Rendered Anonymous
For many years my street travails carried a whole village
The steel tips of my 6’’ stiletto heels ensured not only my poise and elegance, but the survival of many back home
For donkey years, my body was clay for men to mould and live their fantasies
For a very long time I smiled, danced and feigned delight while I was being abused.
My body responded thus 'cause I was programmed that way. I was a mere robot.
Growing up, I didn't dream of being in prostitution. I didn't aspire to live off selling my body.I dreamnt of becoming a scientist but that was stolen from me when I was trafficked. Prostitution was the natural progression.

As women with babies strapped on their backs pounded grain more than a 1000 miles away back in my village, my body got hammered by the Johns, my soul tormented and my mental fortitude got eroded.

Each one of them pulled a string out of my self confidence
Every one of them stoked the smouldering fire that gnawed at my spirit,
One by one they ripped away my zeal and enthusiasm
All of them laid bricks on the walls of my soul’s prison.
Sadness, hopelessness and depression deposed joy, hope and optimism.

Yearning renewal, I reached out to many but no one offered a hand.
The government couldn’t help me 'cause they didn’t have such a programme
Churches couldn’t understand what my problem was and so could not help me
The women’s shelters couldn’t help me because I didn’t fit into the target group for which they were established.
No-one could help me break the shackles of prostitution off my legs and so it was a free fall into the pits of depression, brokenness and hopelessness.
A very sad, dark and lonely place that rendered me anonymous
*****
I wish to start a transitional shelter for women who genuinely want to exit prostitution. I am looking for help to make this dream a reality to ensure that other women do not go through what I experienced.
Any donation will be greatly appreciated.
Thank you