclose it and close the door behind me. I make sure the door is locked before I turn to face the stranger.
           I realize then that he’s white. He looks to be in his mid-twenties. He has huge hazel eyes, the color of honey with a tint of green. His hair is brown and wavy. He’s also tall but honestly this is the first time I’ve been this close to a white person and it’s sort of like meeting a star but not really. It’s just I have so many misconceptions about white people; about people of all other races really because I’ve never had the chance to interact with them.    
           “Who are you?” I can’t place his accent but it’s not American, Mexican or British but it sounds to me like he’s unbelievably surprised by my presence but not in the least wary. Still I understand I’m intruding on a white man so I explain myself.
           “I’m so sorry,” I say looking behind me like I expect the Mr. Mboma to barge in here “I just,” my voice is shaking so badly I stop to try and steady it. Why do I believe that my uncle will make true of his promise and murder me? “I really am sorry but I’m hiding from a bad person, if you could please let me stay here until he stops searching for me? Please?” and because I can’t read his face I add “Please, it’s a matter of life or death.” Is that sentence correct or did I just speak broken English?
           I don’t know why he comes closer to me but I flinch and back away the moment he tries to hold my hands “I just wanted to steady you, you’re shaking pretty badly.”
           I nod but I’m still rigid. I can’t relax. I still feel like I’m holding my breath as I wait for the other, other shoe to drop because the other one has already dropped.
           “Why don’t you sit,” he tells me motioning to the couch.
           I nod then wait for him to back away before I walk to the couch. I’ve barely sat down before there is a knock on the door. I stand up abruptly. He peers through the peeping hole then motions for me to go the open door on the other side of the room. I run in there, careful not to make a sound.
           This other room is the bathroom, which is large, as large as the bedroom I share with my cousins at my uncle’s place. It is immaculately clean, as if everything is brand new. It’s filled with a fancy hot tub, I mean I think it’s a hot tub I’ve only ever seen those in movies and The Sims.
           The mirror in here is big, the kind you take countless mirror selfies in. I stare at my reflection.
           My eyes look sunken and the fear is apparent, maybe that’s why they seem so dark, maybe they never seem anything but dark when the sun light isn’t lighting them. My skin is a shade a shade darker to polished wood, maji ya kunde. I am tall for a Tanzanian girl, but 5’5 isn’t that tall. I’m not too skinny; I have my mother’s curves. I have her full ample legs too. I have my uncle’s eyes though; they were my grandfather’s eyes. Mama used to say I have my father’s lips but I’ve never met him so I cannot confirm. They are full and pink like I spend a substantial amount of time licking them. I don’t do that but the color is what drew Mama to him.
           My hair is in braids. They’re itchy I want to scratch them but I have other things on my mind.
           I hear a man talking but I can’t hear what he says, it’s not my client. Perhaps he’s like my Uncle; he never has to do his own dirty business.
           “I am the only person here,” the room owner says “And I did ask not to be disturbed.”
           The other person murmurs some more.
           “I hope this doesn’t happen again, I am already severely discouraged by your services. It would be another thing entirely for me to be aggrieved,” it almost sounds like he’s threatening whoever he’s talking to. Must be the Hotel stuff.
           The other person murmurs his apologies I guess, I can hear their apologetic voice but I still can’t make out what they are saying. I hear the door close shortly thereafter.    
           I sneak a view to see whether he’s really alone. He is so I step out of his bathroom.
           “You’ll have to stay a while; the hotel staff is out looking for you. Apparently you stole something of great value from the person across the hall?” his eyes are piercing, calculating and accusatory “Would explain why you were shaking.”  
           “I didn't steal from him.” I’m still shaking but I’m careful with my voice. I don’t want it to betray just how scared I am. I might die tonight. I wonder if Mr. Mboma has already informed my Uncle.
           “Sit,” he says as he settles into a couch himself. I sit across from him.
           He stares at me, his gaze makes me feel insecure so I lower my eyes and stare at his long legs stretched out in front of him. Eventually I decide to find another distraction and take my phone out. I realize my Uncle could use this to track me but he’s not an intelligent individual. I doubt he would think to use technology to find me but I do not want to take any risks. I put my phone on airplane mode. I turn off the location as well, I wonder if it works in airplane mode, most likely not. I’ll have to google that.  
           “What’s your name?”
           I stare at him; I know what my face is saying. Don’t talk to me. I’m scared yes, but I wish I was alone. I wish I was somewhere where I could freely swallow myself in self-pity. I do not want to talk to someone even if that someone is giving me a place to hide.
           “I’m Nikolai,”
           No last names then “Waridi,”
           “Worried?”
           “No, War-e-dee.”
           “Is that an actual name or just something you go by?”
           “It’s rose in Swahili,” I don’t know why I sound so mean but it’s not like I can cozy up to men after the shitty day I just had.
           I have to find a mobile money agent so I can withdraw some money. We’re in the Serengeti Wild Reserve so it will be pretty costly to leave here. I don’t know all the logistics but I have enough to get to Dar. I lived there with my mother when I was younger, there are a couple of friends of hers who can help me get on my feet. More importantly, they have no link to my Uncle.
           “Are you hungry?” the way he talks is very sophisticated, like a lawyer but much fancier. It’s full of mannerism. Just his voice and the way he speaks color my perception of him, I expect him to be a perfect gentleman. But there is an entitled undertone in his voice, it’s sexy but slightly grating.  
           “Hungry? No, I’ll just eat when I leave.” The truth is I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning; that was when uncle informed me of what I would be doing today. But I don’t feel hungry at all, and even if I did eat, I doubt I could keep it down.
           He stares me, he has intense eyes. They seem to be reading me but they don’t give anything away. I’m not one to shy away from direct eye contact but I find myself looking away.
           “I doubt you will be able to leave tonight,”
           My whole body goes rigid. What does he mean I can’t leave tonight? Does he expect me to run from one room to avoid selling myself only to come and sleep with him? I look down at my dress, it’s so suggestive. I don’t even need to say that I’m a hooker. I have on cheap make up, the kind that just screams you don’t have to pay much. The kind that says changudoa.
           “That’s not what I meant,” he says reading me perfectly “Whoever you’re running from is obviously still looking for you; he has the hotel staff looking for you so obviously you have to wait a while before you-”
           “Oh,” I let go of the breath I was holding and even laugh nervously “I’m not on the market,” I say, not because I think he thinks I’m on the market but because I need to not be labeled that way “This is all just…” I don’t know how to put what’s happening to me into words, not that I’m about to.
           I had learned early on to be independent and be wary of people. Mama moved to Dar after she’d given birth to me because my grandfather had kicked her out, in the middle of the night with a new born baby. She only told me to inform me that life was hard but I understood that life was hard when you depended on other people. You need to keep all your business, your own if you want to do that. So that was how I lived. Everyone was kept at an arm’s length.
           I was relearning this same lesson right now. If I had stayed with mama in Dar, if I hadn’t brought her to uncle I wouldn’t be in this dilemma.
           “You could take a shower; I think I have something that can fit you.”
           I wonder why he’s being so kind to me. But I don’t have the luxury of questioning his kindness. I need out of these clothes.
           “Thank you,” I say then tentatively head for the bathroom. I lock the door then wash the makeup away. I take off the slinky red dress then put it in the dust bin. I take a quick shower then dry off using the towels which are softer than any material I’ve used to wipe my body but then again I only use khanga or vitenge so it doesn’t really count as much of a comparison.
           I actually have a change of underwear in my bag so I change into those. I carried a pair of khanga because I have had sex before and those are just things you have to bring with you. I wrap the khanga around me; the material is very flimsy you can actually see the color of my panties. Why didn’t I carry a change of clothes?
           There’s a knock on the door, I open it then look out while trying to hide everything but my head.
           “I think these might fit you,”
           I take the clothes he’s offering “Thanks,” I lock the door then try them on.
           It’s a dark blue t-shirt and grey sweat pants. The material of both of them is so soft; I’ve definitely never worn anything of this quality. All my clothes are mitumba, used clothes. Mama only bought me brand new clothes for Eid and that was only when I was a kid. Those clothes never felt like this.
           They’re both baggy, but the pants have a string tie that assists in keeping them on. I step out of the bathroom to find food on the coffee table. It’s not just food it’s fancy food. Like perfectly styled food that I can’t even name but I see some fries and chicken. There’s salads, lobsters and oysters and some other fancy stuff; honestly these are all the things that I am used to seeing in movies.  
           I dated a guy once who had a little change money, he took me to a hotel once and I had fries with fish fillet, it was extremely good. I also got to have lasagna but that was it.   
           “Smells nice,” I say so he can’t hear my stomach rambling.
           “Come on, join me.” he says and I notice that he’s changed into a black t-shirt and black sweat pants similar to the one I’m wearing.
           Nataka nivunge, pretend to say no but I’m extremely hungry, I might even blame my shaking hands on my hunger. So instead I say “Thank you,” as well as I can because the way he speaks is infectious, like I suddenly want to speak with his sort of mannerism.
           I tentatively try the fries; I notice that there are scallops so I try one of those. It definitely takes some getting used to. I eat some of the chicken. I eat a bit of everything and I’m finally fully that’s when I notice that he’s barely eaten anything “Aren’t you hungry?”
           “I’d actually already had dinner,” he says and then he does the cutest thing ever, he smiles but it’s not just a smile, it’s a shy smile like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t do. He looks as young as I am when he smiles like that. Actually he seems to have a rather boyish face now that I’ve seen him smile. My heart skips a beat and suddenly it’s like his skin is lighter or the sun is shining or whatever but he’s suddenly not just some mzungu who saved me by letting me stay in his room but he’s this really cute, a really attractive mzungu.
           “Thank you,” I say but my voice comes out too breathy.
           Be still my heart.