Legalise the sex trade? Not on African soil!

By Cynthia Ayeza Mutabaazi

Almost every evening, between Troy and Beckett Streets, along Schoeman Street in Arcadia, Pretoria, a certain darkness falls upon the area. The prostitute trade thrives greatly here and the street lights never come on for some reason.

I have noticed for some time now that the police seem to play a huge role in furthering this trade. On Fridays, for example, several police cars will be parked along Schoeman Street, between Celliers and Lleyds Streets. From a distance, the flashing blue lights give the impression that the police are there on business. They sure must be; just a different kind of business, I suppose.

A closer look reveals prostitutes and policemen casually chatting, laughing loudly; pimps high-fiving with the police like old friends or tight buddies etc. It really is a surreal picture.

You see, my problem with Schoeman Street, is the thriving trade in prostitution and I feel that the police are not doing much to change that. If anything, they seem to be encouraging the trade. One minute the girls are running into the flats to presumably avoid arrest, and then on a different day it is safe to sell “some”, even with the police around. Why?

Some of these girls are as young as 15. I know because I have chatted with some of them; and they are very beautiful. A strange thing too, at least on Schoeman, is that the pimps all seem to have the unmistakable, heavy and aggressive West African accent.

Despite the world’s general moral degeneration, the nature of prostitution, for me is intrinsically tied to human trafficking. Some of these young girls speak Zulu, but there are some that are evidently non-South African nationals. I cannot help wondering how they got here. Who brought them here? Why did they leave home? How did they get to join the prostitution trade?

So many thoughts plague my mind about these girls. It is even more heartbreaking to see most of them with horrible burns evidently from cigarettes, scars, swollen faces and body parts, a fear in their eyes — especially a fear of the pimp and what he might do if they do not work. Most of them are skinny and look malnourished. Do they eat properly? I doubt it.

It is common for residents in the area to be woken up at 3am by a prostitute’s screams and cries for mercy, while she is being loudly pounded with fists. Should I be bothered by all this? Should it be my moral responsibility to do something? What can I do? I really have no idea.

But seeing that little 15-year-old tells me that someday my child might be coaxed into this morally, emotionally, physically, psychologically and among other things, socially destructive practice and trade.

I will never understand why a 50-something man, driving a polished Mercedes, partakes in not only buying sex (it’s inevitable) but especially paying to have sex with a child — someone who could be his child or even grandchild.

If you do that, why not take your own children out there and pimp them?

And why are the police “chilling” with the prostitutes and pimps? Catching up on the day’s earnings and losses? Perhaps discussing the need for some fresh girls since the numbers seem to increase on a weekly basis, while other faces disappear. Are they sold off? Killed? Abducted? Do they run away?

What are the police doing to help turn Schoeman into a safe and respectable street? Never mind the drug abuse going on. I cannot imagine being in this kind of trade and not have to use drugs to numb me and perhaps ease my ability to trade my body! We cannot hope to build a strong, better Africa like this — surely not through the sex trade. I hope it never gets legalised. Not on African soil.

Ayeza is studying for an MA in culture and media studies at the University of Pretoria