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There was one source of extra
income available Khedra mentioned that Ana had no difficulty in contemplating,
and that was to escort prisoners on the privileged day release they were deemed
to have earned. So it was that Ana found herself on Sunday morning escorting
Ferhana to the Cathedral of Blad, a privilege readily granted in recognition of
her positive attitude and good behaviour. It seemed to Ana a fairly pleasant
way to earn extra pay at time and a quarter.
She met
Ferhana in the foyer of the Brothel, where for all but the administrative staff
it was just a normal day. Ana was dressed in the same clothes she’d worn for
her interview, and scarcely recognised Ferhana in the
modest and demure clothes she was wearing. Her dress was made of dark purple
crush velvet and covered her from her neck, where it constrained her throat,
down to her ankle boots. She was waiting for Ana with the Brothel Chaplain, a
small leather handbag clasped to her side.
Chadora,
the chaplain, was a short woman of medium build who wore the dark heavy clothes
of her profession, her head covered by a modest cap and a cross secured around
her neck and dangling over her breast. Her duties kept her very busy, Ana had
heard, as so many prostitutes felt the need for her spiritual advice and for someone
to listen to their confessions. She smiled as Ana approached.
“You’ve
come in good time,” she laughed. “We’ve got enough time to walk to the
cathedral. It’s a nice sunny day.” She beckoned to Ferhana. “Come along, dear.
It must be quite a time since you last had a day outside the brothel walls.”
“It must be
more than a month,” Ferhana admitted.
They strode
out of the foyer, which was very quiet this early in the morning. There was
only one man milling around - clearly undecided as to whether to take advantage
of the Brothel’s services - and the receptionists were laughing and chatting
over idle computer screens and Sunday morning papers. Ana enjoyed Sundays in
the city of
Ferhana
paused and blinked as they left the main entrance, accustoming herself to the
greater expanse of space that welcomed them. The sky was clear, and the office
buildings opposite cast well-defined shadows.
“Have you
ever been to the Cathedral, Ana dear?” wondered Chadora.
“No, not at all! I’ve seen the photographs. It
looks enormous!”
“It is
indeed. The people of Blad have expressed their devotion in great style and
dignity. Let’s see! The best way there is probably down there.” She indicated a
broad avenue leading to the right. “Right! Let’s get
going. We don’t want to be late for the service.”
The three
walked along, with Ferhana unusually mute, presumably lost in her own thoughts.
Ana didn’t want to interrupt her reverie, so she chatted with Chadora. The
chaplain was very interested in how Ana was fitting in with brothel life.
“It must be
a very strange place to be working as a secretary.”
“No more so
than as a chaplain, I’d have thought.”
“Oh! Not at
all! There’s been a very long tradition of religious devotion amongst those engaged
in what they call the oldest profession. It’s not for me to say why I believe
that should be so, just as it isn’t for me to pass comment on the girls’ chosen
careers. There are undoubtedly stresses and uncertainties that their kind of
work brings them, and I hope that in my capacity as their spiritual advisor I
can bring a measure of comfort to their lives.”
“It’s not a
chosen career for all of us,” commented Ferhana slightly bitterly.
Ana looked
at her companion, wondering if she could tell from her face what her feelings
were; but Ferhana’s face had relaxed into an inscrutable smile.
“Indeed
not, Ferhana dear,” agreed Chadora. “And it is a special duty which I am proud
to make available to those who have not exactly entered the brothel by choice.
In fact, Ana, I’d say that the majority of my time is spent counselling
prostitutes who are serving penal sentences.”
“Do you
ever see Binta?”
“Binta?” wondered
Chadora. “There are several girls here with that name. Which Binta do you
mean?”
“She means
her friend. The lesbian from Jebel. The girl she
spends so much time chatting with in the canteen and in her room.”
Ana blushed. She hadn’t thought that her
friendship with Binta had attracted so much attention. Was Ferhana expressing
resentment at Ana’s friendship? If so, her face didn’t express any sign of it.
And anyway, Ana reflected, why should Ferhana or anyone else mind that she was
developing such a close friendship? She had no friends in Blad other than those
she had made at the Brothel.
“Binta. Yes, I know. I’ve seen her.
From a distance, that is. But she’s never come to see me for spiritual
guidance. Unusual in a way, because it is often girls serving time for sexual
misdemeanours such as the ones she’s committed that are most solicitous of my
time. Theirs is a difficult sin for me to counsel - particularly as sections of
the Church are undecided about the nature of it. Some,
and I won’t claim to be one of them, say that it isn’t the rôle of either the
church or state to give more than advice on such behaviour.”
“What do
you say to lesbians when they see you?” wondered Ana.
Chadora
looked steadily at Ana, as if to assess her feelings. “I tell them that the
church’s rôle in Alif is to urge compliance to the law and that it is not for
us to ever suggest that anyone should in any way diverge from that proper
observance. I tell them that they must repress any criminal tendencies they may
have, and if they find this difficult to seek guidance in the message of Jesus
Christ Our Saviour. I do not tell them that their behaviour is wrong or sinful.
That is for them to find in their understanding of the Holy Scriptures.”
“Just as
you don’t condemn me for drinking alcohol,” laughed Ferhana.
“Well, you
don’t drink any these days, do you, Ferhana dear. Not that you could even if
you wanted to. But please don’t misunderstand me. I know that there is a
difference between complying with the law from agreement with its virtue and
from fear of its penalties. I hope that all the wards in my spiritual care
learn to observe it willingly and not from sufferance.”
“Would you
condemn Binta for being a lesbian?”
“Whatever
your friend has done in the past is something for which she is already punished.
I can do no more than help her, if she came to me, in facing up to her sentence
in the brothel; and if she asked me for guidance in mending her tendencies
towards criminal sexual behaviour I would give her all the assistance it is in
my power to give. But less of that! Look at the wonderful sight of the
Cathedral.”
Chadora
indicated its massive bulk that lay ahead of them in a large public square
populated mostly by pigeons and the odd Sunday stroller. A statue of President
Marmeluke stood at its centre, striking a heroic gesture towards the flying
buttresses, spires and gargoyles of the Cathedral. Ana had never in her life
seen such a majestic building. The towers had such grandeur, the stones
composing it were so massive and the dome at the top looked as if it could hold
several of the churches she was so much more familiar
with.
“You may
wonder why prostitutes and criminals alike find comfort from religion,” Chadora
continued thoughtfully as they wandered across the massive square. “There are
two main reasons I feel. One is that Jesus Christ has promised forgiveness for
our sins, if we truly repent them. For criminals such as Ferhana and your
friend, Binta, the true forgiveness offered to us by Our Saviour is undeniably
of comfort. For other prostitutes, whose work is hardly illegal, it is more
difficult to explain why they desire Jesus’ forgiveness. However, just because
something is legal or even encouraged by the state does not necessarily make
that thing virtuous. There are many prostitutes who regard the practice of
prostitution as necessarily sinful despite the approval given it by our
government, and it is to salve their consciences that they look to Christ’s
forgiveness.
“The other
reason, I believe, is the comfort and succour that Christ offers all believers
in the promise of a better life in the hereafter. The life of the prostitute
can be a hard one. I know from my counselling that it brings great distress and
some pain to some of my wards. Their hope is that their devotion to Jesus
Christ will be rewarded in the afterlife and that in this way their lives will
not be merely ones of suffering, with the constant anxiety of how their
performance and appearance rating becomes inevitably downgraded as they age.
However, let us think now of the glory of Jesus Christ and His love for us, as
we enter this hallowed place.”
Chadora led
Ana and Ferhana through the wide and tall open doors into the interior of the
Cathedral, which impressed Ana more than the outside. The ceiling was so high!
It was a wonder it didn’t collapse. But she noted with relief the many columns
and beams, and how very substantial they were. The Cathedral was illuminated by
beams of sunlight radiating through stained glass windows high above, which
cast a magical kaleidoscope of colour at their feet. As if this light were not
enough, thousands of candles were lit all around them, including some on a
massive candelabrum supported by a long cable to the very tip of the dome and
dangling yards above their heads. Chadora and Ferhana crossed themselves
solemnly as they walked down the wide aisle looking for available seats amongst
the already very full congregation. The echoing music of an enormous organ came
from all directions. Its source was high above them where a small figure was
massaging the many pedals with his feet.
The service
matched the cathedral in its grandeur and pomp. Every aspect of the service
outmatched those she was familiar with in
Ferhana and
Chadora prayed with a fervour and solemnity that made Ana’s own observance seem
relatively insincere. She watched Ferhana’s bowed head as she devoutly murmured
“Amen!”, cross herself as she raised herself and gazed
with dignity at the priest who had raised his hands above his head. Ana
listened intently to the service which related to some text in the Apocrypha
she’d never heard of before, wondering at the trails of logic that led the
minister towards his message of devotion and love. Ferhana nodded at critical
moments to particular aspects of the sermon she found especially profound. If
Ana hadn’t known what Ferhana’s life mostly consisted of, she would never have
suspected it of such an apparently Christian young woman.
After the
service, Ferhana wandered towards the confessionals while the rest of the
congregation filed out, following the example of the priest and his retinue of choristers
and lesser ministers. Chadora crossed herself and smiled at Ana.
“A good
service, don’t you think? Are they like this in your own town, Ana dear?”
“Not as
impressive, I’m afraid.”
“I suppose
not. But I suspect the devotion of the congregation in
“What do
you mean?”
“I have
observed that the church’s doctrine is most well observed outside the big city.
I have always been very inspired by the devotion expressed in the provinces, as
if there were an inverse relationship between the pomp and ceremony, and the
meaning it has in people’s lives. Too many of this congregation will feel that
they have now expiated any need for devotion beyond that which they have
already expressed, and will, like Ferhana, return to their lives untroubled by
any Christian concerns.”
“I’m sure
that’s not totally true,” Ana remarked uncertainly, “although
people in
“Well, not
hypocritical as such. Just busy. But I confess I am
rather cynical. It may be because of my own experiences that I became a
chaplain: to become more wholly involved in the practice of my faith.”
“What were
you before?”
“I was a
prostitute, I’m afraid.”
“A prostitute?” Ana found it very difficult
to believe. Chadora was very much the opposite of what she believed a prostitute
would ever be like.
“I worked
at the State Brothel in Blad. Not like Ferhana. Not as a criminal who has been
sentenced to it, but wholly from choice. I was attracted by the money and the
lifestyle. Like many prostitutes, however, I became interested in the church.
It addressed so well those parts of my soul that the trade of prostitution
neglects. I felt that it was demeaning me and that my motives were less from a
desire to give pleasure and more to earn a good living. So I handed in my
stilettos and stockings and took up the cloth instead. It’s not a decision I
regret, and I am now ideally suited to serve the needs of my wards.”
Ana was a
little embarrassed by this confession. She wasn’t at all sure what response was
appropriate. Chadora noted her uncomfortable silence.
“I’m
certainly not the first prostitute to have turned to the faith for comfort and
guidance. It is said that Lady Magdalene was herself a prostitute before Jesus Christ
brought her to see the light. He promised forgiveness to those who sought
salvation in His message, and many other ex-prostitutes have become active in
the church. Many, it must be said, wait until age has sufficiently devalued
their market value before they make such a decision - but their choice is no
less sincere for that.”
“Do you
think Ferhana will do the same?”
Chadora
smiled ruefully. “Much as I would like to say she would, I don’t believe she
wishes to express her devotion so completely. She is also not one who believes
that the practice of prostitution or indeed alcohol smuggling is inconsistent
with a devout faith.”
When
Ferhana returned from her confession, smiling cheerfully as if a great weight
had been lifted from her shoulders, Chadora remarked that she had some other
business to attend to at the Cathedral and wouldn’t be able to return to the
Brothel with them. “I’m sure, however, that Ferhana can be trusted to stay with
you.” She squeezed Ana’s hand affectionately. “I hope to see you again in the
Brothel. Perhaps in a spiritual capacity if you ever need it.”
Ferhana and
Ana left through the enormous doors of the Cathedral. She was hushed by the
deadening immensity of the consecrated ground, now echoing only with the
occasional conversation of the visitors.
“When
Chadora has said that I can be trusted to stay with you,” Ferhana remarked,
“she has said that knowing that I am black and in the city of
The two
girls sat on a bench at the edge of the square, Ferhana with her small handbag
placed delicately on her lap and an enthusiastic smile on her dark face. “I
hope you are liking your work at the Brothel, Ana?”
“I’m
getting used to it. And I’m making friends there.”
“I hope you
will think that I may be a friend of yours. I am glad you have made such good
friends with Binta. She is so lonely, I think. She hates the work and she needs
the comfort of friends who are not also prostitutes. I’m sure it makes her life
seem so much better.”
“Do you
hate working at the Brothel as much as Binta?”
“I hate it.
That is true. But I hate it less than Binta. She hates it not only because the
work is so bad. She hates it also because she does not like to make love with
men. I am better than her at thinking it as just a job. Not a job that pays
well, or at all, but a job for all that. For that I am treated very well by the
director and his close associates. Binta will never even pretend to like the
job - and for that she will never improve her PAR. But Binta is like me. She is
at the Brothel because she has broken the law. Not because she has chosen to
work there.”
“You were
sentenced for alcohol smuggling, weren’t you?”
“Yes, that
is true. I have made much money importing spirits and wine from my home country
into Alif. In Haj alcohol is freely available and here it is not. It was such a
simple matter to bring alcohol in, and so many people wish to pay much money
for it. For a while, I was rich and I have met many interesting people. Many of
these people are the same people who condemn me now. But when I was free to
sell them whisky, gin or vodka, they were very friendly. Often they have
encouraged me. ‘Bring some rum’ they would say. ‘I want a litre of best
whiskey.’ ‘I want two litres of gin.’ Now, if they see me they will look away.
When I was rich, I lived in a very nice flat in Blad. I had many friends who
would visit me. I could afford many expensive things. But soon I was
discovered. The police arrested me and they sentenced me to the Brothel. I had
friends who worked as prostitutes and I thought it may not be so bad. But I
still hate it. I hate the customers and I hate the way I have to dress and have
to be nice to them.”
Ferhana
looked up at the Cathedral ahead of them where a party of children in smart
clothes was being escorted by a matronly woman and where pigeons rose in a
sudden flurry of wings to avoid them. They circled around and then descended
back to almost exactly the point from which they had taken off.
“I did not
go to church when I was dealing alcohol. I believed, of course. All my family
in Haj are very religious. And I do not believe that my trade was at all
contrary to my faith. Now I am in the Brothel, however, I find the church a
great comfort. It is like finding a friend whom I have not spoken to for a very
long time. Whatever I do now, however horrid the clients may be, I know that
God watches over me and that He cares for me.”
“Do you
regret selling alcohol?”
“I regret
being discovered. I had such a very good life. Especially compared to the
poverty in Haj where, although we can drink as much alcohol as we like, life is
much harder than here. There is great poverty. Most people live only from the
riches of the land. It is no wonder that there is such a dedicated following of
Jesus Christ. His message of Love and Forgiveness in this life and forever
after is very appealing. It is strange though that in Haj where so few can
afford it there is so much alcohol, and here where
everyone can afford it there is none. It is a strange world.”
“Are there
many countries where alcohol’s legal?” wondered Ana, who craved to know more of
what it was actually like. All she knew was from films
where alcohol drinkers were shown to be a very villainous lot who after only a
little resorted to either violent behaviour or lethargic idiocy. She knew it
came in strange shaped bottles and was the same colour as urine, but since the
films she saw were only those permitted in Alif she didn’t know how closely
they resembled reality.
“There
aren’t that many countries where it’s actually illegal. There are a few where
it’s actively discouraged, but no one ever gets sent to jail - or a brothel -
for selling it, let alone for drinking it. But I don’t know why your President
Marmeluke is so keen that it remains illegal here. I do know that many people
quite closely associated with his government are illicit consumers, not that I
could ever prove it.”
“And now
you are in the Brothel for your crimes...”
“Yes. I
wish I were elsewhere. But not in one of your country’s
horrible jails. Many people have told me about them. I am at least
forewarned when my body is to be violated, and there is a freedom that I would
cherish greatly if I were chained in a cell all day. Binta may complain - as I
know she does - of how horrid her life is. In a prison it is much worse,
although in a woman’s jail she would at least meet many other lesbians.”
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