The Oldest Profession Moves Out
Once upon a time there was a red light district in a university town. It was quite an old neighborhood with small houses and narrow streets. The neighborhood was next to an open area in a large park where cattle was bought and sold once a week. Many men came from kilometers away to deal in their business and perhaps in a little pleasure if the occasion presented itself. Students visited from the nearby campus and sometimes travellers would stop by on their voyage to the northwest of town. The neighborhood bears a name rooted in history that evolved into a symbolic nomenclature. O Pombal. The Dovecote. The city is Santiago de Compostela.
O Pombal lies in a strategic spot. It's right next to the carballeira of Santa Susana, where the cattle fairs used to be held until the late eighties, early nineties when it was taken elsewhere. It's also near the south campus of the Universidad de Santiago and the old section of town. The old road to Carballo and the Costa da Morte also used to pass by there. (It still does, but now there are faster alternatives.) The "doves" of the Pombal used to have many clients once upon a time. The area grew in women of the night from the early twentieth century to the eighties.
There is a registry book preserved in the Archivo Histórico Universitario de Santiago de Compostela. In it is documented all the prostitutes that exercised their business at the beginning of the twentieth century in Santiago and where they exercised their business. They are listed by name and description, along with their age and previous occupations. Some were single, others were widows who had to find their way in the world. Under "Observaciones" is listed any medical problem and their medical revisions. To legally ply their trade, the women had to have medical approval and be registered in that book. The street with the most addresses of these women is Rúa do Pombal, concretely numbers 1, 9 and 21.
By 1950 the neighborhood was known for its women. So much so that if they hadn't been there, more people would have died in a bus accident that took place at the bottom of the neighborhood. On the 29th of January, 1950, a small bus with capacity for eighteen passengers was carrying twenty-eight people, two of them sitting on the roof, to Carballo. Most were members of a long disappeared soccer team that was going to a game in Carballo. It was an old bus, with a body made mostly of wood. It was also late, so the driver stepped on it. Flying down the cobblestones, the bus went out of control at the beginning of Rúa das Galeras, and hit a tree on the other side of the street. From that tree it bounced back across the street and hit another tree, where it stopped. The two passengers sitting on the roof lost their lives at that moment. But now, the riders inside what was left of the bus faced an inferno. The gas tank ruptured and the bus started to burn.
From a house across the street in the Pombal, about ten women came running out, some with wet blankets. They helped pull out all the passengers from the burning bus. Of all those travelling inside, only one later died from burns. At least fifteen owed their lives to the heroic action of those women. But, being women and prostitutes, they were the lowest of the low, and were never recognized for their bravery. Their names have disappeared with them in the churchyard.
After the 80's and the appearance of the fearsome AIDS, the business hit a downslope which still hasn't ended. I remember driving along a shortcut into the city over twenty years ago that passed through the Pombal. There was a house on a corner where I almost always caught a long red light. The house was old, with green wooden shutters and a door that opened by halves. Generally the lower half was shut with the upper half open. There was always a woman at one of the windows. That house now is shut up, the roof threatening to fall in. Other houses around it have been fixed up. In the boom years of construction the neighborhood was gentrified. Young families moved in, trendy bars opened up and small hotels "con encanto" beckoned to tourist money. Five years ago, in the middle of the crisis, only two of the original bars with women remained. Now, there might be only one. The neighborhood has gone through a radical transformation. My daughter is renting a student apartment in a street just off the area. A primary school is one street over. Other student apartments are rented out, and there's an inn for pilgrims on another street.
But while most of the women have left, at least two still stand guard at their corner. Last night, when I drove our daughter to her apartment for the week, they were at their appointed place. Only because I had seen them before, did I know their profession, because they don't resemble the stereotype of a prostitute standing on a corner. One of them looked like she was dressed to go on an errand. Cardigan, coat, skirt to below the knees, even an apron and laced shoes. The other one was more daring yesterday, probably because of the nice weather. She was wearing a short sleeved, bright blue dress, flats, and stockings up to right below the knees, where the cuffs were squeezing her calves. Both look like they're well over sixty. When they die, the reputation of the neighborhood will recede into history. Into that history which tends to remain only in a few, rare documents, and the collective memory of a town.
O Pombal lies in a strategic spot. It's right next to the carballeira of Santa Susana, where the cattle fairs used to be held until the late eighties, early nineties when it was taken elsewhere. It's also near the south campus of the Universidad de Santiago and the old section of town. The old road to Carballo and the Costa da Morte also used to pass by there. (It still does, but now there are faster alternatives.) The "doves" of the Pombal used to have many clients once upon a time. The area grew in women of the night from the early twentieth century to the eighties.
There is a registry book preserved in the Archivo Histórico Universitario de Santiago de Compostela. In it is documented all the prostitutes that exercised their business at the beginning of the twentieth century in Santiago and where they exercised their business. They are listed by name and description, along with their age and previous occupations. Some were single, others were widows who had to find their way in the world. Under "Observaciones" is listed any medical problem and their medical revisions. To legally ply their trade, the women had to have medical approval and be registered in that book. The street with the most addresses of these women is Rúa do Pombal, concretely numbers 1, 9 and 21.
By 1950 the neighborhood was known for its women. So much so that if they hadn't been there, more people would have died in a bus accident that took place at the bottom of the neighborhood. On the 29th of January, 1950, a small bus with capacity for eighteen passengers was carrying twenty-eight people, two of them sitting on the roof, to Carballo. Most were members of a long disappeared soccer team that was going to a game in Carballo. It was an old bus, with a body made mostly of wood. It was also late, so the driver stepped on it. Flying down the cobblestones, the bus went out of control at the beginning of Rúa das Galeras, and hit a tree on the other side of the street. From that tree it bounced back across the street and hit another tree, where it stopped. The two passengers sitting on the roof lost their lives at that moment. But now, the riders inside what was left of the bus faced an inferno. The gas tank ruptured and the bus started to burn.
From a house across the street in the Pombal, about ten women came running out, some with wet blankets. They helped pull out all the passengers from the burning bus. Of all those travelling inside, only one later died from burns. At least fifteen owed their lives to the heroic action of those women. But, being women and prostitutes, they were the lowest of the low, and were never recognized for their bravery. Their names have disappeared with them in the churchyard.
After the 80's and the appearance of the fearsome AIDS, the business hit a downslope which still hasn't ended. I remember driving along a shortcut into the city over twenty years ago that passed through the Pombal. There was a house on a corner where I almost always caught a long red light. The house was old, with green wooden shutters and a door that opened by halves. Generally the lower half was shut with the upper half open. There was always a woman at one of the windows. That house now is shut up, the roof threatening to fall in. Other houses around it have been fixed up. In the boom years of construction the neighborhood was gentrified. Young families moved in, trendy bars opened up and small hotels "con encanto" beckoned to tourist money. Five years ago, in the middle of the crisis, only two of the original bars with women remained. Now, there might be only one. The neighborhood has gone through a radical transformation. My daughter is renting a student apartment in a street just off the area. A primary school is one street over. Other student apartments are rented out, and there's an inn for pilgrims on another street.
But while most of the women have left, at least two still stand guard at their corner. Last night, when I drove our daughter to her apartment for the week, they were at their appointed place. Only because I had seen them before, did I know their profession, because they don't resemble the stereotype of a prostitute standing on a corner. One of them looked like she was dressed to go on an errand. Cardigan, coat, skirt to below the knees, even an apron and laced shoes. The other one was more daring yesterday, probably because of the nice weather. She was wearing a short sleeved, bright blue dress, flats, and stockings up to right below the knees, where the cuffs were squeezing her calves. Both look like they're well over sixty. When they die, the reputation of the neighborhood will recede into history. Into that history which tends to remain only in a few, rare documents, and the collective memory of a town.
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