Upon docking at the village and doing some sight seeing, we came upon a "massage clinic." Now Nikki had previously boasted about this wonderful spa experience she recently had and I had not had a spa session since November (since I was saving for this illustrious experience). We decided to pop in and check out the facility. There was a family of tourists who were on their way out and they seemed quite pleased. We decided to check out the prices. They weren't bad at all. A full body massage costed $20, which was more than a third cheaper than anything I could get in the States and amongst the more esteemed Spa's in India. But hey, we were in the village, so it was cheaper. The owner (whose title indicated that he was a "Dr.") informed us that the "Lady Dr.'s" would be another 20 minutes before they finished with the clients in the back. While we were trying to decide if we wanted the "spa" experience, I heard the clients in the back laughing and giggling. I'm like:
okay, they seem satisfied: let's do it.
When our time arrived, we proceeded to the back and two Indian women held back the curtains and we step into a small boxed off section that had two wooden tables. I was shocked to see two nude women in the bathing area which was connected to the small sectioned off area. Apparently, they were shocked to see us in their session and immediately closed the door. I explained to the lady that I was going to have a full body massage. She smiled and nodded before saying, "Off" as she points to my shirt. I'm like okay, no problem. However, I'm waiting for her to inform me as to where my gown/towel was at and then for her to leave the room. This is how it's done in the States. While these thoughts are penetrating through my mind, she emphatically says "Off" as she pulled on my sleeve. I'm like okay I guess I should start to undress. I remove my shirt and before I could get it off, she's pulling on my shorts stating once again: Off! So, there I stood, in my bra and panties as I was hesitant to take off my bra. Now, I'm not usually shy about de-robing for a spa session. I understand that a professional massager has to be able to reach all of the intricate muscles and tissues, so, why did I feel so....hesitant? Maybe because I was in a sectioned off room with three women, one of whom was pulling on my clothes. The bra is now off. I'm about to climb on the table when she looks at me frustratingly and says: OFF! Before I could questioned her, she starts to pull down my panties. I'm like whoooaahh! She then pulls out a thick piece of white cloth which was about 2 feet long and it had a string attached on it. She starts to put the cloth between my thighs. Okay, so, the cloth goes over your panties. I'm preparing to tie the cloth when she yanks and I do mean yanks my panties down. I grab her hand as she tries to pull them over my hips as I tell her: I'll do. So, off comes the panties and I'm butt naked with a cloth up the crack of my ass.
I climb on top of the oily (I don't guess they wash them off between customers) wooden table and she informs me to lie on my stomach. So, I'm lying on my stomach contemplating the hygiene of the facility when I feel a huge amount of oil poured over my entire body. Then comes her hands, rubbing the oil in. I'm thinking: isn't she supposed to concentrate on certain areas at a time? I then hear the voices of the two ladies who have now dressed and come out of the shower. Keep in mind that the bathing area is connected to this sectioned off room. So, there I lie, bare assed, greased and ready for the skillet as these women discuss the price for their massage. I dared not turn my head, fearful that I would give them a brown face to match the oiled brown ass which was prominently exposed as I rested on my belly. The ladies leave and I feel the lady start massaging my shoulders. I think back to the advise of my best friend Erica when I told her I didn't want to bathe the elephants: experience it all Nina, live in the moment. So I thought: I can continue to live in my head and totally miss this moment or I can relax, get out of my head and accept the moment for whatever it is. Get outta your head G, get outta your head. So, I relax. Take a deep breath and concentrate on nothing. Everything was getting better until I felt her finger dip a little to low in my gluteus maximus. I constrict my muscles and say: no, too low. So, she smiles and continues rubbing my calves. I take a deep breath and think: okay, try to relax. I hear a voice tell me: Turn. Turn. So, I turn on my back as she begins to rub my arms, then stomach and before I knew it, her hands were on my breast. My eyes bucked as I realized: this woman is really massaging my breasts, grazing the nipple and all! So, I think to myself: WTF is up with this? Then the other part of my mind comes in and says: Gianina, this is a different culture. Maybe, this is how they perform a massage. Then the other voice says: To hell with that, something ain't right. At this point she had moved on to my feet and started beating my feet, up to my legs, then to my stomach. She then started to beat on my lower stomach: ouch! My six pack that existed in high school, had long since left. So, she continues beating right up to my breast. These are breast! Soft, sensitive breast! Ouch! I hear the voice of my inner thoughts again: you're a damn fool if you continue to lie up here and allow this to continue! Then the other voice intercedes with: she's a woman, you're a woman, she's just doing what she's trained to do. Don't come in here with those ethnocentric western views! At this point she has moved her hands down to my calves as she tried to separate my legs which I have pried shut. I kept my legs tight as I refuse to have her hands travel higher than my knees. What if that oil on her hands causes her finger to slip? God forbid I get a vaginal infection out here. God forbid if her fingers do slip and my reflexes cause me to swing and break this nice woman's nose, who's probably just trying to make some money to feed her children. Now, it's not like this woman was molesting me. I was in fact a grown adult who had sought out her services. But my mind traveled back to interviews that I'd conducted with survivors of incest who often stated: if seemed that it had to be right because it was your father (or uncle, cousin, brother, etc.), however, you knew that something just wasn't right. That's how I felt. I'm sure the woman was doing what she had been "trained" or "instructed" to do. However, something just felt wrong. Maybe it's because she didn't seem to have a system, a procedure of sorts, instead I felt that she was just rubbing me, with an occasional squeeze here and there. I felt her hands back on my stomach when the tip of her fingers grazed the top of my pubic hairs. okay, that's it, I'm done. As I decide to protest and stand up for my rights, she indicates that I'm done and can go to the bathing room. She's smiling and asking if I'm "satisfied". I lie. I smile and say yes. I'm feeling a tad bit confused as I use the pail in the bathroom which has been filled with water to wash off all of the oil. The door remains open and I notice the other massager taking sneak glances at me. Now, I don't believe that these women were in any way attracted to me or that they intended to do any ill will. Maybe they'd never seen a Black woman naked before. Maybe they were interested in my tattoo and body piercing. I'm sure that's probably what it was. Before I could wash the remaining suds off my body, the lady smiles and whispers: tip tip as she points to an empty container. Damn, can a sista put her clothes back on before you start asking for a tip?? I tell her that Nikki has my money and that we will pay together. She seems disappointed by this. I quickly dressed and meet Nikki in the waiting area. I felt violated. A little shamed and quite silly at the same time. I had made this decision. I had voluntarily lied there like a greased up piece of meat, rationalizing my feelings and then I had paid my money for those confused emotions. So, lesson learned here: to hell with taking advise from Erica!
I have learned this lesson many of times before (but maybe not if I keep ending up in these peculiar situations): live in the moment but never second guess your instincts. If something seems wrong, it is. Stop with the rationalization. Get out of your head and connect with your body. (At least that's what all of my professors/advisors keep telling me.)
Alright, I'm out.
