The Euro Star

Tetee, Fabine and I turn down a narrow alley off Benson Street. We are looking for the women who sell market, the term for drug dealers. As soon as Tetee says what we're after, a man called Emmanuel clasps my arms to direct us back to the street. "What are you going to tell the people? Tell them nothing about this place. If you don't be careful, we will harm you!" a man yells after us. Emmanuel leads us to a small shop called The Euro Star. Following is Gladys, a bone-thin 28-year-old prostitute and heroin user in a yellow Michael Jackson tank top and a short puff of hair. Tetee knew Gladys from her student days, when she lived in Clara Town, one of Monrovia's worst slums, and had interviewed for her for her radio program the day before. In the back of the shop is a flourescent lit video club where men sip cider and malt and watch American movies. Gladys demands cash, saying she will use it to lure the dealers to a meeting with us. We are opposed to bribes though and we know she would probably, as Tetee says, "eat that money."