Last Night, I Was A Prostitute


I learned a new thing about life last night in Yaounde, as I sat in the bar of Hotel Mont-Febe drinking in the amazing few, and a cocktail. Actually, make that two new things.

Lesson 1: A cocktail is a very alcoholic drink.

I guess I have Hollywood to blame for thinking cocktails are just one step up from non-alcoholic drinks. I mean, in movies, it’s always the girls and effeminate guys that order them. And the hard guys do straight shots or martinis! So anytime I’m in a bar, and they don’t have Red Bull, I order… yep you guessed it… a cocktail. Last night, when I began to feel light headed after 3/4 of my glass of la bombo or bamba cocktail, a state I only reach after 2 and a half glasses of white wine, I stopped drinking. My la bamba had 1 shot of red rum, 1 shot of white rum, and fresh fruit juices. Last night, I learned that 1 shot is equivalent to 1 glass of wine, and 1 glass of wine is equivalent to 1 beer. Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m the village drunkard, and I didn’t even know!!

Lesson 2: A young lady sitting alone in a bar drinking a cocktail is assumed to be a prostitute.

And there I was thinking my frohawk was hot! I had no idea! I thought all the men that tried to hook up with me were being unusually pervy, but nope, they were just at regular, normal perv level. They thought I was a prostitute. Hahahaha
My first “customer-to-be” was an Italian man with leathery skin and balding hair. He came to sit across from me and attempted to chat. He spoke Italian and very broken English, so I seized the opportunity. Told him I spoke only French, and after 5 minutes of trying to communicate, he gave up and left. Feeling satisfied with myself, I leaned back, caught the eye of some other white guy and he winked at me. Ei! I frowned at him so he didn’t come over. Then came Mr. Avocat (lawyer) the Senator. When I interpreted what he was asking in French as “What do I have to do to get you?”, I thought it was just my bad french. Even when he said “I want to do you”, I thought it was just his bad English. But when he started begging for “just once, just small… Don’t left me tonight… I want you”, I started feeling uncomfortable. His shock when I insisted in paying, and when I actually paid for my food and drinks was amusing, and eye-opening.

He changed his strategy then. I guess initially he thought I was telling a lie when I told him I was an architect from Ghana. His new strategy was saying he had fallen in love with me and wanted to marry me. Also that he would give me contracts to build in Cameroon. Ladies and Gentlemen, it was a scene out of a Nigerian movie. I was even a little afraid, because he told me he’s a winner who always gets what he wants. To my “I have a boyfriend”, he said “left that, left that, I will be your boyfriend. Tu es belle… I’ll do anything” Mr Avocat Senator spoiled my night, I had to run to the safety of my room when he started getting touchy. When I got back to my room and was complaining to my boyfriend, he laughed at me paaaaaaaaaa. That’s how I learned lesson number two. Of prostitutes sitting in hotel bars and drinking cocktails!


7 thoughts on “Last Night, I Was A Prostitute

  1. Hilarious, Crazy and sad all at the same time. Can’t a girl have a drink, let the steam off and just relax without some egotistical guy trying to claim his fame to her.. Silliness in the world.

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