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| A young prostitute by Eliane de Latour |
Two days ago I came back home late. Please don't ask me what I was doing outside at this time. lol. It was around 11 pm. I took a cab and the person with me showed me some girls sitting near the station Lubafrique in very short clothes.
"They are prostitutes."
I refused to agree with him saying that it was not possible. It seems that I'm naive. I rarely recognize prostitutes. First, because they wear the clothes that the Lambda Ivorian girl wears all over the city. Skimpy dresses, outfits that show more skin than they hide is the new fashion. If you want to use clothes to jugde, more than half of girls are prostitutes. Then I can barely identify them because I have trouble understanding how they can prostitute themselves in a place full of light, with their faces uncovered.
What if someone recognizes you? What if your parent goes through there? What if tomorrow you want to stop this "trade"? The past does not die. It hides in a corner to reappear when we take our happiness for granted.
I looked them carefully at the favor of the red light. Curvaceous, acceptable faces. In more decent clothes, they could have fit in the good mother role. What can push a lady to do that ? Is there no other alternative?
This is a huge risk they are taking by following men they do not know in sordid places. Their life is in danger. On the other side, the life of the customer too is in danger. Behind these angelic faces can hide serial killers, who knows?
I was even more stunned when the person with me said, "and there are even boys disguised among them ."
-Boys? May God help his children.
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