I AM NOT YVONNE NELSON

m the father of my two siblings, and after having me with Mr. Nelson, she was alone for a long time before she gave marriage another shot. This time, it was with one Mr. Benky, who a

k home 2 million [today’s 200] cedis.” It is true that I won two individual awards on the night and was tipped to be crowned Miss Ghana. Before the final announcement, however, I knew my fate. I knew I would not wear the crown. The miracle I hoped would happen did not. So, I was not surprised I missed out. I had fumbled when it was my turn to answer the question that was asked the final five contestants from whom the first three winners would be picked. I remember, backstage, Shirley Frimpong Manso came to hold me tenderly and asked, “Yvonne, why?” She and I didn’t have a close relationship, but I imagined she was rooting for me to win. That slip obviously took me out of the frontrunners at that point of the race. It was the wish of many that I would emerge with the crown, but it did not happen. I didn’t make the headlines. Lamisi Mbillah of the University of Ghana made headlines as Miss Ghana 2005. The first runner-up was also a University of Ghana student, Ursula Naa Dei Neequaye, while Maame Afua Anne Darko of the University of Cape Coast was adjudged the second runner-up. I entered the competition because I wanted to win. To lose the crown, especially in the manner in which it happened, was painful. Seeing that the first three winners were all university students and I was a secondary school leaver who had not qualified to enter the university increased the intensity of my desire to excel academically, even if my version of excellence, in my wildest imagination, was just the opportunity to gain admission into a university. Looking back, however, I do not regret not winning the beauty pageant. The odds that I would not have been here if I had won that contest are very high. I would have spent eternity basking in the glory and opportunities that came with the crown. My life would have been defined by the rules governing the competition. I don’t know whether I would have survived the trappings of the fame that came with being Miss Ghana. I know I would have ceased to be an ordinary girl. The restricting power of living according to other people’s expectations of Miss Ghana may have prevented me from being who I wanted to be. It could have stopped me from doing what I wanted to do. The Miss Ghana pageant, however, gave me some exposure that would later serve as a launchpad to something greater. At the time I lost the crown, I had no bragging rights to anything I was proud of. The benefit I had derived from my education until that stage of my life was entertainment. The singing, dancing and mounting of the stage at St. Martin de Porres and Aggrey Memorial came in handy during the Miss Ghana contest. I was adjudged the most talented contestant because I had spent much of my life singing and dancing. I wrote the rap songs I performed in that competition. My fumbling at the intellectual test was what cost me a crown, and I vowed not to let anything come between me and my education should I pass the Nov-Dec. While I was pushing and fighting for my own way, Providence seemed to have the final say. A golden opportunity, out of nowhere, jolted me pleasantly. Princess Tyra It is said that the big game often appears when the hunter has given up the hunt for the day. I cannot say I had completely given up on life’s hunting, but it was a thought that creeped in and out of my mind as I confronted my world. My life at that moment was dogged by what I thought were crushing failures and disappointments. Crashing out of Miss Ghana when the crown was in sight and well within my reach was the defeating icing on my cake of struggle and self-doubt. If I couldn’t do well in school, and my only attempt at a competition in the entertainment industry did not work, where else could I make it? I would later learn that it was only a matter of time. When that time was ripe, I didn’t have to struggle or fight for the tight window of opportunity that allowed the glowing rays of hope into my life once again. It happened as though I was cast in a movie whose perfect script was written and directed by Providence, and I was merely a favoured cast. In reality, that’s how I entered the movie industry—effortlessly. It was in 2006, and I was with Karen Okata, the bearer of my luck charm. Even when she didn’t have to play an active role, Karen was always connected in some way to the monumental epochs of my life. It so happened that she was with me when I bumped into what would turn out to be the golden door that opened priceless opportunities for me. We had gone to Afrikiko, a middle-class eatery and recreational centre in Accra, to buy fried rice. A friend I had met in my Miss Ghana days and I were in the car while Karen went into the restaurant to get us the food, which we intended to take away. When Karen kept too long, my hunger pangs nudged me to follow up to see what was holding her up. It was on my way to the restaurant that I bumped into Abdul Salam Mumuni, a renowned movie producer in Ghana. When he mentioned his name, I instantly recognised him, for he was a household name in the entertainment industry and I had watched a number of movies from his Venus Productions. I am not sure whether he also made me out, but, having taken part in Miss Ghana and come close to winning, he probably knew who I was. “Are you coming for the audition?” he asked me after the introduction. I had no idea he was auditioning for his next movie, and I told him just that. I was there for food and nothing was going to distract me. Even when he invited me to join in the audition, I didn’t have any difficulty choosing food over a potential movie role that day. That was how the brief encounter endedwithout any interest or commitment from my side. In the entertainment industry, music was my first love. I had acted in school, but at the time I met Abdul Salam, as he’s popularly known, I wasn’t excited about the prospects of being on the screen, especially when my first two attempts had ended in smoke. After Miss Ghana, I had been cast in a television series titled Babe It was a series produced by actress and producer Luckie Lawson, and the entire episode was shot in a barber’s shop. It never made it onto television. Before Babe Ivan Quashigah, the producer of Things We Do for featured me in another television series titled Fortune In that series, I played a detective. I was going to crime scenes, examining dead bodies and all that. I don’t remember much about the storyline now. At the time I met Abdul Salam, that series too had not yet made it to any screen, so jumping at an impromptu invitation to audition for a movie role was not a particularly exciting prospect. It was part of the reason I didn’t regret choosing food over an audition, but I did leave my contact details. That destiny-shaping encounter did not, however, end with my rejection of the invitation to audition. Abdul Salam called later and offered me a role in the movie. I had just started my first year at Central University College (CUC). I had managed to pass my Accounting and Costing after two attempts and applied to CUC to study Human Resource Management. If you asked me why I chose that programme of study, I would struggle for a reason. What I studied at the time was inconsequential to me. What mattered was that I was in the university. I had bought the form and applied quietly. My mother and siblings only got to know about my plans when I was offered admission. It was my moment of pride and the pleasant surprise was acknowledged by my family. Having suffered rejection and humiliation from some of my friends because of my inability to go to the