A few moons ago when minister simona broomes was out and about rounding up whores I applauded. and it’s not the sweet baby jesus in me part talking but I fundamentally believe whoring as an industry should not be encouraged or tolerated.
You can’t ban it or stop men from faring out they money while their children go hungry but whoring and sex trade is not something any society should aspire to.
I’ve never met a sane supporter of the whore industry who supported allowing their children to enter the industry. If it’s so good, why not?
But anyhow I am not the local mayor so if whoring is yuh ting, guh down slow
I talk to sex workers when I see them cause I fass like dat. You can’t go anywhere in guyana these days without stumbling over women who are here plying their trade.
Irregardless of all that and my views on whoring etc the women are human beings with real lives and stories to tell. I don’t know for sure, but I doubt 90% of them would be here doing this if other real options were available at home.
Met one at a bar last night. On the face of it, you would never tell this is what taking place. The women are tucked away inside acting like workers or customers.
One approached me and started the whole eye roll, hip shaking, tongue wagging thing common to sex workers trying to get your attention. Then she realized that wasn’t working and started a rapid fire demand for a Heineken in espanol.
I ask her why don’t you speak to me in English. I don’t speakie ingles. Ah ok. It would be nice though, if you plan on making this a serious career in English is our official third language Guyana. She wasn’t convinced.
From all indications she wanted to go somewhere more comfy but I comfy right here at the bar Bebe. eye roll, hip shaking, tongue wagging. I SAID, I AM COMFY RIGHT HERE AT THE BAR BEBE
suck teeth and she rolled on out to the next potential customer. before I leave my bill got Heineken pon it and I drinking banks. Cheers 🍻
Another lady did the whole routine but this time she include Heineken in her opening salvo. I was getting bored.
A local bad man slam his thousand dollar bill on the counter and demanded another beer. The barman refused. He threatened violence.
The women start cussing in Spanish. He held two bottles menacingly and staggered to his feet. His love of the moment pulled her dress back below her waist and backed away.
Guyana nites out can be so lovely and peaceful
His crew can’t control him he staggers to the entrance of the bar. The Cuban started dialing the police and squaring up for war.
He looked at me and I got off the stool. He’s about a foot taller than me and another 100 pounds more of muscle. He looking at me but I can’t really tell if he seeing properly. His eyeballs looked like glass
I is de fuckin coolie bad man. Yuh know who the fuck is me? Then he smiled.
Calm down. Eh? Calm down he not selling you no more beers. Ok well I gon but beers fuh me frens dem. Ok but it ain call fuh all dat. No…ok…here…rasta…me an dese people is fucking frens yuh know but if is fuckin war is war but not tonight . I jus kicksin. Well…leh we drink we beers an don’t cause trouble. Yuh know wuh, dem an me is fren we cool like duh.
The bouncer slash chuckerouter was already positioned to shed blood.
He tapped me on the shoulder and steadied himself. He smiled again.
Things returned to “normalcy” and I finished my beer
It’s time to roll and the Cuban billed me for two Heineken and smiled. The second lady holding a Heineken bottle now. She looked worried I about to leave and began talking even faster than before. A message to the world or anyone who would listen. Phrase pause. Another few words pause. Fast and faster. Disjointed but with meaning.
I like Guyana but I don’t like it here. I get treated better here than in Dominican Republic. The people here are nicer. I am hungry. Sometimes I don’t eat for three days. I have three children in Santiago. This man likes me but I don’t like him. I am only doing this for money but I hate it. I can wash clothes. I can clean house. I want my children here. I have three children you know. You understand me? I want to stay in Guyana. I sleep with men for the money only. I don’t like it. I don’t. There are days when I can’t do that you know and…this man take me to meet his mother. I cry sometimes. He said he will marry me so I can stay in guyana. No! But his mommy is nice to me. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.
eye roll, hip shaking, tongue wagging buy me a Heineken is a thin veneer, desperately trying to cover the misery inside.
poverty is violence.