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Read the rest of Issue 10 here: https://issuu.com/move.methods.visual.explore/docs/izwi_lethu_issue_10_v.3_final__inte
MoVE: Showcasing of New Work!
A Place of My Own
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 8, October 2015
by Makzo
It happened that I faced hard times a few months back with the work that I am doing. I hardly got clients. I walked home with not more than a hundred rand a day, so I ended up facing hard times as well in my relationship. My boyfriend became so abusive that he would demand money for himself to buy alcohol and drugs, and if I didn’t have the money he would beat me up. Sometimes I did not go to work because I couldn’t move out of the bed. While I was in that situation, he would demand sex, and if I denied him, he would throw me out of the house and embarrass me in front of people. I had been in this relationship for more than a year. I had to force myself to stay with someone so abusive because I needed a place to live. I thought that he would change one day. He would start swearing, calling me names like you whore, magosha, street kid. He said you are nobody because he knew my back ground at home. That hurt me so much. I chose to move out and stay with my friends. It was okay at the beginning, because I was out of the abusive house. I tried to pull myself together to live. My friends started gossiping about me, and now I had to find my own place to stay. They felt that I was overcrowding them in their space. I had to move back to the township because I could not afford rentals any more in town. I am now renting my own place in the township.
Editor’s Note
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 8, October 2015
by Tanaka
Dear Reader,
As we draw close to the end of the year, there is a series of exciting events lined up. These include Sixteen Days of Activism Against Women and Children Abuse, World AIDS Day, International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers, and many more!
For those that have not been saving money during the course of the year, too bad. Christmas is around the corner and I can see 2016 peeping from the same corner. I can’t imagine the festive season with empty pockets.
Nonetheless, no need to despair. So much can be done in the couple of months left and the little you save can go a long way.
In this last quarter of the year, there is excitement all over and people often lose their lives too. Have fun, but also please be safe!
Though the year is almost through, we have some exciting articles coming up in our November/December double issue. In the meantime, enjoy these powerful stories this month’s featured writers and be sure to listen to them voice their stories on MoVE’s blog: methodsvisualexplore.tumblr.com
Till next month…
Love,
Tanaka
Like Mother Like Daughter
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 7, Special Limpopo Edition
by Theresa
Please don’t do sex work in front of your children because they might follow in your footsteps. One day my daughter who was ten years old asked me, “Why do people do sex work?”
When she asked me this question I felt shocked because I had no idea that she knew what sex work was. I replied to her in a polite way by asking her, “Why are you saying this? What do you know about sex work? Who told you that people work as sex workers?”
She replied quickly, “Mom, you always leave at night, where are you going?”
I responded to her by saying that I worked as a security guard and so I had to work at night in hopes that she would get confused and stop insisting that she knew that I was selling sex. She didn’t believe me and so we started to argue.
She said to me, “But you also carry condoms with you!”
I tried to convince her that I sold condoms at work but she didn’t believe me. She told me everything about what she knew about the Choice condoms saying, “At Love Life [an after school program at her school] we learn about Choice condoms and that they are not for sale.” She exclaimed, “They are free and are used for HIV protection during sexual intercourse!”
I just looked at her not showing her that what she was saying was making me feel very confused. Inside I was feeling embarrassed, but I didn’t want her to know how I was feeling because I wanted her to keep telling me what she knew about sex work and why she believed that I was a sex worker. She continued insisting that she knew that I was a sex worker: “When you come back from work you always bring a different guy with you.”
At that moment, I realised that I needed to change where I conducted my business because I wanted to respect my daughter. This conversation made me think about the time when I was a young teenager. I used to admire the way my mother earned a living. My mother was a sex worker and brought different clients home. One beautiful morning while sitting in the dining room at my mother’s house, I asked her, “Why can’t you stick with one boyfriend? Why do you have so many boyfriends? Today this is my father, tomorrow another one is my father. Why are you doing this?’’
It was boring me. I wanted to know the reason that she had so many different men at the house because I knew that everything happened for a reason. I wanted to know if this is the way everyone was living their lives. She answered, “I’m raising money to look after you.” A week later, I told my friend Sophia about my mom. Sophia was also interested in sex work business, so we agreed to run away from home and start doing sex work. I was gone for five months and when I got back home, I didn’t have a problem explaining to my mother what I had been doing. I just told my mother that I have followed in your footsteps! My mother was a sex worker that’s why I’m a sex worker, and I’m proud to be a sex worker. I wasn’t forced into sex work but this doesn’t mean that I want my daughter to be a sex worker.
Frustrated, Confused, and Scared: Struggles of being black listed and not knowing why
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 7, Special Limpopo Issue
by Sandra
I am a migrant sex worker from a rural area in Zimbabwe, and I have been living in South Africa since 2009. I decided to move away from my home because I was struggling. I was unemployed and wanted to support myself, my mother, my sister’s three children (she had passed away), and my own three children. I have always sent money home every month, and I try to visit my family every two to three months. For six years, I moved across the border without a problem, and then to my surprise on my way to Zimbabwe in 2014 I learned that I was black listed. When I handed my passport to the immigration officer at the South African border to stamp, she told me that I was black listed. I asked, “What have I done?” She just said, “You are on the V-list”. I kept asking her what a V-list was and what it meant to be on the list. She responded in a rough way to me and said, “You must go to the South African Embassy in Harare, Zimbabwe, to solve your matter”. When I heard her speak to me in a rude way, I felt pain. I did not know why I was black listed and felt worried about what this meant. I could leave South Africa but I was afraid that I might not be able to return legally. I was nervous that I would have to pay a fine when I visited the South African Embassy, so I worked for a month in Zimbabwe to save money to pay a fine and to pay for my transport to Harare.
When I finally went to the Embassy nothing worked as I imagined. I thought that if I arrived with money to pay a fine that they would take care of my issue. Instead, they told me that I was doing illegal business in South Africa and that this is why I was on the V-list. They said that records of my fingerprints were reflected on their system. Even though he was friendly, he couldn’t help me. He said, “You have been involved in illegal activity in South Africa”. I asked him, “OK, how much is the fine?” He didn’t tell me. He gave me a phone number and email address and said that I had to take care of this situation on the Zimbabwean border to South Africa. When I arrived at the place where the he told me to go they gave me the same phone number and email address. I tried to call the number many times and when I explained my issue they dropped the call. I emailed them and still no answer.
I was really worried the whole of last year thinking that I am the only person with this issue but I learned that there are many people on the V-list and not all of them are sex workers.
As a result being on the V-list, I am now a border jumper. Even my bank account in South Africa has been blocked. My frustration is that the people at the Home Affairs offices and at the Embassy do not want to tell me what I need to do so that I can solve this problem.
I am not free anywhere in South Africa because of this V-list. Because I am a border jumper everything that I am doing in South Africa is considered illegal. I don’t have a voice. I am afraid of being arrested. I don’t have any rights to stay in South Africa. My frustration is that no matter what the crime you have to know and understand what you have done, but since I don’t know I can’t do anything and since South Africa is my home things are very complicated for me.
http://issuu.com/move.methods.visual.explore/docs/izwi_lethu_musina_2015
Gay Male Sex Worker
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 7, Special Limpopo Edition
by Tafadzwa
It isn’t easy being a gay male sex worker in Musina. I do sex work mainly because I want to support myself and my mother. While out there in the streets, I am exposed to many challenges like police officers and clients who don’t really understand much about gay male sex workers. One time I was arrested on the street. I was wearing my red mini skirt, white body top, Brazilian wig, high heels, and black handbag. The policeman had many questions. Heasked me, “You are a man. What are you doing here among women?”
I told him, “I am at work as you can see.”
He said, “You sell sex to other men or what?”
I said to him, “Some men only want anal sex and a blow job.”
He said, “Why don’t you find another job than do this? Shame on you!”
I said to him, “This is what I really want. It’s my choice.”
He said, “A man doing sex work? I never came across this. Why mara?”
I said to him, “That’s how I support myself. How else can I pay my bills?”
Then he arrested me and took me to the police station. He asked to jump up and down to see if my breasts jiggled. My wig was taken off. My genitals were groped and breasts were squeezed. I was then ordered to take off all my clothes and another policeman took me down the corridor nude. I stood in front of the male detainees, and the policeman asked if this is a man or woman. “Would you pay to have sex with him?” They called me magosha and other sexual slurs. I was so humiliated.
The police ministry should provide intensive training to police officers on sex workers’ rights, transgender sex workers, and awareness that breaking these laws respecting human rights will mean that serious action is taken against them. Also there should be a system in place that’s not affiliated with law enforcement that monitors reports of police brutality against transgender sex workers. They should not allow solo police officers to raid the streets alone because police officers working alone often ask for bribes. An advocate or two officers should be present when police make arrests of sex workers.
http://issuu.com/move.methods.visual.explore/docs/izwi_lethu_musina_2015
Sex Worker as Teachers
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 7, Special Limpopo Edition
by Tendai
Who told you that sex workers are not educated? I am angry because that is a myth. There are graduates with diplomas who are also sex workers. Peer educators who are sex workers talk and teach other sex workers about the importance of using condoms. Sex workers are like everyone else in the world. They are being tested for HIV/AIDS and a few of them are positive. It means sex workers are condomising. Peer educators are encouraging HIV positive sex workers to be on treatment because no single person should die of AIDS.
Peer educators are also role models to the community. They are involved in the Integrated Access to Care and Treatment (IACT) program every Monday and Thursday at Makhado. Peer educators run support groups and health talks that are open to the community.
On the 15th of June, peer educators were at a clinic giving a health talk. A man asked them, “Why do you teach people to condomise but you are prostitutes?” One of the peer educators said, “We are just giving you information so that you know.” Another peer educator told the man he was discriminating against sex workers.
People from the community in Makhado used to call sex workers names like “magosha” but now some people call us teachers. When sex worker peer educators pass a tavern, the people will call “Teachers, come teach us!” They want us to teach them about health issues and rights. Even the nurses respect us.
One of the city ward counsellors from Makhado, who is handsome, light brown in complexion and medium built, appreciates our work and said, “You are doing a great job to the community. You have to use the community hall for free.”
Sex workers are role models for the community because they teach the community and should not be stigmatised. They are human beings. Sex workers are mothers; they are also breadwinners because they support themselves and their families. I urge you all no matter what you do for your job to be courageous and know your status as it is for the best.
I Don’t Care What You Think: It’s My Choice!
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 7, Special Limpopo Edition
by Rumbasi
When my mother retired from her cleaning job that she had at a supermarket in town, life became very hard. The only money that we had was the R180 that I received from the Child Support Grant. This little money had to buy food and clothes and pay for electricity for myself, my baby, my young brother, and my mom.
At 18 years, old I decided to drop out of school so I could work as a sex worker full time. So I moved 44 kilometers away from my village to the town of Makhado where I could sell sex.
I had been selling sex part time for maybe a year before I moved. Sometimes I would travel to town afterschool and during holidays to sell sex, but in order to support my family I needed to make more than half-time money.
When I stayed in Makhado, I rented a room with the money that I got on the street, and soon life became good. I was making enough money to support my family and I was managing to go home once every month to see them and give them money. I stayed in town because I wanted to keep my job a secret from my family, but the news spread and soon some villagers started saying that I was a sex worker. These rumours began because some guys saw me on the street in Makhado and started gossiping about what I was doing there. After eight or nine years, I decided to move back to my home in the village. Now, instead of living in town I travel to town for work. I made the decision to move back home because my mom was getting old and the house work was hard for her. It was hard for her to look after my kid and take her to school every day. It was also hard for her to manage the cooking and cleaning by herself.
Now, every day when I wake up in the morning I see my daughter before she goes to school. I clean and cook every day, and I get to help my daughter with her homework. My mother is so happy that I am there with them. There is no one else that can look after her. My other sisters and brothers are far away from her so it’s good that I am there. I am very happy to be back home.
Sometimes, the people in my village make me feel like I am not welcome. Because of the work that I do they think that I will spread HIV/AIDS and STIs. They sometimes call me bad names but, I don’t care! I live my life as I want to live it! I choose this job! No one forced me into the industry! It’s my choice and I am proud of my job!
http://issuu.com/move.methods.visual.explore/docs/il_issue6_september2015
An Abused Woman
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 7, Special Limpopo Edition
by Nina
Mona was a short, beautiful girl. She was intelligent, but she was not going to school. She was staying with her mother and her grandfather in South Africa. Her mother got married to a Zimbabwean man and went to Zimbabwe. She left Mona with her grandfather because she did not want him to know that she already had another child at home. Mona’s mother was blessed with another two boys and one girl with her new husband in Zimbabwe.
Mona’s grandfather started sleeping with her. When he heard that people knew about what he was doing, he sold her to an old husband for a little money far from the village where Mona was staying. At that time, Mona was 12 years old.
When Mona was 18 years old, her mother came back to South Africa. She started working on a nearby farm. When Mona heard that, she went to live with her mother. She fell in love for the first time with a Zimbabwean guy who took her to Pretoria where she was blessed with two daughters and one boy.
One day Mona decided that she needed a South African ID book, but she needed her birth certificate so she went to the farm to ask if her mother could help her. Her mother refused because she didn’t want her husband to know that Mona was her first born. It was painful to Mona to go without an ID document because Mona was growing old and didn’t have ID. Police arrest people who do not have ID documents. She went back to Pretoria without it.
If you are someone who does not have good relatives who love you or who do not take care of you, then anything can happen to you. When Mona came back to Pretoria, she shared her problem with her husband. Her husband changed. He started to beat her every day. One day he stabbed her with a knife. Her neighbour called Mama Sesi felt pity for her, and she helped her with transport money to go back to the farm where her mother lived.
Mona started to work at the farm. She was very confused. She was drinking alcohol every day even when she was at work. She ended up being chased from work. Because Mona did not have support from anyone, she ended up killing herself.
I am sharing this story because we are celebrating Women’s Month. Mona killed herself because she didn’t have anyone to talk to or anyone to help her. It is better for us as sex workers because we have Sisonke, a movement of sex workers, which was formed by sex workers. It helps us with Creative Space, where we share our challenges. Before we had Sisonke, we suffered like Mona.
http://issuu.com/move.methods.visual.explore/docs/izwi_lethu_musina_2015
My Life, My Choice, My Mistake
from Izwi Lethu, Issue 7, Special Limpopo Edition
by Poppy
Because of many challenges that I faced in my life, I ended up in the sex work industry. I have worked inside hotels and on the streets. I have survived many challenges in life, like being raped and getting HIV and AIDS. There are a lot of sex workers I saw who died in the industry; some have been killed by cruel clients and others by HIV/AIDS.
In 2008 I got a job at Sisonke Sex Work Movement in Limpopo. I have worked for Sisonke for years. The money I got from this job and my sex work job, I saved it. I bought a stand and built a house.
I helped my mother to renovate her house and bought her nice furniture. I pay my kid’s school fund and transport money to school and saved the rest of the money. After many years on the street, I decided to quit sex work and live a better life as I was tired of being harassed by clients and police.
Soon after I quit sex work, I fell in love with a handsome, loving, and caring man. Life was good. I loved and trusted him. I thought that he was my soul mate, that he was the one that God made for me. I gave him my trust not knowing I was making a mistake in my life.
After a year of being together he changed. He showed me his true colours. He took all the pay I earned from Sisonke and spent it with girls drinking. When I was a sex worker, I was independent. With this man I was living in hell in the house I built with my money. Life became hard, no money to take care of myself and my kid. I worked hard for him to have a better life, but he did not appreciate it.
I loved him very much, but the way he treated me gave me no other option than to tell him to leave my house. My rights were violated by police and clients on the street, and then I was facing abuse by my boyfriend in my own house.
I am a woman, and I have rights to freedom. I need to be treated with dignity. Even though I am a sex worker, I still have the same rights as any other South African citizen.