The Innocent Prostitute (Rev.)(Mike Kaupembe) The Innocent Prostitute

By Mike Kaupembe

I remember that chilly night at Ndiferapano night club like it was yesterday. The neon lights flickered above, casting a dim glow over the dance floor where a bunch of girls were dancing to death. I sat in a corner, observing it all with a mix of despair and desperation. I had been working at the club for only a week, and everything seemed to be getting grittier by the day. I was a young girl, and this wasn't the life I had envisioned for myself.

As I scanned the room, my eyes met those of a classy young gentleman drinking alone at the counter. He seemed out of place among the rowdy crowd, and I wondered what had brought him here. We exchanged a surreptitious glance, and he smiled, waving me over. I hesitated, unsure if I was ready to take the plunge. Mama J, a seasoned prostitute and my mentor, nudged me, urging me to go for it.

"Come on, Tadala, this is our only chance," she whispered. "He might go for the girls dancing over there. You see, we need this. We haven't had a client all night, and we need the money. Don't let your fears hold you back. Just be yourself, and everything will be okay."

I relented, and as I approached him, he offered me a seat and a drink. We introduced ourselves, and he told me his name was Ndidalakwanji. We conversed, and I learned about his struggles with alcohol and his troubled marriage. He spoke softly and seemed gentle, unlike some of the other men I had met. He confided in me about his wife's infidelity and his struggles to find a job.

As the night wore on, we talked some more, and I found myself feeling comfortable around him. He was different from the other men I had met at the club. He didn't seem interested in just one thing; he genuinely wanted to get to know me. I opened up to him about my past, about the events that had led me to this place.

I told him about my childhood, about my loving family and how fate had torn us apart. I told him about my mother's passing, my sister's tragic death in a road accident, and my father's imprisonment. I told him about my uncle and aunt, who had taken me in but treated me poorly. I told him about how I had fled, with no choice but to turn to prostitution to survive.

He listened attentively, his eyes filled with empathy. He didn't judge me; he didn't try to offer solutions. He just listened, and for the first time in a long time, I felt heard.

But as the night wore on, he suddenly fell ill, and we rushed him to the hospital. I was shocked and scared as he was pronounced dead. The police took me in, and I was charged with murder. The judge sentenced me to 24 years in prison, a fate I still can't believe.

As I sit here in Magobo prison, I wonder why life has been so unfair to me. I think about my past, about the events that led me to this place. I think about Ndidalakwanji, and how he had shown me kindness and understanding in a world that seemed to have forgotten it.

I'm called a prostitute, a murderer, a convict, but deep down, I know I'm innocent. I'm a victim of circumstance, a survivor who was forced into a life I never wanted. I hope that someone out there will read my story and know the truth. I hope they'll understand that sometimes, life pushes us into corners, and we're forced to make choices we never thought we'd make.

I dream of a day when I'll be free, when I'll be able to start anew and leave this life behind.

---