I needed to pull over in my taxi, so I indicated left, and began to slow down. I noticed two angry street prostitutes having a territorial dispute at my chosen stopping point, so I cancelled my intended manoeuvre and drove around the corner instead. I pulled over and switched off the ignition.
Utterly absorbed in my phone, I suddenly became aware of someone walking away from my car. It was the taller prostitute, who had mistaken my aborted manoeuvre for an attempt at kerb-crawling. As she drew level with my window, she noticed that I was female, and simply turned on her heel, to return to ply her trade on the road.
I do feel sad for these girls. They were tiny babies once, full of life, innocence and potential. Being a street prostitute is not a job that anyone grows up wanting to do.
At some point in their lives, something happened to these girls, and a subsequent chain of events led them to try to sell themselves to passing strangers. As one of my own customers once remarked, “Someone put them there.”
It’s a very dangerous situation to be in, and I really do feel for those women whose lives have been so corrupted that they take to the streets.
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