THIS IS NOT MY STORY

After classes on a Friday me and my friends had gone to a popular joint in Westlands. Four older gentlemen came over to our table and offered us drinks (proper drinks – not the drinks we were used to). We agreed and over the next 2 months it was play and fun. They would invite us to the hotels and have fun with us. Pay us well which I now know is prostitution.

The guy I landed on was nothing short of rich and he gave me pocket money unlike my dad who gave me $40 a month, he would give me $200 ever two weeks. I could get all the shoes and clothes I wanted. I was lucky enough to move from the hostels near Chiromo to a one bedroom in Parklands. 

At this point my boyfriend who was in JKUAT University and his small credit gifts meant nothing. All the time he visited me, he bought me a bag of chips and cheap bracelet’s and once in a while I would get phone credit worth Ksh 100 compared to the Ksh. 2000 phone credit and a trip to coast with a new one bedroom house.This University ‘bae’ had to go. He was not at my level anymore. The decision came hard because dating someone for 2 years and dropping them without and explanation is hard but once you taste the good money nothing can stop you.

My friends had noticed the changes; missed classes, empty hostel room and as all good friends they told me to take care of myself.

After 9 months of happiness, the guy changed. He would only see me on weekends or send his driver to pick me up. His driver was a kind guy and through him I learned the hard truth. My new man was married and had a daughter my age, apparently I was not the only girl the driver would pick up. He and his friends from the club had been doing the routine around Langata and Westlands where evidently all university girls stream to over the weekends.

I was angry at myself but then again the 42′ inch Samsung TV was delivered to my place the following Monday with an apology from my ‘hubby’. As I had grown to know him, to say I was stupid and blind would be an understatement.

Not long after November 6th, I got ill and was admitted to hospital. It was nothing major, the doctors said I needed fluids and I was discharged. The medication prescribed worked against me and I got worse. So ‘My hubby’ sent me some cash and his driver dropped me at Nairobi Hospital, they did some tests and the results were nothing short of dismantling. I was 2 months pregnant and HIV positive

After breaking the news to the guy he took off and said I had been seeing someone else. The following day, 8 guys showed up at my house with a moving truck, at this point you realize there is no difference between you and a visitor. Out went my beautiful TV, Couch, Queen Size Bed, my tables and carpets. I was left with clothes and some pair of shoes to my name. No money. No dignity and a pregnancy that came with disease.

With the Ksh 3000 I had I went back home and my mother knew immediately I was with a child. My father hasn’t spoken to me since then, it’s been 2 years now. I’m still HIV positive. My son is still here and the 1 year I enjoyed life with a married man, I lost school time, I lost a boyfriend who is now working and another woman is enjoying what was to be mine. 

My girls let me tell you out right, no man will look at you when you’re HIV positive with a child even those who used to buy you 50 bob credit and the cheap bracelets. Many of you who are in my shoes, leave before your life becomes a wish. I wish someone had told me.

You call them sponsors, we called them sugar daddies. The media has made them popular. Most of my friends are gone. Some are really sick with HIV. Family members use me as a negative example. 

Women work hard. Get a man you can lift. Be thankful for what you have. Don’t be greedy.Stick to the 200 bob credit and watch it grow to 1000 bob and more.


My Advice – Ladies, please stop wearing your heart between your legs. Your happiness can be found there too. So, if you keep on this track it will become bottomless pit of despair. Stop dangling the key to ‘unhappiness’ in your lap. Take care!

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Published by Doreen Eshinali