🤫 Confess📍 Street Gist
I Carried Olosho for Two Years in Kaduna. The Money Was Too Sweet to Walk Away.
C
Cunning Fox from Ibadan
3 months ago
I was 22, fresh out of NYSC, and my father had just died. My mother was selling groundnut by the roadside, and my younger ones needed school fees. I was in Kaduna, squatting with my aunt, and I had no job. That was when my friend Binta told me about a 'business' that could clear my problems in one month. I knew what she meant. I said no at first. But when I saw my mother's hands cracking from that groundnut oil, I said yes. The first man was an Alhaji from the market. He was 54, married, with four wives. He gave me 45,000 naira after the first time. I cried that night, not because of what happened, but because I had never held that much money in my life. The next week, he sent me 20,000 just to 'take care of myself'. That was when I started to see it as a job. I told myself I was only doing it for a season. Two years later, I was still there. I had moved to my own apartment, I was buying new clothes, and my mother thought I had found a 'good office job'. What broke me was not the shame or the risk. It was the day I saw my younger sister looking at me with that same hunger in her eyes. She asked me how she could also get a 'job' like mine. I slapped her. Then I held her and cried. That night, I packed my things and went back to my mother's house. I told her the truth. She cried too, but she held me and said, 'My daughter, we will manage.' Omo, I still think about the money. Sometimes I miss it. But I learned that when you sell your body, you also sell your peace. There is no amount of naira that can buy that back. I am now learning tailoring, and I am grateful to God that I got out before it consumed me completely. If you are thinking of going down that road, please think about the one who will look up to you tomorrow.
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