BY TEKLEBIRHAN GEBREMICHAEL
Abebech was a beautiful prostitute working as a waitress in one of the bars at the Piazza, but she was most of the time busy being entertained by male customers who were intent on taking her out for the night. She did make a lot of money selling her body at great risk, but the social stigma attached to prostitution and the self-alienation associated with it made her feel dehumanized. So, she finally decided to regain her humanity, empathy and sense of love and affection.
One late Saturday night her favorite John, Bekele, came to the bar and took a seat at a corner. She was so happy to see him that she almost fell over herself to greet him. Bekele was rather surprised because he never saw her that happy and jovial.
“Abe, I am so glad you came tonight. I am going to spring a surprise on you today,” Abebech said.
“Oh, really! What did your neighbor, the National Lottery, let you win an ‘elephant’ lottery prize?” Bekele asked jokingly.
“Money means nothing to me. I’ve got loads of it. My seed capital is a gift of nature. I have no interest or amortization to pay,” Abebech replied somewhat philosophically and with a tinge of allegory.
“I’ve always wondered why you don’t pay taxes on your incomes in Ethiopia. In Europe ladies like you pay taxes,” Bekele said.
“The dehumanization associated with the oldest profession is tax enough,” Abebech quipped.
“Dehumanization be damned! You get paid for getting orgastic pleasure while I pay for it! You are doubly rewarded. It isn’t fair!” Bekele commented.
“But what about the risks of being exposed to unwanted pregnancy, VD including HIV/Aids and emotional trauma?” Abebech said.
“The VD risk is equally applicable to me. The unwanted pregnancy thing is preventable with contraceptives,” Bekele said.
“Well, I am talking about you and myself. I am sick and tired of this life. I want to settle with you and regain my humanity,” Abebech suddenly changed the topic to an almost life or death matter and Bekele was caught unawares.
“I like you. In fact, I almost love you because you’re beautiful and hot. But I am literally scared of getting married because I feel it is going to rob me of my independence. You know something, I can’t go to sleep with somebody lying beside me. That’s why I do the quickies with you. Besides, I feel it is an unforgiveable disgrace for anyone to hear me farting,” Bekele said.
Abebech broke into laughter and continued until tears started welling up in her eyes and teardrops dripped down her cheeks.
“That’s what I like about you, Abe. You have no tendency to sugarcoat hard and funny facts however taboo they may be considered by the society,” Abebech remarked and she added: “Of course, we have going to have separate bedrooms”.
“At any rate, that’s a bombshell of a proposition and I have to knuckle down and think about it really seriously. By the way, have you read the Amharic novel titled ‘Matrimony as Bondage?”, Bekele said.
“Nobody has had the fling I have had, but I have come to the conclusion that love unbound in the shape of free love is an invitation to moral decadence and an unraveling of one’s moral fabric. So, sexual love circumscribed within the bounds of matrimony can radiate its glorious offshoots beyond their limits,” Abebech said.
Bekele blinked with amazement at Abebech’s depth of thought. He said to himself: “How can a beautiful prostitute think so deeply? What she said could have come from any one of the most famous marriage counseling gurus in the US,” and then he said:
“Quite frankly, I never thought your mind was as beautiful as your face”.
“My unrestrained fling gave me a free spirit and emancipated me from irrational inhibitions of all sorts. I have come to believe that the secret of success for individuals, groups and nations is a free spirit and a free mind,” Abebech said. Bekele suddenly rose from his seat and knelt down and said: “Abebech, my beautiful whore turned philosopher and marriage counseler, will you marry me?” Abebech placed her right hand on Bekele’s balding head and replied:
“Hitherto inhibited, inveterate bachelor, your wish is granted. Please rise before you start prostrating in the grip of my splendid romantic magic”, Abebech seemed to recite a well–rehearsed incantation.
A sudden sting of fear stabbed Bekele. The whole affair looked like a voodoo ritual to him. However, his anxiety seemed to subside as he came to grips with the reality that he was now going to yoke with Abebech in matrimony. He slowly rose to his feet and said.
“When will our wedding day be?” “There is no need to delay it. It could be as soon as next week if you have no objections,” Abebech said.
“No problem. It should be as simple as possible, though,” Bekele replied.
“It is Ok, with me. It could even be the day after tomorrow,” Abebech concurred. “But we must both have medical check-ups not just for HIV but also for hepatitis B and C, blood group compatibility, fertility test, and genetic conditions,” Bekele said.
Bekele looked at his watch. It was already past midnight and the music and the noise from the drunken chit-chat in the bar was getting louder and more jarring.
“With all these thoughts weighing in on me, I don’t even feel like having one of our quickies. I must go straight home and have some shut–eye,” Bekele said, sliding his hand into his trouser back pocket to pay the bill.
“You haven’t even finished your first beer but I’ve done better with my second glass of red wine. No wonder we have both been drinking from the chalice of matrimony. At any rate, you must allow me to cover the bill tonight,” Abebech said.
“Your wish is granted, prostitute turned philosopher and marriage counseling guru,” Bekele said jokingly and was about to leave when he remembered something and said:
“By the way, let’s meet at Arsho Clinic nearby tomorrow at 9:00 AM for the medical checkups.” “Oh! Yeah, I almost forgot. Sharp at 9:00 AM,” Abebech agreed.
Another of Abebech’s Johns lurking in wait at a far corner of the bar sprang on her as she was sipping her red wine. His right-hand trouser pocket was bulging with a huge bundle of cash. As usual she salivated over the mouth-watering treasure trove in his pocket, but she did manage to beat back the surge of greed and said: “Sorry Jovani, I am on the rag.”
“What does it matter where? On the rag, on the sofa, on the mattress or anywhere, baby?” Jovani said, unaware of the slang code for the menstrual period.
“Jovani, don’t act like a fool. Don’t tell me you do not know the tens of slang words for a woman’s period. O.k. in plain terms, I am on my period,” Abebech said, eyeing the treasure trove with forbidden longing.
“Damn it! I am not going to touch any woman tonight. I was hell bent on getting you tonight as well. I am going straight home to my sacks of cash. Here, take half of this bundle. I don’t need it all tonight,” Jovani said and pulled out half of the cash and put it into Abebech’s outstretched hands.
Jovani never looked back. He went over to the cashier, paid his bill and went straight out of the door. Abebech was dumbfounded at what happened and almost everybody in the bar was looking at her in complete amazement tinged with jealousy.
She shoved the cash into her bosom and disappeared into the block of bedrooms of the bar. She counted the cash. It was just shy of 10,000 Birr! She then went to the bar’s office where the owner of the bar (actually bar –cum-hotel), a voluptuous and cheerful lady was sitting at her desk tallying the day’s revenue.
“Anything the matter with you Abebech,” said the lady cheerfully.
“No, Mamma, could you keep this money for me. Deduct the overnight rent for a single–bed room,” Abebech said.
“No problem, darling,” said the lady, counting the money and said:
“Nine thousand seven hundred Birr minus the room rate of 200 Birr.” Abebech already felt like a married woman having a room to herself and avoiding the bar’s group bedroom for the waitresses who failed to grab johns for the night.
The next morning Abebech and Bekele met at Arsho Clinic at the appointed time. The nurse congratulated them on their upcoming wedding and on their caution to take pre–marriage medical checkups. The couple underwent the required medical tests and were given an appointment to return to the clinic three days later for results.
The medical results were negative on all counts and the wedding went ahead as planned without a hitch. So, Abebech and Bekele were joined in wedlock.
About a year and half after their marriage, Abebech gave birth to a stunningly beautiful baby girl. She waited for more than four years for another child, but it never came. Bekele was diagnosed with secondary infertility said to have been caused by a low sperm count and its reduced quality coupled with advancing age.
They waited for another child but it was becoming increasingly clear that they were doomed to an only child for the rest of their married life. Meanwhile, their child, Betty, grew to be a 12-year-old breathtakingly beautiful girl. Her rich uncle, Bekele’s elder brother, convinced her parents to take her to Newzeland (where he made his fortune) for quality education and a much better career path.
As Abebech and Bekele were gracefully aging, COVID-19 broke out worldwide. Coronavirus cases increased by the hundreds in Addis Ababa. Hospital beds and ventilators were running short. Unfortunately, both Abebech and Bekele tested positive for the virus.
Their symptoms were serious, including shortness of breath and high fever. They were both rushed to hospital, but there was only one ventilator in the ICU. The doctors gave priority to the mother on the basis of ICU triage protocols. But Abebech rejected the priority and vowed to die with her beloved husband Bekele. She did! Bekele had died minutes earlier!
The Ethiopian herald December 24/2020
