Into the thighlands
By: Benson King'Ori
Tags: Hustle, Mystery, Thriller, Distress, Commercial Sex Workers

She is awake. Of course, she is. How else could she know that she cannot see? How else could she know that the air is heavy and the place where she is very quiet? She has a headache. She recalls being struck by a masked figure. That is the least of her worries. She is sure of one of two things: She is either dead or abducted. She isn’t sure which is which. Her memories start coming back to her. She feels the betrayal. She should have listened to her friend.

‘My ‘friend’,’ She smiled, but yes- her friend.

The previous evening:

Aisha had just cracked the eggs. She went for the salt from her highest cabinet. It was on the highest closet, forcing her to stand on her toes. She remembered her grandpa joking that she could expose the secrets of the ants due to her height. She was seven then, seven not stupid. She had grown a lot since then, body, mind, and soul. Though these days she had to neglect spiritualism and her supposed cleanliness so that she could lead the life she always wanted but never had. Her grandfather might have been rotting away in his grave but his influence in her life has never faded.

‘He went too soon,’ She thought to herself.

He heard the voice of Sheikh Mahmud on her radio. She turned around as if she wanted to see him. She held resentment for the man. Unjustifiable resentment. It wasn’t his fault that his security details were so strict, neither could he be blamed for her grandfather’s stubborn refusal to contact him and seek his help. But still, someone had to take the blame. Her father had died seven years ago of spine cancer. She knew very well that their poverty was to blame. The doctor had spoken of successes in India and Montreal. How could they have afforded this when they were leaving from hand to mouth? On recalling this, she felt glad to be in her line of work. Her grandfather might not have approved of it but there’s a reason for everything… Even his premature demise.

Tears fill her eyes and blind her. She topples a spoon which she had misplaced as she tries to reach out for her kerchief. The spoon falls loudly. Her expression changes. She wasn’t the superstitious type but then…

‘Doesn’t a spoon falling signal a female visitor?’

She was scared. She had gotten good at her job earning her both cash and fame but success attracts foes faster than nectar attracts bees. Other girls at the brothel were enraged as more and more customers sought out this new girl. She could have been a sophomore now at the Technical University of Mombasa but then as life would have it she had better things to spend her time and energy on. Things like exploring her thighlands with a male partner who could match her price. Of course, she didn’t actually set the price all she did was state it. Kim set the price. He was the brothel’s owner but what he liked more was owning the lives, livelihoods, and souls of these girls the oldest of whom was only twenty-five. She had saved him but then, he was also the devil in the flesh, or was he a she?

Her door was knocked. Her heart skipped a beat before resuming its job at an abnormally high pace. She picked her kitchen knife just in case. The banging was familiar, however, many girls at the brothel knocked like that. Had one of her ‘friends’ come to end her as they often said once a customer picked her over them? This evening when coming home from the grocery store she was certain that someone was following her. She was a cautious girl and so she went through the parking lot where she was sure she wouldn’t be alone. The knocking continued. Ah! We only die once anyway! She went for the door, knife behind her back, forehead full of creases and sweat. She opened it, ready for anything, only to find…

‘Maimuna!’ This before an exhalation. ‘You startled me. Please do come in,’

She exposed the knife as she went to put it back in its place. She expected a reaction from her guest. Maimuna had been so friendly to her during her first days; Actually, she had been good to her throughout. Before Aisha came to the brothel, she was the most sought after girl, of course with the highest price too. Bed and sex, they called it. It was ironic that their friendship was not ruined by professional adversaries.

Aisha was disappointed. Maimuna had not moved an inch.

‘Friend, what’s up? Why don’t you come in?’

‘I just don’t feel like it. I am in a hurry anyway. A, I need a favor.’

‘Of course, anything,’

‘Tomorrow, G is coming. As usual, he will select both of us for the usual monthly thingy. Please don’t go. Ask for an off day from Kim or something, just don’t… Please.’ And with that, she left Aisha staring at the door she had closed.

G was for Governor. He wasn’t the governor par say, he was his deputy. Kim had joked that he would be the next governor and so the girls started calling him G. Every month he took the girls he liked most to an exclusive party held in his limousine out in the woods. The driver-turned-bodyguard would keep watch. Recently he had come to like both Aisha and Maimuna, but who was to say that wouldn’t change? These two, however, had faith in their abilities. This was a very profitable night for within it they would earn more than they did in a whole month. This was why Aisha was dumbstruck when Maimuna asked this favor of her. Obviously, she had some thinking to do.