Posted on November 24, 2009


(Excerpt of an in vitro novel “Bloody Management” for NaNoWriMo. Unfettered, unedited, but not dispirited. From chapter 19, “Prayer”.)

It was carminegetting bright and the people awoke in the village, while seven black women from Nigeria kissed six stubbly men and one woman good-night. The woman had more hair between her legs than any of the men had on their faces. Of the six men, four returned to their wives, who were happy to feel them next to themselves, though they did not know this consciously, only their sleeping bodies made the appropriate signs of mild, friendly grunting and lurched tossing. When the men slipped into bed, they breathed quietly not to wake their wives and, closing their eyes, saw the shapes of the black women they had been with, faceless shapes, gyrating around a dark cauldron in which the women brewed the secret solution that made white men obsess about them. This was a hallucination of course, but a powerful one. In truth, the seven women were chatting their way through last night’s events, drinking strong herbal tea and massaging each others’ necks. Being a whore was an acrobatic emotional feat, though once you had got used to it, it became routine work, as long as you had proper boundaries. None of the women had such boundaries. They had not been brought up with them, so they left themselves completely open to their customers and fell in love, every one of them, each night. The customers returned from them believing that they had been with a hooker, a secret secretion of their sorrows as men, while their bodies were bewitched forever by sirens, who themselves were only semi-conscious of their true powers. If they’d been fully conscious of them, they’d have rented an appartement in Whitehall and taken over the country by commanding its male, love-starved politicians. But they were proud Africans and they had no interest in a small island  with lousy weather and an altogether provincial mindset as far as most things, apart from music and banking were concerned.