Wenze Wenze

I don’t know what you did last weekend, but I spent my Saturday with a few prostitutes. I’m quite sure I’m not the only one who did so in this town, and I hope I’m not the only one who watched someone put a condom on.

I suspect though that my visit involved a bit more shouting and a bit less nudity than some others’, though one can never be sure.

Who can tell me what this looks like?
Syphilis! shout the prostitutes.

I expect that these women are better at identifying the sexually-transmitted maladies shown on these horrific flash-card photos than most GPs.

Remember to get a good look at your partner’s genitals in the light before you do it, the health worker continues.

The health worker holds up a box of condoms and the women cry Wenze wenze! ‘Everywhere, everywhere’ in Lingala. Wenze alone refers to the small markets popping up all over town. ‘They’re everywhere: get them, use them’ is the message.

The box the health worker holds up is a box of three condoms, not unlike what’s sold in the back corner of American pharmacies right next to the home pregnancy tests, an unsubtle hint. The 3-condom box costs between 50 and 100 Congolese francs or between 10 and 20 US cents, depending on which neighbourhood you’re in and what time of night it is. A roll in the hay with one of the prostitutes sitting in front of me costs between 800 and 1000FC or in the neighbourhood of two dollars. A normal day for these women includes about 8 clients.

These prostitutes are not like the ones I see in my neighbourhood. They are not decked out in mini-skirts and heels and have not flashed me their wares. They are between the ages of about 20 and 45 and wear traditional pagne fabric tucked at the waist as they pull a toddler up onto their hips by the child’s stray arm. They are not from Kinshasa.

The group laughs as two of the prostitutes roll-play a condom negotiation. In a culture where homosexuality is so taboo it’s nonexistent, the ‘client’ caresses the prostitute’s breast unabashedly as he offers her an extra 500FC for the chance at skin on skin, flesh on flesh. Come on. I’m not sick. The prostitute agrees.

The health worker is disappointed. Who can show me good condom negotiation skills? A second pair of prostitutes approaches to give the roll-play a go. Once again, the ‘client’ wins by topping up his offer. It’s not until the third try that the condom wins out over the cash. You might not be sick but you don’t know who else I have been with. It’s safer for us both.

These lines ring familiar in my head and I wonder how many women in my own social circle have tried the same lines on their partners. Is there a line for every smart person out there who negotiates to use a condom? Is there one line that makes us come undone and give up that which we know can protect us, can save our life? A dollar or a hundred dollars or an I love you.

Wenze, wenze. There’s a break in donor funds and in the coming months, condoms will be harder and harder to find in this city of 8 million. Wenze wenze. The HIV testing centre these women are referred to has closed down and its transport vouchers are a memory. Wenze wenze.

I watch the condom demonstration as the prostitutes show off their expert application and removal skills with glee while their peers whoop in the background. They know what they’re doing. They know the risks.

Wenze wenze.