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  • What She Said: I Love Being A Prostitute

    Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here. This is Zikoko’s What She Said.

    The subject of today’s What She Said is a 23-year-old woman who loves working as a prostitute. She talks about wanting to be a nurse when she was younger, the challenges of her current job, and her dream of  teaching mathematics.

    Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here. 

    What’s an early memory of your childhood?

    In primary school, we had one of those career days where you’d dress up as what you wanted to be when you grew older. I wanted to be a nurse. I remember wearing my white gown and carrying a thermometer around to check people’s temperatures. 

    I liked the idea of taking care of people, and at that point, that was all I wanted out of my life. To have a job where I’d spend the whole day caring for someone else.

    So, did you study nursing? 

    I didn’t. As I got older, the idea of caring for people still appealed to me, but nursing seemed so stressful and hard. Also, after I heard all the years they were going to spend in university, I wasn’t interested anymore. 

    My secondary school had a tutoring program where they’d pair one really smart student with a student who was struggling, to see if the grades of those students would improve. I was really good at mathematics, so I tutored three students. By the end of the term, their grades improved, and I realised teaching was something I wanted to do. 

    I studied mathematics education in university and I’m working on getting my master’s by next year. After that, a PhD. Right now, I’m just working so I can save up enough money for all the things I have to do. 

    Glad you found what you loved. How’s the saving money part going? 

    Well, it’s going great. The goal is about fifty thousand dollars in savings before I leave for school. Also, to invest and earn some passive income. 

    I currently don’t have a job that makes me a fixed income, but I want to believe I’m doing okay. When I initially decided I wanted to be a sex worker, it was rough for a couple of months, but it’s been two years and life has finally balanced enough for me to say I can save fifty thousand dollars in a year and some months. 

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    How did you decide you wanted to be a sex worker? 

    It was in 2019 and I was at a restaurant when someone propositioned me. He sent a waiter with a card that asked me how much it would cost for him to take me to his hotel. At first, I was shocked. Other than randomly being called a prostitute by men and women who were trying to insult me, nobody had actually offered to pay me to have sex with them. I was also curious to see if he was serious. I was working at a bank at the time, and the money coming in wasn’t great, so I decided to play along with it. I told him to pay me 125k because I thought he wouldn’t, but he agreed. 

    I want to believe that the combination of being drunk, broke and curious led me to do it the first time. Looking back, I should have been more careful because I didn’t tell my friends what I went to do or who I went to do it with. I just followed a stranger to a strange place. 

    How did that go? 

    It was average sex and he gave me the money in cash. When I was getting ready to leave in the morning, he gave me an extra 20k and his card and told me to keep in touch. At the time, I was still trying to wrap my head around what just happened.  I got home, had a nap and woke up to almost 150k in cash beside me. I knew I would call him back. I just didn’t know when. 

    I called my best friend and explained the entire thing to her. After she scolded me for my recklessness, she helped me come up with a plan. We decided I would need to invest in my appearance, and that’s how the money that man gave me became capital for maintaining the business that is my body. 

    Was he the only one you slept with? 

    Of course not. As he and I saw more often, he took me along to parties with his friends and I met more people. They’d give me their numbers and I just did what I did. They ranged from businessmen and businesswomen to politicians and their wives. 

    Not all the people were old. The youngest person I ever slept with for money was 35. We met at a sex club, and she was bored and wanted to try something new. Honestly, I would have done it for free, but money must be made. 

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    How much would you say you’ve earned? 

    The money wasn’t a lot in the beginning. It was very dependent on how many people I slept with, and at that time, I actually had to have sex with people. I wasn’t just an escort or some fine girl they were trying to impress. It was an average amount of 350 thousand naira a month. Way more than I earned in the bank job I quit after my first month as a sex worker, and even more than anything I would have earned at any job I was doing at the time. 

    As I expanded my circle and paid more to take care of myself, the price went up. Now, sometimes I’m paid in dollars or pounds, and I can make millions of naira in a month. 

    It’s hard work constantly being beautiful, but it’s honest work. I don’t have sex with as many people anymore, so most of my money comes from people trying to impress me like young guys I meet at the gyms, clubs, restaurants, etc.

    Do your family members know? 

    No, and I intend to keep it that way for now. The thing with being a sex worker is constantly having to explain your means of income. To my parents and brother, I’m an entrepreneur. Most sex workers have other jobs they use to mask what they actually do. We live in a very weird society and I’m not ready for the onslaught that’ll happen once they find out the money I’ve been giving them to spend is sex money. 

    I do plan on telling them eventually, but maybe after I’ve done my master’s.

    What’s the hardest part of your job? 

    There are so many hard parts, it’s unbelievable. One thing that stresses me out is always having to worry about your appearance. In this industry, you need to always look good. Even if you’re just going to pick up garri from the market, you need to put in effort. 

    Also, sicknesses. I’m very careful when it comes to sex. I encourage my regulars to get tested regularly, and so do I. I also always use a condom and visit my gynaecologist as often as possible. I have an IUD, so I’m covered on the pregnancy front, although I did get pregnant once but miscarried it. 

    I can’t tell people what I do. There’s also harassment. People just feel like since you do what you do, they’re free to constantly harass you and try to touch you without your consent. It’s crazy and absolutely disgusting. 

    Lastly, dealing with people’s spouses. There is almost always one partner threatening me with some form of violence or the other. All I do is provide a service, I’m not trying to marry them or anything. Will you shout at me if I was a dry cleaner? 

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    How long do you see yourself doing this? 

    For as long as I can. I’m aware that being a prostitute is not a sustainable idea. I’d no longer be as young or as flexible as I am now and would earn less and no longer be as sought after, so I’m going to milk it for as long as I can. 

    I love my job, but I also have bigger plans. Teaching is my passion. I just want to be in a classroom and change people’s lives. I also enjoy studying mathematics.

    Do you have any regrets? 

    That maybe I should have charged that man more on my first night. I’m happy and able to travel to a lot of countries by myself, whenever I want. I can afford way more than the basic necessities, and I have more free time than I know what to do with. 

    I’m great, and life is treating me fantastic. 

    Are there any misconceptions about your job you’d like to clear? 

    Firstly, not everyone hates their job as a sex worker. I love being a prostitute. Also, a lot of people hate their jobs and also only do it because they need to survive. Why then is prostitution a problem? 

    Secondly, I am not selling my body. I’m selling a service and that service is sex. My body is not for sale in any way.

    [donation]

    Itohan Esekheigbe

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  • Falz’s fourth studio album leaves little to the imagination.

    The lead and only single, Talk is Falz pointing fingers as he runs through Nigeria’s most salient problems.

    On the day it was released to a social media frenzy, Falz also shared the album jacket, designed by Lemi Ghariokwu, most known for his work for Fela Kuti.

    He is also featured on the album. The title, however, gives it all away.

    If the album’s title “Moral Instruction” suggest a pious class on Nigeria’s woes and how we’re responsible for the mess we find ourselves in, that’s because it is.

    By now, such social commentary is not unexpected from Falz.

    You’d have to go as far back as his debut “Wazup Guy” to find what could well count as his first politically-charged song.

    On “How Far” featuring Sir Dauda, Falz manages to express genuine shock that the same people have been at the country’s helm for generations.

    He then goes on–”They say we go write the future, them no give us pen/Give it up for VIPs, them be our problem/Vagabonds in power, as Fela called them“.

    In the years since, Falz has come to embrace commentary and offer his own two cents–most notably on “This is Nigeria”–on issues of cultural and social relevance.

    “Moral Instruction” comes at a time where he is a forerunner in the conversation about activist musicians and a new Fela.

    It is only fitting then that the album’s opener “Johnny” is led by a boisterous sample of Fela Kuti’s “Johnny Just Drop”.

    The story of a young graduate shot by an insecure, trigger-happy police officer is all too familiar to the average Nigerian.

    Stellar production by TMXO puts the song at a confluence – Falz’s delivery assures you that this is hip-hop, yet there is that indisputable bounce on the guitar that makes you want to swing and lose yourself.

    But there is nothing to swing to. This is, at its core, a sad song.

    On the first verse, Falz makes references to the seemingly endless violence in Jos–“Dem kill am for Jos for no just cause/nobody fit comot for house, who born us?“.

    He proceeds to narrate the moment when Johnny dies – “una don run go chop, Oya give me my own share/before them talk one, he say ‘shut up!’/who dash you liver/talk small, I go cock gun/small time, e don pull trigger”.

    It is in moments like this, when Falz passionately addresses the violent inanities and the lack of decorum that have become part of life in Nigeria, that the album works best.

    On “Talk”, he points the finger at the usual suspects – politicians, religious leaders, the regular man and his apathy as reasons for the state of the nation.  

    “Amen” is where he comes the men at the helm of wealthy religious institutions whom he sees as jet-setting swindlers selling hope for donations and Sunday offering.

    “Take our offering set up uni/and your church members no fit afford the school fees” is a line that should incite some conversations in a few Alumni Whatsapp groups.

    In an industry helmed by flamboyant stars making assembly-line pop music, Falz is eager to be seen as the one directly addressing issues we have grown numb to.

    It is as he emphasises at he ends “Talk” with one final confession–”na me talk am”.

    It is when this eagerness veers into contentious territory, that Falz’s brand of activism becomes problematic.

    This brand of moral instruction turns a familiar chapter on “Talk”–where he continues a pattern of berating sex work with the lines–”Instead make you work, you dey find Alhaji/Eh eh, you dey find Alhaji/You come turn your body to cash and carry/Eh eh cash and carry“.

    His insistence on addressing sex work as an immoral symptom of greed has drawn criticism.

    But the outrage became much louder after journalist Joey Akan posted a video of him explaining his distaste for ‘transactional sex’ (amidst several questionable uses of the term “feminist”) at his listening party–which is being interpreted as a sense of entitlement to women’s bodies.

    The problem with using morality as a lens is that it is entirely subjective and constantly evolving.

    Our ideas of good and bad overlap at obvious points –bad governance, corruption, murder–but at others, holding one’s beliefs over another’s can reek of self-righteousness.

    Unlike his appraisal of religion, Falz’s personal opinion about sex work refuses to explain how it sits in the larger context of societal ills and the sorry state of our nation.

    The reality of sex work in Nigeria, more often than not, is the result of too many social factors.

    Falz addresses some of them but others, like simple choice and outdated laws are beyond his scope on the album.

    However one may feel about ‘transactional sex’ though, we cannot strip people of their right over their own bodies.

    Falz’s approach is problematic – but not fatal.

    That’s because “Moral Instruction” and the incisive political critique it pulls off is held together by some very good music.

    Trap meets Fela’s disruptive energy on “Follow Follow” via a sample of the classic “Zombie”.

    The result is a song that has the potential to distract you from the fact that 30 years after, we, not soldiers, are the zombies here.

    “Amen” is as rich as red velvet cake. It is led by a poignant sample of Fela’s “Coffin For Head of State”, and thickened with excerpts from interviews and Falz at his most lyrical in years.

    In an important election year, Falz’s moral instruction is a reminder that we have become all too comfortable in this dysfunctional society we’ve made for ourselves.

    At its best, it is militant and demanding. At its most controversial, it is another’s can and nearly disappointing.

    For everything he does to address our collective apathy, his choice to point fingers at perceived wrongdoers on the basis of his own opinion feels like an easy way out.

    To his credit, Falz seems to acknowledge this on the album’s final track where he says “After all is said and done/I do not have the right to direct the finger of guilt or the look of contempt at my guy/for even I can barely see through the speck in my eye” but it’s a little late.

    It is almost a given that this album will be defined by the nuance in the conversations it has and inspires.

    It makes the album more apt for the times than we could have guessed.

    The curse of morality is that even though we all agree certain things are wrong, no-one, not even Falz or the funky ghost of Fela’s activism is ever absolutely right.

    Segun Akande

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