SAMIRA
How often do you smile?
Do you smile so wide that you feel your cheeks almost touching your ears?
How often do you laugh? How does it sound? Does it sound really loud and croaky that your siblings nickname you "Sammy the frog"?
Have you ever laughed so hard that tears would stream down your face but you wouldn't so much as give a darn about wiping it off, all that mattered to you was the feeling of exhilaration?
All these are ways you'd describe me. Ever since I could remember, I was always the ever-smiling, never sad person. My mum said I rarely cried even as a child; you'd always catch me wearing a silly grin on my face. Many times I had a reason to smile and laugh and other times, I just chose to do so because I believed happiness was a choice. I always pictured life as a daily challenge and the way to overcome it was make the most of it and leave the rest to God. That's why I never had to overthink about anything.
I lived my life one day at a time.
In high school, I was ridiculed as an unserious person because no matter how badly I was bullied, I always ended up smiling and giving that you-can't-bring-me-down vibe. My bullies as well as close friends knew nothing could break me. My teachers often used me as an example in public lectures about true happiness. I even went as far as being awarded the happiest student of the year on the day of graduation. It was at the after-party I was told there had never been anyone else who won that award, in fact, it was a unanimous decision by the staff to give me that so as to encourage the rest of the students. Hearing about that filled my heart with more joy as I believed I could be a role model to my peers.
When I stated 'happiness is a choice', I genuinely meant it. My family and I suffered a whole lot. My father was a local cobbler while my mother, was a dry cleaner in Cameroon. After the birth of my immediate younger brother, we moved to France, hoping life would be better for us there. Well, I could say we had a decent life in France but were still subjected to racism as a family with very dark skin. Some of our fellow black friends refused to associate with us because they felt we were too black. I was treated cruelly at school and spent days staring at myself in the mirror, wondering why my skin was this black. While in France, my father got a job as a taxi driver while mother became a saleswoman at a small bakery. Many nights when dad didn't make any income, we had nothing to eat before going to bed. Soon, my mother began to steal some bread and milk from the bakery where she worked to feed us all. Till date, I will always be grateful that she was never caught.
Despite it all, my parents, during bedtime, would tell us everything we went through in life was just a phase and as time progressed, everything would work out fine for us. They'd make reference to Abraham and Sarah, Hannah, Ruth and Naomi, Jabez and even Jesus, to teach us that our situation would get better. Therefore, I took their advice to heart and always counted my blessings rather than mourn my losses. That was my daily mantra! Fortunately, things took a turn for the better after I graduated. I was at the grocery store where I worked as a salesgirl when this lady introduced herself as a fashion designer and gushed over how much she loved my skin. She handed me her complimentary card and explained that she would like it if I agreed to model her clothes at some fashion gigs in summer. When I got home that night, I narrated everything to my family who urged me to seize the opportunity of which I did. That began my journey into modeling.
For the rest of that summer, I modeled for Madame Eloise, the fashion designer, and got linked up with other designers. I had the time of my life plus I was able to settle some bills at home. As the first child, I figured it was time I joined hands with my parents to provide for the family. I never wanted my siblings to ever go to bed hungry anymore. Furthermore, I attended the Université de Bordeaux to study music. Imagine my siblings hearing me sing and play the piano and wondering why they ever called me 'Sammy the frog' in the first place. They began to call me 'Sammy the Angel' but saved the frog part for when we had a dispute. I modeled and taught music lessons for eleven years until I decided to find greener pastures in Canada.
With France being one of the top fashion houses of the world, I never understood why I didn't make it as a model. Hoping that perhaps that wasn't the right setting for me as I believed location matters in one's success story, I decided to try North America and Canada was the first option since it had a large population of French speaking citizens. I settled for a two year visa just to try my luck. To my uttermost astonishment, I signed a six month modeling contract with Estelle Mystique, a renowned French modeling agency and was paid a large sum of money. With that money, I sent half to my parents for home maintenance and used the other half to get settled in an apartment. Not long after, I signed another contract worth more than the first. However, after that, I didn't get any again. Fortunately, since I could play a vast set of musical instruments, I began to teach musical lessons at home for kids interested in learning. With the money I got from this, I took care of myself.
Now, the real problem was getting substantial amounts to send to my parents and working on renewing my working permit to stay in Canada. I refused to leave as a result of the blessings I had gotten in such short notice when I got here. Things got bad that I had no money or job left and the police began to question me when I was found in public places. I began to stay undercover and only went outside in the evening or night time. Sometimes I played at the train station and other public places and often times the money I acquired lasted enough to get a decent meal and still pay for my apartment.
The last straw that broke the camel's back was the last time at the train station, I had almost gotten arrested and no doubt deported but to God be the glory, escaped narrowly. One strange incident that day was the weird man who kept staring at me as I played and mumbling as though he was singing the lyrics to my song but I could bet a hundred Canadian dollars that he didn't know the exact words to my song. It was a Cameroonian song my mother sang to us often. Her great grandmother wrote the song and passed it down to her descendants. No one apart from us knew its lyrics, I tell you. I felt homesick while singing that day.
A few days later, I found a vacancy post somewhere on the street. It was an Ice Cream shop looking to hire a salesgirl. I called the number displayed and got the job immediately. The manager didn't even bother to find out so much about my identity. To be frank, he sounded too much like a junkie to notice anything. Rumour had it that he was once a stripper. Well, I sure didn't judge him because we were all looking for ways to survive in life. What I thought was an Ice cream shop turned out to be an Ice cream selling shuttle bus which was parked by the side of the road all day selling ice cream. I had a fellow colleague, Rose, who already had been working four months prior. The shuttle bus came with some sets of tables and chairs which were placed outside to convey those who wanted to sit and eat their ice cream. I was surprised to see it had a pretty fair line of customers everyday, I guess a lot of people fancied ice cream.
So you see, in all, I wasn't living the life I dreamed of but I wasn't complaining either. Rather, I chose to smile and serve my customers, get paid for my hard-work and hopefully find a better means to earn a living soon but remaining to stay happy through it all because happiness was a choice after all!