But For Male Prostitutes, I Fell For Paris

By Keturah Kamugasa
I AM in love. Oh yes, I am madly in love. Like all love affairs, my love for Paris did not happen overnight. Neither did I fall in love at first sight. Oh no!
I arrived in Paris with my colleague John Eremu, on August 31, at around 8:00 pm. We were not at the Charles de Gaulle Airport by our hosts. Perhaps they wanted us to discover the French language in an adventurous way.
I hardly know French and neither did Eremu. So when a taxi driver approached us, all the little French I knew deserted me. The only sentence I could recall was “donnez moi une banana sil vous plait!” (“give me a banana please!”)
Now, I could hardly tell a strange man in a strange city to give me a banana, could I? He could easily misunderstand me. Suddenly, I heard Eremu say: “Taxi!” The taxi driver said the fare was 50 Euros but our hosts had said 45. I quickly whipped out my calculator, entered the figure 45 and nodded at the man with a serious, “don’t-bully-me” look. “Ah Qui!” he said to my relief.
After getting lost a few times, we finally got to our destination. Hotel Nicolo was quite unusual as we were to learn that night.
The receptionist’s English was worse than our French. Asked whether there was a bell boy to carry our luggage to our room, he waved his arms in the air all the time saying: “No, no, no!”
“Zis two star otel,” he explained brandishing two fingers like a sword. “Carry ze baggage using lift.”
The lift was as tiny as a closet but it worked. There was more in store for us. Hungry and exhausted, we trudged down the stairs to ask for supper. By now it was 9:30pm.
I did not expect the receptionist’s reaction when I asked for food. “Non, Non, non,” he said. I wondered whether food had an obscene meaning in French.
I was soon enlightened. “Zis Otel, notta restauranter. Go out eat,” he said. At 10:00pm we were walking around Rue de Passy looking for food.
I decided then that I hated France. But all this changed the next day when we went on a tour of Paris. I had never seen such beauty in one place before. The flowers, streets, buildings and the eiffel tower were mind blowing.
I was rather disappointed by the Eiffel Tower because it looked dull. What impre-ssed me though was that it was built in the 19th century for a World Exhibit-ion and has stood the test of time.
The roadside cafes, the beautifully crafted buildings and bridges were simply breathtaking. The people were friendly, taking time to say “Bonjour!” to everyone.
Paris is romantic. It is the norm here to see couples of all ages kissing at every corner, especially over the weekend when the sun is out. Little wonder when you look around. I noted with great interest that there were many statues of naked men around the city. Curiously, the statues of women had perky breasts and large feet! Very suggestive, don’t you think? Our new Ugandan friends, Mable and Daniel Kantinti took us on a tour of Paris by night. As we drove past the residence of the Saudi ambassador, we were told 30 Mercedes Benzes had been specially flown in from Germany for his use, talk about extravagance.
We drove on. There were handsome young men, black and white, dressed in trendy jeans and T-shirts, lining the streets. “These are the male prostitutes. You’re lucky they are dressed tonight,” Mable explained.
It did not take us long to figure out what she meant. We soon got to the red light district where prostitutes boldly expose their wares. On the right, was a tall man who looked odd. He was a transvestite who had silicon implants in his breasts. Everything he had to sell was literally hanging out.
On the left, a half naked woman was stopping a potential customer. Another emerged from the bush (read park) with a satisfied smirk on her face, counting money. Her private parts were out in the cold but she did not mind. Soon, another car stopped near her. Another customer, more money.
Down the street were two lone Japanese prostitutes. They looked much older than all the rest. No car stopped where they stood. This could have had a lot to do with the fact that they were fully clothed. For a while, I thought I had gone back in time to Sodom and Gomorrah. My shock was tangible as I exclaimed: “Oh my God!”
“There is a lot of competition between male and female prostitutes in this area,” Mable explained the nakedness. I wondered whe-ther prostitution was legal and she said: “In France, the government believes that as long as you are an adult, you can do whatever you want with your body.”
Despite my shock my love for Paris did not wane. Apart from Kampala, it is the first city I have been to and felt at home. Paris fills you with beautiful thoughts and once you enter its warm embrace, you fall in love forever.
Ends