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And for the next 10 minutes, I am all his.

I try not to contemplate over how I got here and who I’ve become. I am who I am, and there’s nothing I can do. Sometimes, when I have courage to reflect, I feel utter shame and revulsion for my existence and for the things I do…and regretfully did. I’m alone, I have no one, no family, no community to seek acceptance. Occasionally, I do find comfort in knowing that my circumstances leave me no choice. But please, Allah, I ask you to not remind me of the past, my foolish youth, my simple, more pleasant life. I know…I know my wrongdoings. Yet all I did was love- too much love I suppose. So much that was blind to the deception that came forth and stripped me of my dignity…disowned from my identity. Oh Allah, I ask you to give me the strength to abandon these harsh memories, for they are unbearable…

I’m sitting in the showroom right now, 10 pm, and business is just about to boom. The room is enclosed with mirrors and pearly white tiles. Girls are teeming in, some young, some old, some fair, some tall, a whole variety. The fluorescent lights are beaming, brightening all our faces in an eerie glow. The room is almost too white to bear, but critical for our appearance. I chose to wear my black skirt and shirt ornamented with crystals.  My hair is pulled back to reveal my silver hoop earrings. I made sure to wear my bright red lipstick glazed with a bit of gloss-it’s my secret charm to so many clients. I hear the jingling of a nupur (anklet)-oh, it’s Shahida walking in! She looks flushed, ah, must’ve been with a persistent client. She gives me a grin, and gently flips out a hefty 500 taka bill and says,“It’s from Bilal. He’s been coming for me every week. The black garment market pays him well…” I playfully kick her in the shin, but it’s true, Bilal has been keen on spending  his nights with her…

I notice a man walking by. Young man, no older than 25 wearing a red shirt and black pants, cigarette in his right hand. Judging from his looks, must be a local cab driver. He’s speaking with the hotel manager…obviously negotiating prices. He doesn’t seem pleased…but now he’s nodding in agreement. I see him drawing bills from his pocket… 100 taka…200 taka…300 taka…400 taka…oh my! The hotel manager gestures him to the glass window of our room. He peers inside, examining each and every one of us…I suppose imagining the possibilities. One by one…one by one. His gaze pauses at the girl next to me-a skinny, flat-chested 13 year-old. He couldn’t possibly want that unattractive rat! But wait-his eyes are now on me! I adjust my posture so he can perceive a clearer view. He stares. Keeps staring…is he alright? His eyes haven’t faltered! Seconds pass, and I notice an ever so slight nod towards to hotel manager, but his eyes remain fixed. The manager wastes no time in his response. He opens the door, looks at me, and points his thumb out the door. “Room 23!”, he shouts. I hastily snatch a few condoms and a packet of lubricant I picked up from the local health center earlier this morning. I’m out the door.

He’s following me down the hall, I can hear his breath and virtually feel his eyes following my spine. Our room is down the hall to the left, just a few meters to go. I quietly slip a condom in his hand. He has 10 minutes with me, and I know he won’t want to waste a moment. A couple more feet to go…I see a cleaner picking up loose condom and lubricant packets from room 20…

We’ve arrived at room 23. A standard room: one bed, one bathroom, and one light bulb illuminating the stained brown walls. Our shadows slip in, silently shifting in the flickering pale yellow gloom. He shuts the door and I feel his hand slip up my neck.

And for the next 10 minutes, I am all his.

 

I started with this monologue because I felt it was critical background in understanding the female hotel sex worker in Bangladesh. Just a few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to visit an Integrated Health Center (IHC) sponsored by Bangladesh Women’s Health Coalition (BWHC) and Family Health International (FHI). This establishment provides sexually transmitted infection treatment, general healthcare, and HIV testing for women in this profession. I’ll be going back tomorrow and next week to observe more of the healthcare aspect of the institution. My first day was primarily catered to listening to these women’s stories and visiting an actual hotel involved with this business. I sort of culminated this story based upon the stories and attitudes I heard-and also after seeing actual hotel rooms, clients, and sex workers at a nearby hotel. It was nauseating, but an incredibly valuable experience as a young Bangaldeshi woman. The first response the general Bangladeshi population has for this marginalized community is, “I never knew.” I know this for a fact because that is exactly how my greater family responded. Regardless, I hope to gain more information about this phenomenal community and how HIV/AIDS is being combated within its context. I intend to post this blog as a prelude of what more is to come.

I’m looking forward to revisiting these sites in the next few days. Due to tensions with the government (afterall, sex trade is illegal in Bangladesh), I may have difficulty in taking pictures of the actual hotels. But I’ll do my best to negotiate and bring more stories.

Wish me good luck!
A BWHC peer educator-a former sex worker-now spends her time at the fields to find and inform other sex workers of safe sex practices. Pictorials are one of the many ways they initiate their outreach sessions.

A BWHC peer educator-a former sex worker-now spends her time at the fields to find and inform other sex workers of safe sex practices. Pictorials are one of the many ways they initiate their outreach sessions.

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  1. Pingback/Trackback
    August 5, 2009 at 12:02 pm

    Valuable Internet Information » And for the next 10 minutes, I am all his.

  2. E Aboyeji / August 5, 2009

    Really good article.

    Still I doubt that teaching “safe sex practices” goes far enough. The government should be notified and the trade must stop!

    Give them the training for now but I don’t think doing this and leaving them with condoms or things of the sort goes far enough. This is illegal and there has to be a way of ensuring the Bangladeshi government gets the political will to prosecute people who demand these.

  3. Adnan / August 5, 2009

    Anchol, I am curious how easy it was for you to find the hotel and talk to clients.

    Brilliant post!

  4. Semonti / August 7, 2009

    Thanks Adnan Bhai!

    I acutally visit these hotels through the FHI office. They have a running list of all the hotels in this business so that they can maximize their services. I’m usually escorted by 3-4 people when I visit, so I’m relatively safe. I think it’s important that people SEE the conditions of the workers and clients-so I’m will to take the risk!

  5. Adnan / August 7, 2009

    Glad to hear that you feel safe. What I actually meant to ask is how covert are these hotel operations? If you were to go alone (i.e. without FHI folks) could you find these hotels?

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