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| Cover page of Beauty with purpose book, authored by Moses Moreroa |
At first I thought it was an insipid window
shopping that had ruined her Sunday mood as we were coming from the church. After
admiring an evening dress she wanted for my birthday, I could tell it was not a
shopping spree that has tailored her face with fatigue and frustration. She picked the dress up and rushed to a long
queue, saying she’s done shopping. Normally she would enter every clothing
store to make comparisons and all that ladies do at the mall.
It was 13:15 when
she said it is not the dress that will make her the most beautiful lady at my
birthday party. Before I could pay attention to her sudden and startling
remarks, she abandoned the dress. She then walked out of the store.
Like a lose-canon, I followed her, to my
surprise; she was talking to the two handsome young men whom the society
derided as totally lacking in ideas of making money. I rushed passed the robot
while red, with jealousy straddling my confidence and trust. I wanted to know
the reason of her talking to the disgusting derelicts.
The two men were eating a so seemed delicious
crunchy salad with oats and honey. She asked: “Who bought you this Nature
Valley food, surely they are not from a dustbin?” I knew Sheryl don’t like to
be interrupted while talking. I stood there like a fall guy who is more like an
outright bodyguard.
The guys continued to eat their crunchy
ignoring my dearest lover. Her face turned pale and reddish pink and gave her a
whisy-washy appearance. She wobbled her head, and a wisp of hair escaped from
under the straw hat – which is against the law which says a woman should cover
her hair, all of it, at all the times.
“I wish I could go back to modeling again. But
since you condemned and frowned on Kim Kardashian’s revealing photo shoot, let
me just give up,” she said, in a rough but forgiving voice, walking towards the
car.
I knew something was wrong, whether the dress,
my birthday, the street kids, my unpalatable remarks towards Kim, the high
temperature or maybe she was pregnant. Many folks describe coloured people as egotistical
and rude. For a minute I felt it, that is what made me not to ask what was
wrong. We drove home.
“Moses, tell me that you are a smooth
operator.” “What do you mean by a smooth operator,” I asked her as her question
was not only weird but ambiguous and irrelevant. She replied: “Are you charming
all the ladies like you are doing to me?” “Hehehe,” I giggled, pretending to
understand the gist of the topic. She then said, “You criticize without
understanding. You only seek to meet the desires of your heart,” she supposed
with a calm but angry voice. Her sensational lower lip that she bit with the
upper teeth enticed me into kissing her, but she refused, instructing me to
drive even faster to catch a 2pm show on TV. As she was in her first year of
actuarial sciences at the University of Cape Town, I knew the show was about
something to do with her studies. I drove faster a she was rubbing her outer
hand against my left thigh with a smile warming on her face. “Baby you are
confusing me,” I said in a complaining voice.
“Baby your level of support was tremendous
before we got engaged, but now you have put God first before me. I know you
don’t like arguing about God but sometimes I feel like leaving you. You know my
parents rejected me for dating you but I did not care. I decided to love you
with a hope that you will protect me. I was wrong. You wanted to make me your
doll. A toy you can control and dictate. But anyway its not like I have any
choice.”
She sobbed and wept. “I remember the day you
took me to the Mall of the North to watch the Invictus movie. We broke for dinner at Nando’s at the Savannah
Mall, after we went to Masana Lodge and you scrapped my back telling me how
much you love me. You promised me all the good things, some were impossible but
I believed you. After the shower you kissed me all over the body, asking me to
trust you…” She started to stammer, and looked out of the window. I took a deep
breath as I went out of the car to open the gate.
My everything was shaking. My lips started
trembling not knowing what to say. Thoughts dribbled my mind. I held the tears
that wanted to join the Monare Rivers, remembering the idiom that says
a man is like a sheep. I knew I was
wading into waters. I knew she was telling me something although she started
with the tales. I could see through her red eyes that the fire would spill at
any time.
I went back to the car and drove into the yard.
Before climbing down the new Amarok that I bought after selling the GTi 6, she
looked at me and breathed in and out quickly. I thought it was a heart attack
when I jumped from the driver’s seat to hold her but she pushed me away. “I’m
fine, leave me alone. It does not help to ride in big cars and have everything
that you want me to have. There is just one thing that I want myself. That is
what I ask for, to be me.” “During that night after the movies, you asked to
break my virginity, I gave it to you. I was afraid and young, but I compromised
my fears and insecurities. Yes, you spending a lot of money for my education at
UCT, but that again is your choice,” she wiped her tears and threw her face
onto the bed.
With wary and wonder, I left the room. I went
to the sitting room to watch Wrestling Survivor Series. Thirty minutes later,
she walked in and starred at me while standing at the door. I could see that
her anger was now above the ocean.
She joined me on the sofa, took the remote and
changed the channel from E.tv to SABC 3. “Have you ever watched beauty
pageants,” she asked courteously.
“Baby let’s not fight again please, Kim is
playing at the next room,” I said in a low voice showing surrender to a fight I
never I thought I fought.
“Maybe we should change her name to something;
it could be a name from your family. Again what you think is proper for you since
Kim is disgusting, right?”
I did not know why she was so into my comments
about Kardashian being immoral and nudist. “Have you ever watched beauty
pageants…what don’t you understand about this question?”
I could not answer knowing that she asked if I
charm ladies on Facebook like I do to her. I suspected that she is of an
opinion that I may be cheating with a modeler since I sometimes help them with
pictures at work. Immediately when a show on SABC 3 came back from commercials,
I saw people modelling. I then realised she wanted us to watch it. I silently
insulted myself for thinking the worst of her.
“I don’t recall watching beauty pageants with
a passion; in most instances I was just doing my journalism work.”
“Alright! I guess you know the importance of
parading. It is not just about beauty but a purpose,” she said whilst leaning
on my shoulder and holding me tight. “This is the final episode of Miss World
2014. I know you don’t love Wrestling. Let’s watch this.” I agreed albeit I
didn’t like pageants as well.
As we were watching, a commentator said: “Believe
you me, I have noticed that neither their crying nor enthusiasm will make any
of these contenders a winner today, but the beauty with a purpose that stimulated
and herded the sense of charity in these models is what is important.”
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| Moses Moreroa, Speaker, Author and Communicator. |
After the commentator had spoken, Sheryl then
looked into my eyes and said: “Many would label and delimit beauty pageants as being
sexism. But truth is that we are showing wonderful creatures from the Potter’s
hand. We model because of the drive to help the world accept the challenge it
is faced with. Because of your church, you deny me to continue with modeling.
You saw me from Nelson Mandela Comprehensive High, I was a winner Moses. I was
the most beautiful girl on the day. You loved my curves, my boutique skin, my
nails, my hair and all that you saw. You knew I was one of God’s creatures. You
knew my sport was modelling.”
“Baby…”
Raising her pointing finger, she said: “Don’t
baby me. If God did not want us to reveal our bodies, then why has He made us
this way? Hmmmmm….” I don’t see anything wrong in Kim’s photo shoot.” She kept
quiet as the top five finalists took it to the podium to sing a song.
South Africa included, the finalists collaborated
to sing the ‘You Raise Me Up’ song
which reminded me of my time as a mentor at the University of Limpopo. As I was
busy listening to my inner self, I heard something very peculiar, creepy and
indefinable, saying switch off the television. But I could not worsen things.
The song hurt me as she sang along. I started to think of everything that
happened since we went to the mall.
“The
reason you are this angry is because you want to continue modelling. But I
never said no,” I responded with a blameless face.
“You posed me with so many Bible laws that
clearly showed that you hated the way I dress and look. I changed the wardrobe
and became your housewife, you even loved me more. Simply because I am was a
humbled young girl before your priests and everyone.” She said but this time
calm and collected.
“I decided not to buy that long dress because
on your birthday I wanted to wear a skinny jean with heels and stomach out top.
I could not even ask you to do my hair knowing that your church doesn’t allow
women to leave their hair in public.”
My project at high school was about helping
the street kids to get out and establish themselves. When I saw them at the
mall, it reminded me that I am failing to do what I wanted, and what God would
have appreciated. Although you think God favours men’s thoughts over the
females’.”
“I want to continue with modelling!” She
screamed throwing things around the living room. Held in London at an eminent
world beauty pageant, the 22-year-old medical student at the University of the
Free State Roslyn Straws beat 120 entrants to be crowned Miss World 2014.
Now I know what she wanted - beauty with
purpose.
