A random tale by Kweku Abeeku
It’s 3 AM at Kumasi Asafo Station. I had travelled for about 7 to 8 hours from the city of light, Tamale, to the Garden City, intending to catch another bus to Winneba. The Garden City was already alive, not with the cries of birds, the smiles of blooming flowers, or the deep baritone voices of frogs singing discordant songs to attract their mates, but rather with a swarm of beautiful ladies. They were all dressed similarly in shorts and adorned with waist beads, some in bikinis, while others wore crop tops or tank tops that revealed their curves and sagging breasts
These women were different from the Kaya girl I described in my piece “Ebibiman.” They were involved in the oldest profession. As I passed by to get a bus to my small village, one of them called out to me, “Boss u dey wan shot?” I smiled and asked, “At what cost?” She sheepishly replied, “70 cedis!” I quizzed, “For how long?” and she answered, “Until you cum.” When I asked her what would happen if I didn’t cum, she confidently said, “Everybody cums eventually.”
She refused to tell me her name, even after I mentioned that I would only come to her room if she could make me sing her name. Instead, she suggested singing mine, so I told her my name was Abeeku. I joked that if she sang my name, she would have to pay me the 70 cedis because that would mean she had enjoyed the experience.
As I talked to her, I noticed she wasn’t alone. I asked how they shared the money and if she had a boss. She confirmed that she did, with 40 cedis going to the boss and 30 to her. Curious, I asked if I was her first client of the day, and she said no; in fact, she had lost count of how many people she had been with that night.
To be continued