I was raised by a single mum married to a drunk husband. All my dad ever cared about was having 500/-Shs for Waragi. Stuff like our school fees, food and social welfare were never part of his daily vocabulary. The hot ball was left rolling in my peasant mum’s hands whose only source of income was farm produce boosted by loans from Women Sacco’s in our village.
I attended the most local schools because the tuition here was affordable and payable in installments. With this humble background, I worked tooth and nail towards a government scholarship during A’level in 2013. I thank God I excelled and my performance was good enough to earn me a private admission at Makerere University which I had longed for as this guaranteed my freedom from western Uganda’s locality.
My determined mother was not about to give up on her daughter’s battle. She risked and mortgaged the small piece of land that had survived the massive sell offs. With this loan, my tuition,hostel fees were cleared and there I stood with no single penny on me but with my head up high as I walked on the streets of the ivory tower. An average girl from remote Bushenyi was to start living in a city that was too civilised for her.
Every day of my first semester was long enough to make me feel like I was in the Stone Age. My dress code, hairstyle are situations back then get me teary whenever I recollect them. My course mates and almost the whole university owned smart phones,laptops, put on lipstick, rocked high waist pants, expensive body hugging dresses and bags. They also had lunch at guild canteen and went to night clubs, that’s how I perceived civilization. I was forcing myself to change but didn’t know how I would earn quick money to transform my dreams into reality.
I confronted myself towards welcoming dirty ways in my life as I embraced DISGUISED PROSTITUTION.
First I hooked up a guy at Mitchel hall. I pretended to be in love but all I needed were luxuries. I gave him more sex than he ever needed but he was a struggling student too; perhaps from a family as humble as mine. I can’t deny he tried to meet my needs but at a slower pace. I couldn’t wait for him to cope up so I twisted the game and started hooking up innocent guys from the library and campus compounds. I was so experienced that I could tell a guy who is too introverted not to even exchange greetings with the opposite sex. I was the spokesperson to this type of guys for I gave them what they wanted without them having to ask for it and in turn would get paid.
Finally I could afford all the luxuries, fancy clothes and expensive delicacies I had always yearned for. This made me more attractive to my prey. As the business boomed, I forgot about the term SAVING. I spent as much as I earned until one day during the second semester when bad business days proved me extravagant. Me and a bunch of girls at our hostel completely ran out of food and upkeep. Having been close friends, we sat and without remorse agreed to go man hunting for that was the only way out of our famine stricken rooms.
We stormed the road stretch connecting kasubi road to Kikoni B road that cuts across Muhiika, Pintos, Judith Hetty’s hostels and Caltec Academy. Every evening, we’d walk around recklessly and guys who could tell we were vending goodies would approach us, buy us supper, lay them and there we had our tummies sorted.
One of our friends later suggested we up our game, why was food all we got out of a night’s pounding by fellow campusers. She connected us to a pimp in Nankulabye where we started commercial prostitution at 3000/- for short encounters and 8000/- long. The old whores were loosing market to is because the men preferred young blood. “These are fresh campusers” they used to refer to us.
I forgot about the principles my mother raised me with. Some rude customers sometimes left me bleeding or wounded as they would engage in vigorous sexual activity to ensure their money was maximumly utilised. With my fine curvaceous body from the west, I was always ambushed by older prostitutes accusing me of devaluing them. My customers never bargained and most times paid me double the price because to them I was too beautiful and naturally endowed to be pounded for 3,000/-(such assurances were pride indicators before destruction).
This was the life I lived until the day a classmate purchased me. It was the most shameful night of my life. I look up to it every time I wake up. We had sex just like I did with other customers but the aftermath was an experience that brought me back to my senses. My classmate was shameless enough to go around spreading my prostitution gospel. The boys in class and around their faculty circles who had tried vibing me all ran away. I was left with no friends at all, I mean, who’d want to associated with a prostitute? My whole world had came to an end.
I gave prostitution a break and started meditating on my future. First, I confessed to mum about it. I had never seen her that heart broken but her only bundle of joy had sold her divinity to the wolves. She later forgave me and swore to meet all the necessities that I needed. I confronted the classmate who was spreading the bitter truth about me too and he put an end to the hatred. He told me of how meeting me in the brothel had changed his life too. Yes he was rubbishing me but at the back of his mind, he knew he was in the wrong too. He told me about Pr Bujjingo’s church and the Fellowships at The Pool Side which I took serious. From then on, a man has never seen me naked and neither have I ever felt dissatisfied with what I am or have.
Iam Irene Abashaba and that was my story.
