From left: Leona, Colletta and Zaliya.

It was 9pm Friday and men in cars drifted by casually. Frequently they stopped, exchanging brief hush words with even younger men who eventually climb in - with the sole purpose of offering their bodies for money.

The car speeds up, disappearing into the night. It's some twenty minutes later before I set eyes on them again. This scene played over and over again throughout the three hours spent on popular Narara Parade, Lautoka.

Prostitution. Sex worker. Transvestites. Desperado. Hard up. Call it what you want but it's a deadly way to make a living.

Some are there by choice. Others by circumstances.

However, there is a common thread to all their stories.

Rejected and ridiculed by their families, they are paying a devastating price for their sexual orientation.

Without a home or family they have found friends in each other and unashamedly taken to the streets despite the risks and stigma associated with the lifestyle.

Abusive language
That night as in most nights, abuse was hurled in the form of homosexual slurs.

Throughout their shift, as they like to call it, each had to endure derogatory remarks and ridicule from passengers of passing vehicles, mostly made up of indigenous men.

For the record, I did not encounter any females working the Narara stretch or the surrounding areas that night.

Casting their eyes in the way of the abusive rhetoric, the "girls" reported they tried their hardest to avoid indigenous clients.

"If you ask about bad experiences, let me tell you there's none of us here who hasn't been through one. Some clients ask for service and then refuse to pay while some take us far away from the city, sometimes to remote isolated areas and abandon us there," young and good looking Leona offered.

"Because of physique we try to avoid the indigenous clients. Some can get very rough and abusive so we just want to avoid all that."

Outspoken
Leona, who could pass off as a young girl because of his trim figure and flowing curls, was candid and very outspoken about the reasons why he was selling sex. One of them was being confronted with the reality that few doors open without proper education.

"I am 23-years old. I started doing this when I was 17. I have three sisters and two brothers and my family did not accept what I was becoming. I left home because I could not be myself, could not express myself and do things I was comfortable with.

"This job that I have guarantees that I pay my rent and buy my food. Sadly, now that I am on the streets, I am being accepted by my family. But this is what I do now and I intend to do this for a while. Ironically, these earnings also allow me to help my family during emergencies."

At that point Zaliya, 23, interrupted and introduced himself as Leona's flat mate.

He did not hesitate to explain that his dad was a prominent Muslim from Nadi while his mother was a native Fijian.

Rejection
Dressed in a body fitting strapless dress, accessorised by heavy make-up, Zaliya seemed in control, appeared very confident.

He generously offered a seat on the verandah of a store on the corner of Narara Parade where they were taking a cigarette break.

Already seated on that cold concrete floor which was high enough to allow our legs to hang, was soft spoken 26-year-old Colletta.

Like Leona, they both said that rejection of their lifestyle made them leave home, setting them on a path that quickly led to a career as a male prostitute.

"Most of us live together in groups. We all met and made friends right here," Zaliya said in between flagging down a truck and passing car.

A few minutes later he was climbing into one of the vehicles and gone.

Another taxi pulled up. Suddenly appearing from nowhere, three "girls" in super tight mini skirts approach the driver.

One passenger was visible in the front seat.

Just as quickly as they appeared, the "girls" retreated, moving away as quickly as they could from the car.

"What happened?" I asked Miss Hideaway, who talked a lot yet did not want any pictures of him taken.

"Oilei, Kai Vee!," he replied in a sing song voice.

While he was still strutting towards us another taxi pulled up.

Leona was chatting up the driver and front passenger in no time.

However, after a few exchanges, he made his way back.

"No way. Front passenger was kai vee and another Indian passenger knocked out at the back. We might be desperate but not that desperate," Leona said. From the corner of my eye I saw another "girl" who had just climbed into a car was off again like a bat out of hell.

"Who wants to go to Saweni?" he asked as he approached the group that was growing in numbers.

Nobody volunteered and soon the car was pulling away.

So what was all that all about, I asked.

"When we go to the window, we start to negotiate. During that time we assess the client. Whether he can pay or not, genuine or not and whether we feel safe. All of us are very careful in making that choice before we climb into the car. Fijians are not good clients. Two clients at once is a bit risky and Saweni is kinda just too far. We have had too many experiences where we have been stranded and have to walk for miles," Leona said.

Ill-treatment
They then told stories of police ill treatment, especially in Nadi where street workers were punched and thrown into the sea at Wailoaloa. They had to find their way out of there and out of shame and fear never reported the matter.

So what about other risks like AIDS?

"Well, we all use condoms. We talk about this a lot and we know the risks. It even reaches the stage that where the client refuses to wear a condom, we refuse the service. Despite what people think, we value our lives," they said, pulling out satchets of the contraceptive from their bags.

As cigarettes lit up the dark area we occupied, more of them appeared from the side streets asking for a roll.

For some, their faces reflected how uncomfortable they were in talking about what they do.

They were quiet and just listened in before rushing towards cars that cruised slowly by.

While money is the driving force, I also found that some were there by choice, like one who was the son of a senior civil servant.

In his home, where his kind are strongly abhorred, selling sex is the only way he can find male partners.

"I don't know what they will do if I get seen out here. They give me money but I also want to enjoy myself," he said.

And as if to justify his actions, he said, "Well, we also have students here, high school students who come for the reason of making money to pay for school fees."

"Oh yes they do," he said when he saw my head snap at the others questioningly.

"Give me your number and we will call you when they are here. There's a lot of money in this when the nights are good. Some clients already have their favourites so they just come looking for them And for those of us who know, we don't approach them."

A good night
A "good" night will earn them up to $80 with clients paying anything between $10 to $40 for different services. Rent for most of them is $350. And then there is the expenses for the must have night attire.

Where do they get such skimpy, shimmering, body hugging outfits? Value City.

"They know what we like so when we go there they would have sorted out stuff that we like and keep it aside especially for us," Zaliya explained.

Nodding in agreement Colletta smoothed her mini skirt only to look up suddenly, calmly asking Leona to "see who's that".

As Leona got up to scout the top of the building I heard him laughing.

Colleta calmly posed the question: "Was it Christina?". "No", came the reply, "it's Britany".

Curious, I asked if there were people on the balcony above us.

"No, lewa," explained Colletta, "I just had a dove poop on my lap. There's a lot of them up there. We just so used to it we name them after these stars, like they would do something like that because they're jealous. It keeps us from getting frustrated because we need a place to sit."

We all burst out laughing.

As midnight approached, the group still out on the street agreed that it was time to hit the clubs and try their luck inside. We strutted to the nightclub located a block away. After 10 minutes and a stubby I headed home with a mix of sweat and cigarette.

Male prostitution is a world apart but they all have the same story.

Unlike females who end up on the street because of broken homes, drugs and incest, many young men end up on the streets because of their sexual orientation disowned by their family for being a homosexual.

Photo credit: Fiji Times

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