Title: Toils Not Tales: the life of Angela.

Title: Toils Not Tales": the life of Angela.

Thursday evening. The time is exactly 7:57pm.  I left the church after an intense fasting and prayer night to meet Kathy G at Paloma.

The cloud was pretty dark but not sinister. We would be lucky, I said to my self- that was my usual soliloquy.

We were on a mission- to find a female university student who's life for many would be an enigma.


Yet for us, a puzzle that we had and have to unfold.

We have never been this enthused. Perhaps.

Katherine G is the Executive Producer at Accra-based radio station, Starr FM (103.5). And I, a Journalist and blogger (cmcghana.blogspot.com)

"It's nice to see you again", Kathy said after she dropped off a colleague from her saloon car and I entered. "Ashewu" [Ashawo], meaning prostitute, she teased minutes later with her native American ascent.

And yes, you guessed right. We were on a mission to find a female prostitute. But this time a prostitute in university. Some one who jostles as a social worker to fund her education.

Our journey took as to Asylum-down, not far from the Kahuna Night Club.

"My colleagues advised that I should be careful", Kathy was already exhibiting signs of fear. I had to reassure her that she was safe with me. "I know some of these girls", I remember telling her.

Kathy G and I trolled the streets of the Kwame Nkrumah circle and Asylum-down hoping to find a prostitute who attend university. Many of these women share the same story. Almost.

Coming from poor backgrounds and often broken homes, the quaking and hush realities of life has left them with perhaps just one option. The streets.

Even the cold and sinister night wouldn't deter them.

"...It's a man's world honestly. The women, their just at the receiving end", Angela bemoaned. As a feminist I cringed hearing this from a woman.

For some of these women their struggles re-enforces these words coupled with the stereotype and rejection. But they have to "throw all caution to the wind" to make ends meet.

Kathy G and I met Angela, a 24-year old female student at Cantonment after our unsuccessful engagements with some of these women at Kahuna, a few blocks away from the New Patriotic Party (NPP) office, Asylum-down branch.


Blessing, also a social night worker offered to help us get in touch with a friend who attends a university. We later sped off after a rude encounter with one of the women but not before we exchange contacts and kisses with Blessing. To be fair, her unwelcoming demeanor [not Blessing] was one out of 10 women we encountered.

Kathy G and I would later meet Angela who confirmed a claim by a colleague that she attends university. Her affirmation was more believable because her colleague introduced us to her after we inquired to talk to a university student who work here [American House round-about].

Meeting Angela, she dispelled all the misconceptions Kathy had heard regarding how brute most of these women could be. More endearing was the story she told.

Powerful, Kathy and I concluded.

"My name is Angela. I attend a university here in Accra. Am 24 years old. I wouldn't mind if you use the word prostitute. After all that's what it is...", Angela said after Kathy quizzed about whether she was comfortable with the description prostitute. "Prostitute", she [Angela] emphasized.

Can you tell us when it all began, Kathy quizzed further.

"It all started when I lost my both parents and I went to stay with a friend. I was 18 years old when I lost my parents. So I went to stay with my friend and the elder sister was taking care of us and she'll  always tell us to-when we use her tissue or [pomade] she'll always say use what you have to get what you want. Go buy yours. You have a boyfriend. Tell him to buy you [some]. Gradually [ I started prostituting], she recounted almost sobbing.

One could see her fingers shake even from a distance. Her guise smiles was not enough to hide her fears.

" I really had this need to go to school because I thought that will make me happy.  I really wanted to go to school and become someone important in life. Not just end up as a tout because my parents were not there" she continued painstakingly.

"All the men that will help [me], all the men that you think they will simply give you the money without doing anything, they'll still want to sleep with you before..." Of course that would be a mirage in today's world. I said to my self.

More staggering was her revelation that married men were the worse culprits. She charged between 50 Ghana cedis and 400 depending on the type of men that approached her.

There were the big men, taxi drivers and normal guys. She graded them. Even students.

Who do you have sex with most, Katherine probed.

"Any where, any one that can pay you have sex with them. You don't care..." She said gesturing their "greed" for money with less concern for their health.

I quivered and Kathy sighed. This was rather getting alarming. The thoughts of her security and the danger of acquiring a viral infection gained roots.

She described her first prostituting experience as "horrible". It was "tough" to accept the money...But I have been lucky. When I meet men they are always good to me..."

She would later tell us about late night attacks from armed men. At this time my fears were laden due to her earlier disclosures. Kathy's feelings were probably not different from my. Her composure said it all.

The heart-wrenching story of a third-year university student had left us almost numbed if not paralyzed.

But the story had to be told and heard. We had to listen. That was not just our jobs but also we had to change lives. We wanted to.

Angela wanted to change lives as well. Hopefully with her unfolding stories and experiences. All was not lost, I heard my self lisping quietly.

"No way! No way!" She said after we asked if she would advice someone who found her self in her [Angela] position to engage in prostitution. That was and still is refreshing to know. Even better, the knowledge that she had always insisted on condom usage by either parties.

"I am so scared of catching HIV because I don't wanna die, she added, laughing.

The emotions of smiles, laughter, sobs, fear which accompanied her narrative left us wondering. Perhaps what if the mirror turned against us and her reflection was ours. Her toils, not tales; the life of Angela.

Journalist: Nathaniel Crabbe.