Written by Favour Olumese
Every time I pass through the market and see Ella with her ever-present smile, I wonder, “What could be her story?” Ella is a friendly, hospitable food seller, but the left side of her face is disfigured.
When I first met her and she greeted me with her beautiful smile, I knew that she must have been a beauty because the right side of her face was radiant, and I got to confirm my assumption when I saw her old pictures at the community museum. She was the first and so far the only one to have won the “Most Beautiful Lady of Beautiful City Community” for Precious Urban Area, which is a member city of the community. This made me yearn to hear her story, but more, I wanted to know how she cultivated a positive outlook on life, despite what had happened to her face. From my inquiries, I got to know that her face was disfigured by acid during the beauty pageant, but I wanted to know how it all happened.
One fateful day, as I patronised her stall, she gave me a sharp look and said, “I hear you have been asking questions about me. Don’t tell me you have fallen in love with me.” I was dumbstruck by her outburst and was about to stammer a response when she said, “I am just pulling your legs; come later this evening and I will tell you my story.” That brought relief and a smile to my face. Before I left, she added, “I heard that you are a storyteller,” and I affirmed before she continued, “You have to promise me that you would share my story,” and I readily agreed.
I was at her stall later that evening. She offered me a seat while she continued attending to her last-minute customers. She got me a malt and kept calling me her guest while I waited. I once said she was hospitable, and you cannot help but agree. When her customers were all gone, I assisted her in packing her goods into her shop. Before she started her story, she asked if I had seen her picture in the museum, and I affirmed.
And then, she began:
“I am the only daughter of my parents, and they showered me with so much to the point of spoiling me. I had all I could need, but also all I did not need. Aside from these privileges, I was also blessed with beauty and it went to my head. I had all I wanted; I was beautiful and felt powerful, but the power welling in me was a growing pride.
I saw no need to honour anyone except my parents and their rich friends. I was the very definition of a spoiled brat, but my parents were not bothered. They felt I would outgrow it. My friends and my parents’ friends said nothing of my unbecoming so as not to hurt my ego or that of my parents. They were so afraid of losing their relationship with me, so they put up with me. Looking back now, I wonder if they were ever really my friends.
This continued until the Most Beautiful Lady Pageant of Beautiful City Community. Everyone knew I was more likely to win and I won, but where the problem happened was behind the scenes. Each contestant was assigned support staff, but I disrespected the women who were to assist me to the point that they almost lost their jobs.
The women took me to heart and plotted for my fall. They included acid in my bathing water and the effect on the left side of my face tells the remainder of the story. I was fortunate that I wanted to wash my face first. It also affected my hands, but you don’t see the damage it did to my hands because of the gloves I am wearing.
… to be continued next week