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Now in her sixties, Julia is not clad in leather or the killer red stilettos one often imagines female brothel keepers to wear. Instead, she is a friendly, ordinary looking woman. The young women working in her home as prostitutes clearly adore and respect her. I don’t interfere with their business, I don’t dictate the rates they charge, usually around R450 for 30 minutes. If they want to get out of the business, I support and even encourage them to do so if that’s what they want. Some even work at an office by day and come here on weekends or at night without any family knowing. They are intelligent young women at the mercy of their financial circumstances, so who is society to judge their choices without knowing anything about their lives,?
Someone I would imagine baking cupcakes for a school event. ” Julia asks, as she shouts intermittent instructions to the women - from answering the phone to opening the gates for waiting clients.
Thirty minutes later, they emerge, satisfied smiles etched across their faces as they make their payment, wave their goodbyes and disappear into the night.
The women engage in ordinary banter, occasionally interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.
It’s the same ritual - women are selected before accompanying the men to the rooms leading out of the lounge, and business is concluded 30 minutes later.
It’s a fascinating insight into the oldest profession in the world - controlled and carried out by women.
They are warmly greeted and within seconds make their selection from the women sprawling across the sofas as Julia and I watch from a distance on the patio.
Fluffy towels are drawn from a closet and the men are escorted to the rooms for the business of the night.
People don’t spend the same money any more,” says Julia, the “madam” or owner. I take them in, and they pay me for the use of the room, by the hour. Some are single mothers, somestudents, some have husbands who drop them off at what they think is an office job.“I married at a young age and was never allowed to work. It’s close to 11pm and the night is in full swing as I rejoin Julia on the patio. I just wish society would stop judging us.” Julia encourages regulation of the sex industry and welcomes Ramaphosa’s new plan.After my divorce I tried to find work and eventually gave up when I couldn’t find anything that would sustain me and my son. It’s very difficult to cope in a normal world after you’ve entered this one, and the money is an easy motivator. The late night has mellowed her as she too begins to share her thoughts. When I was younger and working as a sex worker, one of my clients was surprised when he saw my books. “Regulation would allow sex workers to operate without being abused,” she says.But it all goes up in a puff of smoke within seconds.The young man puts out his cigarette, apologises, and is waved in with his friends. The smoker is a young Indian man, no more than 23, accompanied by three others of a similar age and by an elderly Indian man who looks to be in his sixties.