BEAUTY WITH PURPOSE

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.”

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.