I still write a monthly column for UP Magazine. Below is an excerpt from this month’s issue of . If the story looks so smooth and lacks the roughness of what I write here, then it is because it has passed through the hands of an editor. UP Magazine is distributed free of charge at coffee shops, shopping malls and petrol stations in Nairobi.
Christmas comes early here on the Street. By mid-October, girls were already talking of the holidays. But the talk was not of anticipation. Of booking a trip and enjoying Christmas at the Mara. Of looking forward to being with friends and family, roasting goat ribs while downing Tusker. At that point, the talk was about fear and anxiety.
For most of us here, Christmas is the time we seek acceptance and some sort of validation from ourselves, family, and friends. It’s the one time of year we are eager to fit in and be like everyone else. However, for those of us leading double lives, Christmas is the time to reassure the family. To act like people in normal jobs do: take a break, retreat to the family home, and share goodies and stories of the year. Yet all these things are a function of money, and that’s what creates the anxiety. With no money, there is a fear of failure during this important period.
During the month leading up to the holidays, girls talk about looking for “Christmas money.” Because of our bad saving habits and the unpredictable nature of our business, many of us start purchasing and giving out Christmas gifts in November. We dare not risk waiting for the sales. What if one is arrested or finds herself in a complex situation, and all the saved money is swallowed up in bribes? What if December is a bad business month?
Towards the end of the first week of November, Soni told me she had cleared her “Christmas debt.” That meant she had done some good shopping for her parents, in addition to sending them money. “I am not sure whether I will get leave to come over for Christmas this year,” she told them. Already, girls have started talking about how bad things are. How business is bad and goods are expensive. How they plan to spend Christmas on their own. But that is only talk. The reality is that many have already prepared and are continuously preparing themselves for Christmas. And any girl who has spent the holidays at work knows how lousy that can be.
Most girls will have taken a break by the 23rd of December, but a year ago, I spent Christmas on the street. It’s a lonely, dull, and depressing time. Many of those who have not been successful enough to join their families stay at home. Some are too down to budge and sleep away the whole day. Others spark the Christmas spirit with alcohol. For me, last year had been a bad business month. But rather than taking an early break and locking myself up in the house, I decided to push to the very last minute. I hoped that I could make enough money to join my family for New Year’s.
On Christmas Eve, there were no serious customers. Drunk men swung by, hooted, teased us, and then drove away. The few of us girls present huddled together, taking cheap spirits and complaining how Christmas was such a waste of time and money. “Why is there Christmas anyway?” I remember asking. Christmas night was even worse. There were only about ten of us on the whole street. There were even fewer men. It seems Christmas is the time to be faithful. By two a.m., we had hated Christmas as much as we possibly could. Of course that was just a way of escaping and justifying our failure. In better circumstances, we would have loved Christmas.
Then a white man drove by in a Land Cruiser. He stopped his car and shouted. “Merry Christmas!” We stared at him, thinking he was just like all of the other drunkards who had passed by that night. “So he has come to show us what a fabulous Christmas he had!” Cheupe said. “Let him go. Tell him to screw himself.” Then we saw him reach for something from his passenger seat. The next thing we knew, he was beckoning to us, holding bottles of Smirnoff. We rushed to his car. He gave us about six one-litre bottles, which we quickly opened and started drinking. ”Merry Christmas!” we shouted to him in unison as he drove away. I hope this year will be different. I would love to spend Christmas with my family. Merry Christmas, everyone.
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