Mohindra!!!

Theirs was the only numbered house in the street and oddly so.  No. 69 Golden Home Avenue reigned as ‘The Place’ that put the shanty town on the map. It was famed to be a home away from home.  Men claimed the Matron offered in excellent quality whatever was missing in the home. Young and old, they trooped in to laugh over a sweaty cold bottle and witty banter. Young boys went in too, to cut their teeth.

It was a beehive of activity. Petty businesses on the street blossomed and benefited from the activities of No. 69 Golden Home Avenue. A good deal of traffic was generated and it brought life to the otherwise dreary shanty town. The ever booming nightlife meant that ‘boys’ had a place to be at night and so stayed away from people’s houses and rooms.

Women of low virtue proudly reigned in ‘The Place’. They reigned in the little community too. The flashiest and most beautiful cars were always parked around even though the access roads were almost non-existent. It was a mystery.

Community Development Centres and Churches carefully tried to convert and rehabilitate the young ladies that lived and worked there. For every one that got out of the life of prostitution in its wildest as it happened in the house, six others were recruited.

The Matron and the most sought for service provided was named Mohindra. She was said to be exotic and foreign hence her name. She was said to be as beautiful as she was talented. A young boy would work and save for six months to be able to be initiated into manhood by the great Mohindra. The bragging rights that emanated from that was the stuff of legend.

My church organised a crusade in the community. The shanty town could rightfully be named Sodom, it was apt for the church to bring the message of God and repentance to Golden City.

As we went through the unkempt passages of the Golden City Shanty Town I saw someone I knew from the village. Her name was Mbembe or some such sad name. Hers was an utterly sad story.  She lost her husband and son to HIV/AIDS. She was stigmatised and abandoned. She was advised by the elders in the Community to go to Abuja where she could have access to anti-retroviral drugs we all raised funds for her journey. Nothing was heard of her after she left.

I would have pretended no to recognise her as she had become very light skinned and funnily dressed; shorts so short I could see the goods spilling out. She used to be shy and dark skinned. She however called out to me.

“Sunny, oh Sunny.” she cried.

I pretended to think for a couple of seconds and shouted in pretentious recognition.

“Mbembe!”I did not want to hug or shake her as I knew very well who she was and why she left the village.

“Oh, I haven’t seen anyone from the village in years.” It was over seven years since she left the village. “It’s so nice seeing you, you should come and visit sometime. I live around the corner.”

“You live here?” I asked. I made a mental note to self to never come here again. “Wow, that is really nice.”

“Yes oh. I’m at No. 69 Golden Home Avenue.” That got more of my attention.

Tell me something! I thought to myself.

“Just ask of Mohindra, no one knows me as Mbembe here.” She said gaily.

My heart stopped beating as I froze on my tracks. I know the name Mohindra because the Prayer Warriors in church said she was the Jezebel of the Community. A foreign and exotic woman they had said, I was expecting anyone but the formerly downtrodden Mbembe.

I walked home slowly that evening, tears in my eyes for the various chaste wives that unknown to them were infected with the virus as a result of the ‘good times’ their philandering husbands went to have. I thought of all the young boys that ‘cut their teeth’ at Mohindra’s shrine.

I did not even attend the Crusade I came to invite people for. My heart was heavy…

Credits;        Ojonugwa Sapphire Abu

Picture;       ibitimes.com