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“Breakfast!” greeted Ketaba
cheerfully, announcing her presence in the bedroom where Ana was sleeping. Ana
cautiously opened her eyes and looked at her naked friend towering above carrying
a tray adorned with fruit juice, muesli and toast. “I thought you might
appreciate some breakfast, Ana!”
Ana smiled
shyly. Nobody had ever brought her breakfast in bed before, so she gratefully
sat up and put the tray on her lap. She picked up the glass of fruit juice
which tasted slightly sour to her sleep-encrusted taste buds, but appreciated
the way it brought gradual clarity to her thoughts. She looked up at Ketaba who
was hovering nervously over her and smelt distinctly of the freshness of soap
and shampoo. She had her long hair tied back in a white towel.
“Thanks
very much,” Ana said, putting down the fruit juice and picking up the spoon to
tackle the muesli. “I had a very refreshing night’s sleep.”
“And you
don’t feel at all sick or unwell after the wine?”
Ana frowned, thinking back to the night before. Wasn’t she supposed to experience something called a ‘hangover’ after
drinking? She didn’t feel at all bad, although she remembered a slight
giddiness when she first went to bed. “No, I feel all right.”
“I felt
slightly ill when I woke up,” sighed Ketaba. “I didn’t
sleep at all well. I was tossing and turning all night. I suppose it serves me
right...”
“Oh yes,”
commented Ana, remembering more about the previous night. She caught a glance
at Ketaba’s eyes which looked slyly at Ana’s chest. She glanced down idly and
noticed for the first time that her breasts were on full display. She had
become so accustomed to sleeping naked next to Binta, she at first thought
nothing of it. Then she recalled Ketaba’s late night kiss, and with
embarrassment hoisted up the cotton sheet to cover her chest.
Ketaba
sighed, in recognition of Ana’s discomfort. “I’m sorry about last night,” she
remarked sadly. “I’m very very sorry! I don’t know
what came over me! I’ve never behaved like that before with a woman. It must
have been the wine. I must have drunk far more than I should.”
Ana smiled
reassuringly, but still rearranged herself so she could eat with no risk of the
sheet falling down to her lap. “Don’t worry, Ketaba. It must have been the wine. It’s supposed to make people behave very
strangely. You probably just weren’t aware of what you were doing.”
Ana wasn’t
convinced however that Ketaba’s behaviour wasn’t symptomatic of deeper
repressed feelings. She’d once been told that the really bad thing about
alcohol was that it released people’s inhibitions and let them behave in ways
that were more honest but also more socially unacceptable.
“I’m not a
lesbian, you know. I don’t ‘fancy’ women at all. It was just me getting upset
after all that alcohol,” Ketaba continued, sitting nervously on the side of the
bed. “But don’t tell anyone about it, will you? Not even Binta or Zabba. I
don’t want them to think I’m a dyke like them. I don’t want them to try
seducing me. And I don’t want people to think I’d ever behave illegally.”
“I won’t
tell anyone,” Ana said. She felt slightly offended at the suggestion that her
lover would attempt to seduce Ketaba just because she might think she was a
lesbian too. Binta was surely not the sort. She also realised that keeping news
of the incident secret from Binta wasn’t going to be that easy. Questions would
be bound to be asked about her night at Ketaba’s flat, and Binta might already suspect
that her colleague had designs on her lover. She had after all been peculiarly
unforthcoming about why she was so unenthusiastic about Ana’s visit.
“I’d be so
grateful if you don’t, Ana. I’d be so very
embarrassed if anyone knew. I’d feel humiliated. What would people think? I couldn’t live for shame!”
“It was
nothing, Ketaba. Nothing at all. Don’t mention it, and
I’ll probably just forget it altogether anyway.”
Ketaba
smiled with an expression of relief. “Yes, you’re right. It was nothing! After
all, we didn’t actually do anything,
did we? There was no lovemaking or anything, was there? I’m probably just
worrying about nothing at all! It’s all in my mind, isn’t it? Well, we won’t
say anything more about it!”
Ana
finished her breakfast and waited until Ketaba had left the room with the empty
tray before she ventured out of bed and into her clothes. She declined Ketaba’s
offer of a shower before venturing out and sat in the living room while Ketaba
put some clothes on. Ketaba’s choice of a tracksuit and trainers suggested more
a woman who enjoyed sports than one who worked in a brothel.
“Shall we
go for a walk? You’re not in a hurry to get anywhere are you? It is Saturday
after all.”
“No, I’d love
to see more of Honey,” Ana agreed, leading the way out of Ketaba’s flat into
the streets beyond. She was still impressed by the general affluence and
splendour of the district. It made her own suburb seem
very mundane.
“Do you
enjoy working at the Brothel?” wondered Ketaba as they strode past the ornate
railings of the impressive homes, large cars parked in their wide drives. “Or
do you still have reservations about it?”
Ana mused for a moment. “It’s not
too bad as a job, and I’m getting used to the idea of working with all the
prostitutes around,” she admitted thinking particularly of how it had made it
possible to meet Binta. “I don’t like the Director, though. He’s fairly
objectionable even when he doesn’t touch my bottom or make coarse comments about
what boyfriends he thinks I’ve slept with. Everything he says has an obscene
second meaning and he smokes an awful lot.”
“That must
be terrible. I’d hate to have to put up with all that smoke. I don’t like the
Director either, and I don’t think he likes me. When I started working at the
Brothel he was always trying to get me to sleep with him, but I just didn’t
fancy it. The smell of smoke on his clothes! Some of my clients smoke, but
somehow it’s different when it’s a client. You can tell them not to smoke,
which you can’t do so easily with your boss.”
“You enjoy
working at the Brothel, don’t you?”
“Enjoy isn’t quite the right word. It’s a
job, like yours, and I hope I take a proper professional attitude towards it. I
think though that it’s rather devalued when people like Binta and Ferhana work
there. It shouldn’t be used as a prison. But the Brothel treats its staff
pretty well: much better than it would do if it were not a government
enterprise. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to break the law and freelance, like some
girls do. You’re not so well protected, and there’s no pension to look forward
to. Although I’m sure I’d earn a lot more if I did. The government wouldn’t
take its percentage of my earnings!”
“Is that
the only thing that’s wrong about working freelance? You don’t think it’d be
better if it were as it used to be, where individual brothels competed against
each other? Zabba always says she wished she could set up her own business.”
“She would,
wouldn’t she?” sniffed Ketaba disparagingly, running her fingers idly against
the wall of one of the houses. She pointed towards a track running through some
grass between tall trees on the other side of the road. “That’s where I often
go jogging. I usually spend at least an hour each day running. It’s an excellent
way to stay fit. Though I wouldn’t say it was as effective as
working.” She turned her head towards Ana, and resumed her subject. “If
you remember, the reason why the government first institutionalised Brothels
all those generations ago was to prevent the spread of venereal disease. It was
decided that suppressing prostitution by making it illegal would only make the
situation worse. Nowadays, sexually transmitted diseases are almost totally
unknown in Alif. We’re given regular checkups once a month and it’s very rare
that a girl has caught something. That’s a lot better than many countries,
where all visitors returning from holidays there have to be screened for
anything they’ve caught.”
“Is that
true of Agdal?”
“Strangely, no. But the Agdal government has
its own ways of discouraging the spread of disease. And the other thing that
institutionalised prostitution has done is stop the exploitation of prostitutes
by their pimps. Apparently, working girls hardly saw anything of their earnings
when it was under private control. It all went to their pimps who went around
covered in jewels and expensive clothes, while the prostitutes had nothing at
all. Some of these pimps even beat up their girls if they thought they hadn’t
made enough money and would push them out to work even when they were feeling
ill or had had more clients than they were happy with. It’s much better at the
Brothel. However bad the Director is, he’s not nearly as bad as these pimps
used to be. At least that’s what the history books say.”
“Zabba says
that it’s now President Marmeluke’s government that’s the pimp. She says that
the government gets it both ways by getting an initial cut from a prostitute’s
clients and then by taxing her earnings.”
“Well, it’s
undeniably a good way for the government to ensure that prostitutes pay taxes.
In countries where it’s illegal there must be an awful lot of revenue that
never gets collected. It must be better for the country if prostitutes pay
taxes just like other workers. It’s unfair on those who work legally.”
“I suppose
that’s true,” remarked Ana. “But there must be some bad things about the
government running Brothels. Isn’t it inconsistent for the government to be
organising and profiting from something it so often says it disapproves of?”
“I have no
idea why they would disapprove of it. It’s a perfectly natural and harmless
activity. It’s good for the clients who in many cases would never have sex with
such beautiful or attractive girls providing professional services to those who
can afford it. It must be good for prostitutes like me who want to provide
those sorts of services. Though I suppose there are those who’d argue that it
sets the prices artificially high. They say that if prostitution were
privatised, there would be a lot more competition and prices would just drop.
They also say that as prostitutes wouldn’t have to lose such a large percentage
of their earnings they’d also be better off. But I can’t believe that. What
guarantees are there that the brothel you’d work at would be one of the better
paying ones? And I’m sure that if a group of privately run brothels teamed
together they could fix the prices just as high as they are in the State
Brothel. If not higher!”
“Perhaps
there’d be less prostitution if the government weren’t seen to be encouraging
it?”
“Well, the
government doesn’t exactly advertise the Brothels. There are no commercials on
television or the radio, are there? And anyway, I don’t think there’d be any
less if it were private. Though, I suppose there might be more variety. They
wouldn’t all look the same as they do now. Clients with different interests
could go where they liked. But I think they probably do now. If they have
particular tastes which the State Brothels don’t provide, there are clandestine
brothels which cater for them.”
“Do you
think so?” Ana asked, imagining an underworld of characters
like Mr Madir and Zabba setting up business in semidetached houses in the
outer suburbs of Blad.
“There are
always cases mentioned in the newspapers about illegal vice rings being closed
down - and I’m sure that some of these vice rings trade in sexual services as
well as pornography, drugs and alcohol.”
Ana admired
a monument they passed that commemorated people who had died in a previous war.
At the top of it was a statue of the man who had been president at that time,
long before President Marmeluke but looking much the same, particularly with
regard to the heroic pose in which he was sculpted.
Around the monument were some railings and a faded brass plaque. Along the road
from the monument were houses of quite modern construction and a dark figure
walking towards them. The figure came closer and Ana could make out whom it was
wearing the long black gown with a cross dangling over her chest.
“Good
morning, Ana. Good morning, Ketaba,” greeted Chadora drawing up to them. “How strange seeing you here. You live nearby, don’t you
Ketaba?”
“Yes,”
admitted Ketaba, amiably but looking slightly annoyed at losing her exclusive
rights to conversation with Ana. “What are you doing here? You don’t live in
Honey, do you?”
“Noohh!” laughed
Chadora. “I couldn’t possibly afford to live here. Not unless I were in a
sheltered church property. No, I’ve been visiting one of your colleagues. She
felt in need of the succour and advice that only the church can provide.” She
smiled at Ana. “I believe I have an appointment with you later this week, isn’t
that right?”
“Appointment?” Ana couldn’t recall any such.
She’d been too ecstatically happy in her love affair to think of seeking
guidance in religion.
“You asked
to see Binta’s lesbian lover, Mezyana, I believe. I’ve been detailed to
accompany you. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
“No, not at all. I just didn’t know I had to
be accompanied by anyone.”
“It’s
regulations, I’m afraid Ana dear. It isn’t considered
advisable for anyone to visit people in penal institutions without some
official representation. And I’m delighted to say that I am the one who has
that privilege. Don’t worry. I won’t be eavesdropping on your conversation and
it will be exactly as private as you may wish. My rôle in the matter is
finished as soon as I have escorted you to the unfortunate girl.” Chadora
smiled at Ketaba who appeared somewhat puzzled by the exchange. “Ana’s put in
an application to see Mezyana: Binta’s partner who was convicted with her for
criminal sexual conduct. Mezyana had proved to the court the sincerity of her
religious conviction and was excused prison or the Brothel on condition she
serve time at the Blad Convent.”
Ketaba nodded.
“It’s lucky for her that she was religious. I’m not religious at all. I don’t
believe in anything. If I were to commit a crime I’d probably opt for the
sentence that Binta has.”
“You may
not have the option,” frowned Chadora. “However, I
find it strange when you say you don’t believe in anything. It appears to me
that you believe in rather a few things: they’re just not encompassed by the
teachings and practices of the church.”
“Are you
saying that I ought to be religious?” challenged Ketaba.
“Not at
all!” laughed Chadora. “Your faith in God is between you and your conscience. I
am merely saying that you have beliefs.”
“I most
certainly don’t believe in God. And I think those prostitutes who do, do so
simply to absolve themselves of guilt and remorse. They are just unable to
accept what they do for what it is, and see the virtues of it. I really don’t
see why they feel that way. What could possibly be wrong with making a living
out of doing what one does best? And if that is the provision of sexual
services, so be it!”
“Perhaps
they feel that it debases conduct the church believes is best spent between
husband and wife?”
Ketaba
sniffed. “That rather makes it seem as if sex was purely and simply for
procreation and not for recreation.”
“Some may
also feel that it is the most fulfilling expression of sincerely felt
emotions,” Chadora remarked.
“Hmmm! Anyway, many prostitutes who
turn to the church are criminals like Ferhana or sexual perverts. You can’t say
that it is because they attach great importance to ethics or morality, can
you?”
“You
certainly like to argue, Ketaba!” Chadora exclaimed, smiling amiably at Ana. “I
would respond to that by saying that the individual’s relationship with God is
a personal one, and that although one may seek guidance from the church, one
can still dispute the ethical codes based on interpretation of the Gospels and
the word of the Lord.”
“They just
want to be able to do whatever they like and be absolved of their sins. They
don’t have enough self-confidence and belief in themselves, so the church
becomes a useful crutch.”
“It is not
for me to criticise anyone’s reasons for turning to the church, Ketaba. I think
if you were only to look at it from a less sceptical perspective you would see
all it has to offer and perhaps you could come to love God.”
“You won’t
see me becoming a churchgoer!” Ketaba affirmed. She looked across the road at a
small ornamental tower in which a clock was inlaid. “Is that the time? I don’t
have a watch. Too much ornamentation! I really didn’t realise it was that late
in the morning. I’ve got to go to work this afternoon. It’s all work work work for a busy working
girl.” She turned to face Ana and looked at her with an abashed expression. “It
was very nice having you to visit. I do hope you can come again.” She almost
guiltily and quite perfunctorily kissed Ana on the cheek and dashed off almost
immediately.
Ana and
Chadora watched Ketaba walk off in a stride that very soon broke into a jog and
carried her off the main road and along a rough track by the edge of the
woodland opposite.
“I hope I
didn’t frighten Ketaba off,” Chadora remarked apologetically. “I know she
doesn’t like religion and I probably remind her too much of it. Or was it that
she just didn’t want me to intervene in her chat to you.”
“I’m sure
that’s not true,” commented Ana, sure that that was much more likely to be so.
Perhaps Ketaba would have liked to have spoken more about her failed love
affairs, and found Chadora’s attitudes too opposite her own to feel comfortable
voicing her views.
Chadora
watched Ketaba’s statuesque figure disappear in the shadows of the trees. She
glanced back momentarily, dodged past the small lap
dogs an old woman was escorting and was gone. “Ketaba is a sad figure in many ways.
She so much wants to believe in something, but she is also adamant that it must
not be in religion or politics. She is always looking for something and I don’t
think she’ll ever find it.” Chadora returned her gaze to Ana and firmly took a
hand in one of hers. “So, next week you’ll be seeing Mezyana in the Convent. It
is just a social call, isn’t it?”
“Binta
wants to know how Mezyana is, but of course she can’t visit herself. I’m just
visiting as Binta’s proxy, if you like.”
“And I
daresay you’d like to see what Binta’s former lover is like as well, I imagine.
Isn’t that right?”
Ana nodded
shyly. Chadora squeezed Ana’s hand affectionately, and then linked her arm
inside Ana’s and the two walked along the peaceful Honey boulevards towards the
bus stop for the Brothel. She didn’t ask why Ana should want to visit the
Brothel on her day off, and her conversation became much more desultory. She
talked about the private gardens of Honey, the large estates and the great
wealth of many of the inhabitants. She chatted about
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