ONE profession which society has battled with is prostitution. Prostitutes can’t be stopped in their tracks. Soldiers have tried, policemen have doubled and redoubled to keep them off the streets. But the prostitute is like the cockroach. Sack it from the kitchen and it moves to the toilet where it can enjoy self-contained facilities. Drive it away from there and it scurries to the bedroom to become the landlord.

Prostitutes can live on land and sea. They are mysterious and defy gravity, a feat—even birds of the air have not successfully accomplished. They can change form and appear as bar girls; they dress like students; act like scholars and speak Oxford English. They are also like the chameleon but once their clients can identify them, no problem. The Sikaman prostitute normally enters the business as an amateur, having been introduced by a professional or a caricature of a pimp. But she learns quickly.

In a short time, she is able to take any size without wailing, unless of course the size is “international”.

Prostitutes are of every tribe, height, weight, colour and notoriety. These days, some are well-schooled with diplomas and degrees. They enter into the world’s oldest profession due to factors ranging from poverty to nymphomania.

Most prostitutes in Sikaman are often not sophisticated in outlook and modus operandi. Often, they easily betray themselves with their gaudy appearance, over-painted faces, skimpy skirts, cigarette in hand, walking with that kind of bottom-wriggling gait that can instantly turn a devoted clergyman into a he-goat.

In developed countries like Spain, prostitution takes different forms. Apart from those you can grab from the cheap bars and ghettos for single night stands and those managed by shameless pimps, there are some who are organised by well-established syndicates and specialised agencies.

If you need a girl for the night, you only have to telephone an agency, describing the kind and breed you want—race, height, size, colour (chocolate?), rudeness, smoking type, strip-teasing, shyness, whatever.

You give your address and the girl on time. You pay by the hour and cost per hour can make you feel dizzy without falling down. You’ll still be steady for the showdown.

The girls have been trained to use tricks and communication skills to make their clients spend several hours without really doing anything. A typical prostitute will make you drink, chat at length (they are very knowledgeable), cook for you, bathe you and breast-feed you. That takes some three hours and you have to pay if you still want her services.

If you grow a bit wiser and protest, and insist vehemently that you are tired of being babied and want some real action now, she’ll do another hour of strip-tease and belly-dance by which time you’re either bored or charged to bursting point.

And finally you will do it but never without a condom. And the kind of condom she’ll give you can’t be torn by any knife around the globe, not even okapi. Before you’re finally through, you’ve got some five-hour helluva bill to pay. Next time round, you’ll think twice and go in for the cheap-side who’ll even allow you to do it without condoms if you are tired of living and want to die of AIDS.

In Sikaman, apart from those who operate from hotels and bars, some operate in private homes. The clients come and line-up, each with a hard-on. When the queue is not moving fast some begin to sweat because they have a very low sexual boiling point. If they are not ushered in quickly they can cause problems.

They’ll start grunting and stamping and can disrupt the peaceful and orderly procedure. As it were, such clients need priority attention so that they do not cause a riot and disturb the public peace.

Incidentally, prostitutes don’t like dealing with such clients because they are bad business. They have no biblical patience at all. They rush too much, and that was why a prostitute once asked a client whether he was a Russian because he rushed a bit too much and messed up things.

Prostitution in Sikaman has taken a new turn. Girls as little as sixteen are selling their bodies sometimes with the passive connivance of their mothers. When the girls go out at 9.00 p.m. and return at 3.00 a.m, their mothers let them in without asking questions. Next day, the house is properly fed from the proceeds of the night adventure and everybody is happy and nobody talks. If you talk, no breakfast for you tomorrow morning.

The police are doing quite a job trying to get them off the streets but they go and return just like the cockroach. Many of them are surely agents for the transmission of the AIDS virus because they permit clients to forgo the condom. They only have to pay extra for the “raw” service.

Now, the idea of legalising prostitution has been a very controversial one. If prostitutes can hardly be gotten off the streets since they are defiant and are now very many, why not legalise the profession, issue licences (not to kids), offer them health services and health education, teach them how to protect themselves and others from sexually transmitted diseases and then compel them to pay tax?

That would force children out of the trade because the legal operators will themselves force out the kids who will be competing with them. They would even assist the police to kick out the 15 and 16 year olds.

If a bad phenomenon cannot be wiped out, a way must be found to make it less and less harmless, so that while it doesn’t benefit society in any grand way, it does not also harm it.

Any suggestions?

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It is like a dream looking back to December 2024, which is exactly 12 months ago. Another year has come to find us so soon. It appears there is someone holding time in his hands, whirling or spinning the days—like how we used to tie a stone to a rope and spin it around as children.

I have been raising this issue of days and weeks passing quickly, and several people have noticed this phenomenon. I recall attending the 31st night and making declarations, seeing 2026 far away. All of a sudden, 2026 is just around the corner. In a couple of weeks, we will be celebrating Christmas, and traffic has already started building up on the streets of Accra—an annual ritual.

Whether you have money or not, being alive and kicking is the greatest gift from God. Pay a visit to the major hospitals in Accra, and you will agree that God has been good to you. We must appreciate what the Lord has done for us as children of God. A careful consideration of how far God has brought us will lead us to recognize His goodness.

Some expectations require extra effort to make them happen. Some may demand additional courses, discipline in time management, more prayer, or fasting to receive wisdom from God.

Last Tuesday, I read a news item about a fatal accident where a man walking with his dog was hit by a 41-year-old woman driving recklessly. She went on to crash into a pole. We often take it for granted that we will go to work and return home safely, but safety is not guaranteed without God’s protection. According to MTTD statistics, over 2,000 people have lost their lives in road accidents this year alone. The fact that you are alive is reason enough to be grateful for God’s protection.

While most of your expectations may not yet be realized, remember that where there is life, there is hope. Avoid focusing solely on what has not happened; instead, recognize the wonderful things God has done in your life and the lives of your family. Consider the story of a lady who lost her child shortly after sending them to school. Putting yourself in her shoes helps to understand the grace and protection you have experienced.

Recognize that the Lord who has brought you this far has something wonderful for you in the days and year ahead. Stay blessed.

NB: Kotoka International Airport to Kofi Baako International Airport.

By Laud Kissi-Mensah