A night on the streets of Mutare

inseparable – probably kissing and hugging while the loners are either pacing up and down or pretending to make a call from their mobile phones.
Suddenly, there is a stampede and they all scurry away for cover – some going into the flat on whose wall they had been reclining while others literally sprint into the darkness.
The source of the panic and the resultant stampede is a group of police officers on patrol.

Indeed, the police details give chase.
They split into two groups. Some enter the flat while others go after those who have decided to run for dear freedom.
After a while, everything is back to normal. The police details have just departed and a few scantly dressed ladies gather their nerves to venture into the deserted streets once again.
My colleague calls out to them and they immediately rush over to our vehicle.

“Why have you been running away and why are the police chasing you?” my friend quizzes them.
One of them – only identified as Fatima opens up and starts narrating their story.
“They want to arrest us. It is an offence to be found loitering at this time of the night or even just standing outside with our partners like we were doing.
“That place is well-known for harbouring commercial sex workers so the police always make frequent raids. This is part of an operation they call Chipo Chiroorwa,” she said.

At this point I decide to join the discussion. “What is the name of that place from which the police were chasing you and what else is done there besides ‘harbouring commercial sex workers’ as you put it?” I asked.
Fatima looks me straight in the eyes and asks: “Are you visiting Mutare for the first time? Everybody who comes to Mutare knows the Balmoral Lodge.
“There are lodgings there and most of these ladies rent rooms on daily basis and that is where they take their clients after agreeing terms, so police know it is a fertile hunting ground and they are also prowling there every night.”

By then Fatima’s friends have realised that there are no prospects of business coming out of the talk and have started moving away in the direction of another night spot where loud music is playing.
After the ladies disappear into an alley, we drive to the entrance of the flat keen to find out what happens inside.
The gentleman at the reception is very courteous. He immediately welcomes us after lying that we were looking for overnight accommodation.
“We have enough rooms here. The choice will be all yours. If you want those for singles it is up to you, but if you want shared ones we also have people who can help you warm up to your new environment,” he says.

As he is saying this he gestures to an old man who later identifies himself as Peter to come and take us upstairs to see the rooms.
“Muno mune zvese. Kana mwechida akatsvuka kana akasvibirira tinoronga.
“Pane umwe akapenga unogara muroom iri pacorner iyo,” said the old man with a stubborn twinkle in his eyes bolstered by an accent that left one wondering if he was Malawian or Manyika by descent.

(We have everything here. If you ladies light or dark in complexion we can organise it. There is one good one who stays in that just by the corner).
Peter then explains that they charged between US$20 and US$25 for a room.
“At the moment there are about 25 rooms that are vacant. Some have already been taken up. These ladies rent them on a daily basis.

“They pay US$20 every morning so they have the freedom of the room and can bring their clients for service any time they feel like,” he said. He then explains that it is up to visitors either to choose such rooms that had occupants already and enjoy their hospitality or the unoccupied rooms and enjoy their solitude.
Peter surprisingly claims that he does not know the owner of the building despite having earlier boasted that he had nursed the “boss’s” son who was at the reception since he was a toddler in 1957.

The son also similarly tells us to mind the sleeping business that we had come for and not the identity of the premises’ owners, so we come unstuck.
One of the lady occupants who confesses to have been staying on the premises for a very long time also says that she does not know the owner’s name even though he used to come there in the company of his wife.
“The man is making a lot of money here. Imagine we pay US$20 each morning and our clients sometimes are hoodwinked into paying for the same rooms for which we would have paid.
“Every month he collects close to or the equivalent of US$500 from each room and there are about 45 rooms here,” she says.

She says on a good day she pockets between US$80 and US$100 from her services while on a bad day she always gets something between US$35 and US$40, which leaves her capacitated to pay for her room on a daily basis.
“We charge only US$5 for a short and quick romp while for the entire night we accept anything between US$15 and US$30 depending on how the client negotiates,” she says.

She also reveals that she was successfully sending her child to school back at her rural home in Watsomba using proceeds from her profession.
“My mother is very old. She stays with my kid and I fend for the two.

“Our profession can be very rewarding if you know the right people to associate with while doing your best to maintain your good looks as well,” she says with a stubborn smile vainly separating her thin and smoke hardened lips.
The goings-on at the Balmoral Lodge have set in motion a vicious circle in which air-time vendors also prey on the ladies’ clients and in return alert them whenever the police approaches.