Behind the scenes of a hustler

There she stood under the rays of a bright street light. Shade wasn't the least comfortable with those heels but she knew better than remove them. 

With a plastic smile, she waves her long manicured fingers at any expensive car. Some slow a bit to spare her a lustful glance as she displays her 'package' others zoom off. For a moment, she started to regret why she left Coker street. A known street that housed different illegal activities and immoralities. Be it Drug dealers, men of the underworld, gentlemen of the night, different pervert clubs and hotels and mainly prostitutes. 

A street where even the police never dared to enter on uniform. A street where "morally upright" people avoided most especially at night. She would have gotten a customer by now had she been there.

But,she knew she had to leave when the only friend she made there or, she ever had was killed. Christy was the craziest of them all and she always stood out with her bright multicoloured afro wig. Christy had always defended her from other girls ever since she knew about their similar life story and at a point, other 'hustlers' started addressing them as sisters although they've known each other for about three years. Of all aspect of the business, the only one Shade couldn't get accostomed to was dragging over a customer as it mostly turned to a deadly fight.

 One would be suprised at how a squabble over a customer could bring about shredded clothes and major skin damage either from a shoes' pointed heel or, like last time from the little knife one hustler hid in her flimsy shorts so, Shade always stayed put. Afterall, Some customers like the ones that seem reserved and come for her.

Christy could never agree to that and will always jerk her shoulder after such drama "dey there dey form posh when you get pikin wey go chop for house you better find customer. Like this, any yeye girl wey wan drag ur right you no sabi say I go follow you scratch en eye? You too fear abeg " before completing her statement, another customer would have come and Christy will firmly hold her hand and hurriedly drag her to the 'battle front' screaming among other voices. "Oga see my sister she fine well. She go do you better" If her shrieking voice doesn't get the customer's attention, then her colourful wig will.

 She usually does this if she had gotten a customer and upon her return to hustle for another, discovers Shade hasn't. If the customer picks her, you would see Christy passing side commentary threats as a silent dare for anyone that might want to verbally or worse still physically assult Shade. 

She looked way matured than her age with a slightly huge body frame you would never believe she was twenty two years old. Other girls always stay clear from them. This was mostly how Shade gets her customers.

Most times, especially when they both had a customer that didn't want them all through the night or, they got none at all which was rare they hung out in a small bar close to gist. Laughing over a couple of drinks mostly of how they dealt with customers that refused to pay or, how they robbed unsuspecting ones. Christy always had the funniest and juiciest stories.

She smiled as she recalled a particular story Christy told her of how she pretended to be a witch when she realised she had fallen into the hands of a kidnapper. She started dancing to a non existent music. Formulating incantations and pointing an imaginary wand towards his manhood, she started calling him 'the chosen one'. They always laughed out their lungs when she demonstrated it wriggling her body this way and that and laughed even harder whenever she came to the part he ran out of the brothel for his life holding his dear manhood with one hand and pleading the blood of Jesus. 

Till her death, she hid chicken feathers under her wig to put up a more scary act incase she fell into wrong hands again. Other times, they swapped their life stories.

 Under her wig, Christy had a head filled with wisdom which Shade borrowed to approach life. 'You lucky say you dey on scholarship sef... make my mama well first. Me ehn, I must go school o en important even if na adult school. This one na dog life" she would always say determination written all over her face. 

Shade had always admired her selflessness. Christy sold her body to see her siblings at home through school and pay her mother's hospital bills who is battling with cancer. She couldn't imagine sacrificing her body for her family not after her own mother watched her father drive her away when they learnt of her pregnancy without believing it was the fruit of a rape incident. Her feelings or safety were nothing compared to her Father's reputation. She was 18 then.

A potential customer finally came driving her from her reminisce. He parked his rickety car a little distance from her and was beckoning on her. But, she paid him no mind. 

Christy had always advised her against entertaining such customers. "All these mumu people no dey pay. Even if dem pay you dem no go pay all. They go dey price like say you be pepper seller. If you no shine your eye sef, dem go thief from you. But, you see those ones wey get better motor, na dem be the koko. No be say you go dull yourself for dem o. But them dey pay" she would always say backing her claims with the story of how she followed one with a rickety car to a cheap hotel and ended up being drugged only to wake up to find her purse containing the money she made earlier that night had vamoosed with the customer. 

The man got tired when he realized he was being snubbed and went back into his car. The car began to make angry noises. An obvious result of repeated steps on the throttle. For a second, Shade thought the man's car had broken down not until she saw the thick cloud of black smoke coming her way from his broken exhaust pipe did she realise his vengeful intentions. Before she could find stones to deal with his car's glass, he drove off with more blessings of carbon monoxide throwing her into a coughing fit. She would have laughed about this with Christy had she not been murdered.

Christy had loved her son like he was hers. She made her love him too. Shade had labelled him the source of her problems and treated him as such. 

She could remember an experience about two and a few months ago when Christy clutched her wailing baby all the way from her house to Coker street to drop him on her shoulder ignoring the embarrassing stares as typical of her. She must have found him just as she kept him tied to the bed with a teat in his mouth to muffle his wails and keep nosy neighbours away till she returned. 

"Nawa for you Christy you wouldn't have brought this..."
" This wetin?" Retorted Christy advancing
"No! Complete am make I tear you slap you wicked girl" she threatened drawing the attention of other hustlers who dispersed at the sight of a potential customer. "You sabi how many people dey find pikin for this life? When you go even start to dey look en face. En no gree abort wen en dey ur belle you think say en go gree die now?..Why you no get conscience Shade...whyyy?". Not sparing her an answer she left with her crying baby. For the first time, she felt guilt.

 They didn't talk for days and during that period, she discovered she actually had a soft spot for her child which in time grew into an overwhelming love. She learnt to take care of her child herself and look at him as a miracle. When they started talking, their sisterhood bond was stronger. Christy was always in her house taking care of her son to keep him out of the way so, she could study whenever she had exams. Christy was the one he first called mummy. Life had been a bit easy until that night.

That fateful night, they had been looking for customers when a black car pulled up. Christy grabbed her hand in a rush as usual to parade themselves when she saw the men that alighted, she stopped and turning swiftly, shouted just one word with fear in her eyes. “RUN!”.

 Christy never shows fear unless when she's talking about her mother's chance of survival so without asking questions and still clutching hands despite the heely shoes making their legs wobble, they ran with all their might. Shade heard the two deafening gunshot but thought nothing of it as gunshots were common on this street.  It didn't actually concern her until Christy fell with the shots. 

The men returned to their car and screeched away as swiftly as they came.

 Shade was unpleasantly suprised. Yes, people get shot in movies, on coker street. Stories like that are usually on Tv, radio, newspapers, elsewhere, just other people she didn't know or didn't know well but not Christy. 

It seemed like a bad dream as she shook her dear friend frantically shouting for help. But no one was in sight as everyone had fled for their life. 

"It's of no use Shade. I deserved it" That was when the reality of the situation hit her.
"Just promise me you will eventually quit this lifestyle" she asked in a rush. "Shut up you will live" Shade screamed unable to control her emotions.
"Shade!" She feebly called out with a little authority.
"Yes...ok Yes" Shade sobbed. " Now hang on even if no one comes, I'm carrying you on my back to a hospital" She tried different ways of lifting her but couldn't until someone pointed out her death. Only then did she notice Christy's cold stare through unblinking eyes and the crowd forming around them. 

All hell let loose as she screamed refusing to let go of her. People tried to drag her off Christy's body without success. They too fled when Christy's wig was yanked off in the struggle revealing and scattering the chicken feathers. Many people recording the incident had a field day. An ambulance finally carried her body away.

When it was time to contact her family did Shade realize she actually knew next to nothing about her dear friend. She wondered about her assassins and the reason for her death and why she thought she deserved it. 

Was it related to the white tablets in little satchets she carried in her bag about a year ago? She said they were chloroquine tablets. She stopped carrying them when her son almost ate some. 

Christy had snatched it from him, held the boy to her chest for a minute before screaming at him in tears never to touch a lady's bag most especially hers. Else, she'll cut all his fingers off. The two year old not understanding what she was saying, started to laugh. She too laughed knowing the chloroquine tablets wouldn't actually  have harmed him unless he took an overdose.

 Christy was the only person that didn't find it funny. Or, weren't they chloroquine? She wondered.

 Was her death related to her constant disappearance for some days without informing her? And when she returns, She would always say she went to do business because prostitution alone can't cater for her family's needs. If Shade pesters to know the nature of the business and if possible be introduced to it, "This one no be for people wey get butter heart abeg" was her usual reply and if Shade pesters more, "finish school first" would be her reply. She would say nothing more on it no matter how Shade pesters her. 

Or was it the reason for her numerous change of phones and phone numbers. "You know say phone dey always lost for my hand ni. Abeg save this one na my new line" she would always say while Shade will tease her calling her careless. Little wonder her current phone was useless in helping to contact her family. 

Or was it related to the reason she never wanted her to visit? She was always adamant when the topic arises. She couldn't believe she didn't know where her friend lived. She was the one always being visited.

 Could it be related to the nights she banged on her back door in an urgent manner and when let in, never steps out for any reason for some days. Or maybe it had something to do with the numerous discreet calls she defended as business calls?. She would never know just as, she never knew Christy could speak polished English until when she said her last words.

She had long forgiven her for keeping secrets from her because, from the little she knew Christy, she must have had concrete reasons. Only regrets of not noticing her friend was in any possible danger talk less of knowing what she could have done to help tormented her.

She wondered when her son would stop asking after 'Aunty Christy' or when the pain of losing her best friend would go away. She thought of her parents. She missed them. Were they even looking for her? If she had reported and spoken about the rape without minding the societal stigma and possible blames it could bring before the pregnancy revealed itself would they have believed and supported her? 

Different video clips of the night of Christy's death which she appeared in had gone viral. She couldn't even read the harsh judging comments on them. She had already gotten used to the stares, gossips and obvious isolation she got in school. She has had no real friends until Christy came along since the few she had in her first year deserted her while, her fellowship had excommunicated her without hearing from her upon the news of her pregnancy. 

Infact, what explanations did she have? Her parents didn't believe her. Who then would? She wondered if her parents had seen the videos and what they thought of her now. 

It must have finally dented her father's priced reputation. 

She had considered taking her life many times but that would be turning her back on her son and Christy wouldn't have approved. She would have said something like "Na because of these nyama nyama people you wan kpeme? You no get sense o. Abegi people must talk Jare! dem dey run their mouth because you dey sin different Nyama Nyama people choke " Nyama nyama and yeye were her words for her 'haters' she chuckled painfully in remembrance. 

Even though Christy would have said that like it wasn't a serious matter, she was sure she would have moved in temporarily to stay with her so, she could follow her everywhere down to the toilet if possible just to make sure she doesn't carry out the suicide plan. How she missed her!

A flashy car pulled up infront of her. After small talks relating to her hustle, she entered. The chilly air from the air conditioning hit her. She hugged herself tightly. Her skimpy clothes did nothing to help. The man old enough to be her father wouldn't agree to turn it off. Other days, she would have just alighted and banged the door very hard. But she had her bills to pay, her son to feed and a burial to organize.

It's been three months and no news from anyone identifying as Christy's family member and Heavens forbids her body being buried as an unidentified body or worse still sold to ritualists or as a cadaver to medical schools just as the mortuary attendant hinted. 

An honorable  burial no matter how small was the least she could do for her friend.

She knew she would have to stop prostituting someday just as she promised Christy but not today. Certainly not today.

 #QueenLikeNono #BehindtheScenesofaHustler