The Prostitute: A Story

I checked into a 3 or 4 star hotel. I will not name it.

Bahrain.

I had driven for exactly 4.5 hours , gone through the checkpoints and driven to this hotel. It was 8 pm.

I entered the room , a junior suite in this hotel. The hotel employee put my stuff in the room. On my right was a “bar”. Medium sized bottles of every famous spirit you can think of. I opened the refrigerator. Beers and drinks.  Small sized bottles of every spirit you can think of. BOOZE.  These are goodies our youth drives to every weekend. LOL. I don’t drink though. Don’t like losing my mind for anything. Especially a liquid that will do nothing great for me. Plus, why do something that will work against me, both mentally and spiritually? Na..

Then the man took out a piece of paper and wrote down a list of room numbers and handed it to me. I asked him what this was. He said ” There is Arab, Russian, Romanian, Turkish and Bosnian girls in these rooms. You just call, and they will come. 50 BD for one time. 100 BD for an hour. 300 BD for all night. If you want more drinks, I will get for you sir. “.. and he left.

This was one of those rare trips I made alone. I never leave without my family. Mainly because I miss them so much that I cannot sleep at night. But, this was a short , work trip and I had no time for family – so I drove to Bahrain alone. I chose a cheap hotel because I was not in the ” resort” or “luxury” mode. I was in a ” Get it done and leave” mode.

I sat down on the sofa. Switched on the TV. Lit a cigarette. Ordered some coffee. And, I looked at that list. My mind drifted into the past. To Cyprus. When I was a student. When I was single. When a single smile from a beautiful girl made me and my friends sing songs all evening and look stupid. When , we were simple and pure. When, more than sex – being a HERO was important. When, we did stunts like jumping over huge barrels. Driving fast cars. Racing. Fighting. Being tough.

Now, let me tell you. I was never a very dedicated student. If I looked serious and focused in a  class, it was because I liked the subject and the teacher was good. Otherwise, I never cared for grades, degrees and the drama that comes with it. But, yes, I could study a NIGHT before an exam and get a B at least and get rid of the pressure of family and friends. ” YOU MUST STUDY”..

One such night , me and my 3 friends were studying for a DAMN BORING course: Economics 102. What a pain that course was! We sat there studying. Talking. Joking. Laughing. Then studying again. We got hungry. We all decided that I will go and buy us ” Submarines”.. a very delicious cheese sandwich. I was more than happy to leave. I got in my car and drove off to Eleftheria Square. The downtown of Nicosia. I wanted to buy smokes also. So, I drove into the old city where there was a 100-year-old mosque. The only Mosque in Nicosia. Right behind the Mosque was the Red Light Area. Cheap and quick service area where the low lives of Nicosia went for low-level , perverted pleasures. Middle aged women sat with doors open , selling themselves for 10-20 pounds.

It was cold. Late. And the night was scary. The area was scary. And I liked the thrill.

I was there , of course, to get cigarettes from a Kiosk right at the end of the “SUSU” road. That was the name of the Red Light area.

I drove in. Doors open on my right and left. Some ugly faces , some old women.. and some were beautiful to be very honest. I drove to the end of the road. Parked and got out to go buy my stuff. I had a Diahatsu Charment. Nothing was automatic in the car. I parked on the right side of the road, where the Right side “shops” had ended. On my left was the last “door” of that road.  A lady sat on a chair , smoking and looking at me. Probably thinking that a customer had arrived and he wanted to get something from the Kiosk before he engaged her. Much to her dismay, I bought what I needed and headed back to my car. At the time, that is how I saw it.

Tragedy!

I had locked the car keys INSIDE the car. The car was locked and keys in the ignition!

STUPID! UGH! DAMN!

I had done this before, and I knew I could open the door with a wire or a screwdriver. But, apart from the Perverts of society, Police used to patrol this road also and if they saw me sticking something inside the door of a locked car at this time of the night on this street, they WOULD stop and question me. And, I did not want that hassle. So, I thought I would wait for them for a while and let THEM resolve this issue for me. They could open the car. Cypriot police are very helpful to people. Just don’t let them catch you doing something wrong. Or even, something that looks wrong.

So , I stood there.

” What is wrong?”, she shouted. I was ignoring her so far. And, I knew she would give a shot to her marketing strategy. And, I thought this was it. But, HEY! I was about to do the Economics 102 exam the next day. I had been dealing with the Professor from Hell, this was nothing.

” I locked my keys in the car”..

” Do you want me to help you?  Shall I call the police? They will open it for you”

We had no mobile phones back then ( 1991). And, this was kind of her. So, I said .. yes, please do call them. She called. Hung up. ” They will pass by soon”, she smiled at me.

” Evpharisto Parrapolli” I said.. means: Thank you very much.

” Ineshe provlema manamo” .. No problem Darling. I looked away.

I stood there. She sat there. 5 minutes passed. Ten passed. No police. Lazy asses!

” Thelis cafe?” .. Do you want coffee , she said?

Oh HELL yes.. it was cold.

” Nai.. alla den boro.. ekseris ti..…” .. I said,   Sure.. but I cannot.. u know what..

She waved and told me to come.. made a sign that meant.. DON’T WORRY.

She put a chair near hers. There was a heater there. Made some coffee. And, at that moment.. there was no better place to sit.. so I sat there. Nice coffee, warm place. Nevertheless, a Prostitutes place. We sat right outside her door on the street. Cars passed. Bikes passed. I looked at her, she did not care. I told her that she was losing customers because of me, and I was of no benefit to her. She smiled and said ” You need help right now, customers are not important. Helping you is. It is cold and your mother will be so sad if you got sick, right? “. .. this really touched me.

” Why do you do this? “… I asked her.

” Good question.. do you have the heart to listen ? “..

“Yes, I do. I want to know”

” You know.. if you got all the prostitutes of the world in one place and asked them all who prefers to be in this business, maybe only 2 or 3 will say they do it because they like it. The rest do it either because they want drugs, or money for their kids and family. And, yes, some are forced into this by their own men. I have 4 kids. I am uneducated. My husband left me with my kids one day and I have not seen him since. For the first time in my life I went to work in a factory – I was almost raped several times. No one will educate me for free and I do not have time to study and get a better job. I have kids to look after. Honestly, I was left with no choice but this. I went to the Church, I got nothing. I went to every door I could knock on.. and look.. here I am. Doing this. At least, I can take care of my family and no one is my boss.

I saw you drive here and the first thing that came to my mind was.. Oh God! Why is this boy wasting his life in these streets? He should be home. Then I saw you get off to go to the Kiosk. I was happy. You were not interested in me or the other women here. Then, when I saw you had a problem and you were stuck, I thought of your mother. She must be worried about you. So, I offered to help. Then, I saw you were cold, so I made you coffee and offered you to sit near the heater”..

By this time, I was about to cry. I felt like an idiot with no brains.

” Do you want to call your mommy and tell her you are ok? Just don’t tell her you are on this road. Tell her your key is in the car and soon you will come. You know, my son is  almost 15″.. I was 21 then.

I could not stop a tear from rolling down my cheek.

” I am not Cypriot. I am a student here. My mother is in Saudi Arabia. She is not worried about this night, She is worried all the time”.. I said.. smiling slightly.

( the conversation was mainly in Greek..)…

” Oh My God!.. You are a foreign student? You speak good greek”

” I did not speak much, You did” , I said to her, ” And you really made me SEE”..

The police came.

” Ti enai o provlema sou re gumbaray.. “, said the officer.. What is it man? or something like that..

I told him. He smiled and said, Why did you not just use a wire and open the door. She stepped in. ” He did not because he did not want trouble from you guys!”..

They opened the door.

I finished my coffee. Thanked her.

” I will come and see you again . God Bless you. You are a GOOD person”

” Don’t come here! This street is not for you. You have bigger and better things to do”

” No, I will pass by sometimes to have coffee with you. You make this street look good! And who knows, Maybe I will help you get a better job”  She smiled.. and her eyes said : Yes, I want that. I wish that. Thank you for even thinking of getting me out of here!

Her name was Christina. She must have been 40 something.

I drove off. Weeping like a child. In her talk, I saw the pain in her eyes. The agony. The frustration. The broken dreams. The responsibility of her children. Their education. The Bills. A family.  A lonely , battered and broken woman forced to sell what no decent women would even want to show to a stranger!.. What PAIN! My biggest disappointment was my own ignorance. How could I EVER look down on someone? Someone so full of pain, yet willing to go out of her way to help someone!

I got busy with life. Finishing off the degree, getting my first job and then finally opened my first consulting firm in Nicosia. But I never forgot Christina.

One day, when I made my first GOOD profit, I did go to see her. I had money. I would get her out of it I thought. But, when I got there. Her door was locked. Gone. Maybe to another city. Another life.. or away from this life.. A prostitute that helped me for free, out of goodness. As a human being.

I tore the piece of paper with the room numbers. That same old tear of 1991 rolling down my cheek.

Yes, my friends.. the abuse of uneducated women has reached greater heights since 1991..

If you ever think of “Buying” a woman for the night.. know that she is someone’s daughter, sister and mother. She too cries..feels pain. She too has dreams. She too wants to live a clean life. The only way you can stop this dirty business is by not contributing to it. Marry. Marry 1, 2 , 3 or four. But, please do not take advantage of someone’s poverty and need for money. Do not ever do that.

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33 thoughts on “The Prostitute: A Story

  1. Dear Ali,

    Reading this its get deep in to my heart, and you are really lucky guy who have seen such incidence in life. This will teach lot in our life for better society. Try to find her and help he if possible. I will always support.

  2. Jazak Allah,

    You are right about women who is working as ——–, but ot be honest you would hardly find men, respection woman. your family thought you to respect people, but other would just think she wants money, I have use to chat with a girl who worked and was forced by her boss, saying she would loose her job if she didn’t do what he wanted and why should I lie i was also asked number of time from a Shaikh and business man but alhamdullah I did took care of my self by leaving the job and my japanese boss respected me for that and kept me working for his company. If you want to see many are promised to come down in middle east and work , but are forced in this business.

    God bless you

    regards

  3. Feeling very guilty……may Allah bless all of us, the writer, the readers, everyone. There are millions of Christinas all around the world, and we are doing nothing but taking advantage of them.
    What will be our answer to Allah during the final judgement?

  4. its not Christians nor Muslims is the culprit, It human being lust towards flesh..Awareness about pros life should be made more popular like this, so that human should understand how a prostitute is born.May the story like this make us spend atleast 10% of earning to poor and needy, THEN ONLY ”ANY GOD” WILL LISTEN TO OUR PRAYER…..ANY GOD..

  5. To be honest, if our wives gave us our needs like we give them theirs (spending on them, protecting them, being good to them and bringing them gifts, taking them on trips) we would never ever consider sleeping with a prostitute, but women now a days are a pain

    I have been married for 6 years (I am Saudi as well), she doesnt cook, doesnt clean (the maid should do those disgusting things according to her), and our love life is maybe once or twice a month if I am super lucky.

    As a man with actual NEEDS, I can do nothing but stray and that is the sad thing. and I know I am not the only guy that is in this situation but its the majority of us guys that end up doing things they never imagined they would be forced to do.

    Not all of us can afford to marry 2,3, or 4 … and one pain in the ass cant be made better by adding 2,3 or 4 more pains in the ass :P

    God help us, I joke, but this i really frustrating and hurting me, and the amount of sadness and stress it causes me I know will send me to the hospital sooner or later.

    I have never used a prostitute before, but I think I will have to , 6 years and nothing has gotten better no matter what I tried, her mood only got worse with time and I ended up with ulcers, acid reflux, hair falling, horrible sleeping.

  6. Jazakallah Khairun …It was an eye opener ..though i have never done such thing in my life…but stories like these can prevent people like me who are young to avoid such a situation in near future in sha allah :)

  7. Really very heart touching…
    Many men say they love a girl but Infact most of them want to fulfill their lust n argue back defending themself’s why dint u stop me? You should ‘ve have stopped if u didn’t like. Fact a men wil never understand is, that a girl always Luks for a men, who by himself realizes that he shldnt misbehave with her but not stop misbehaving when she asks him to. Bcoz she loves him so much that she gets hurt inside still let him get what he wants.
    Very few men care n respect a girl’s feelings.

    Reason I’m saying all this bcoz I felt you are very good that u rolled tears for a prostitute n felt sorry for judging her…. There r bunch of men who wouldn’t care for a girl who loves n trusts them…but jus use them for entertainment. Everyone should realize that women r not a tool for entertainment. They should be treated with respect. Situations put people in weird circumstances, so one shldnt judge anyone.

  8. This story touched my heart and renewed my faith in Muslim men. I was a prostitute for many years mainly because i was so messed up after being gang raped as a virgin at 16 years old by three Muslim men who spat on me and called me Kafir (which at the time I didn’t understand.) I spent many years working as an escort and in hostess clubs and met many many Arab men who paid a lot of money to use my body. Eventually after being raped again and almost killed by a client I was so in need of God that I went to the nearest church where the Priest suggested I should leave as I was dressed too sexy and as I was Church of England not Catholic. When I stood up I noticed I had knelt and prayed under the image of Mary Magdalene washing Jesu’s’ feet. This for me was a huge sign and started me on a journey to re discover God, which resulted in my studying different religions including Islam.

    Eventually I became convinced that Islam was the only choice and so I converted.
    After several years as a devoted and practicing Muslim, I learnt Arabc and married a Muslim man, who left me when his family caused him too many problems. I then met another one and married him too, and had a child, a little girl who is now 7. He too divorced me when I was pregnant as he said our marriage was mainly for sex (halal sex) and his main wife would not accept it.

    I became very sick, and had to leave and return to London as I ould not afford health care in the Middle East as I could no longer work and he was not paying any maintenance. Once back home in London I became more sick, and eventually had a mental breakdown as my eldest daughter (who was then 17), was thinking of becoming an Escort girl to help with money and to help me to bring up her little sister. This wa too much for me, so I thought maybe it would be better to do it myself, and so i went out to a 5* hotel with the intention of meeting a rich Arab (as I had done in the past) better me than my child was my thought. In the end I couldn’t go through with it, and also couldn’t face the situation at home so I lost grip on reality and was eventually sectioned and placed in a Mental institution.

    My eldest daughter was put in a hostel by Social Services where she met prostitutes and drug dealers and my youngest daughter was taken away by social workers. They eventually contacted her father and went to meet him, told him all about my past life, which he never knew and then said he could not have his daughter as she did not know him. For almost a year she was kept away from me while my lawyers faught to get her back and thank God I won.

    Even though I won and the judge gave back custody Social Services would not leave us alone. Also, my eldest daughter became pregnant and they even threatened to take her child at birth if she allowed me to be alone with it. now thank God she is OK as the father (A good man, but a Catholic has stood by her and she now has a job and they are fine although she is very mixed up about her faith.

    Social workers continued to insist on being involved in our lives, and kept trying to re open the case as they were not happy with the verdict. The stress was making me worse still and my little girl was traumatized and so eventually I left to Italy where I now live and teach English & French. I am still very sick with diabetes and last year I had two heart attacks so working is very tiring and not easy but I have no choice. For around two years now my daughter’s father has been paying 200 euros monthly which is not really much, but he says he can not afford more so why bother to insist as for 5 years he paid nothing at all. He has still not seen her since we left when she was 18 months and does not call her. She cries for him almost daily.

    I have somewhat lost my way with my religion and do not practice as strongly and dedicated as I should. My daughter attends a Catholic school ( only one school here) and although I try to teach her as best as I can about Islam it is hard. I excluded her from religion classes at school, but she keeps asking to attend with her class mates and asks to go to church.

    God help me as my faith remains as strong as before but I feel so isolated and alone. I can’t write any more as I am crying now.

    It takes a very strong and devout man to marry more than one wife and do so in the right way. Also, it is very hard to be a covert all alone. This should not be the case I guess but in my experience it is the reality.

    I think the real reason that I was and still am sick mentally sometimes is because I am so ashamed of having been a prostitute and can’t really overcome the pain of it. Prostitution ruins lives of all involved; but if men didn’t pay, women wouldn’t do it. In all things it’s about supply and demand. The demand has always been too great to eradicate the supply

    • You are not mentally unstable nor are you to feel guilty about anything. Your comment is enough to prove that. You are a brave woman and an honorable woman and you have shared here what most would not even dare to talk about. I respect you and honor you for this!
      Those “muslim” men are a disgrace to Islam. Certain people should not be called muslims because it is an insult to Islam.
      You conclude your comment with the greatest fact of all: if men don’t pay, there will be no prostitutes. I hold men responsible for causing pain to so many women for no reason but their lust, which they are to tame as muslims.
      You, Jowhera, are an honorable and respectable woman..and you have been wronged. Do not feel otherwise, this is the reality.

  9. Thank you. I would like to add that they were not of corse all Muslim men. I guess it seems worse to me somehow as most of the ones i met profess to fear Allah and uphold many Muslim traditions, even prayer and Ramadan etc.

    It’s hypocritical the way that outwardly they appear to be Muslim and to follow the religion; whereas most Christians, especially in UK and many Northern European countries nowadays don’t even bother to have anything to do with God,, or to give any consideration to what is acceptable behavior according to the church. So it is harder to condemn them when they do not believe that what they are doing is even sinful. Muslims on the other hand, are in my experience fairly constant in accepting that it’s wrong, but just do it anyway.

    What angers me most is the contradictory image it gives about Islam, particularly in a climate where the West is constantly looking for any excuse to criticize Islam and its followers.

    One of the things that I like about Italy, is that almost everyone is a believer in God and many still attend church. However, The number of young people who cohabit instead of getting married is steadily growing even here.

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