ELLE.COM/UK April 2020 115“A MODEL AGENT MADE ME AN
offer: if she could fly me out
OF AUSTR ALIA W ITHIN T WO WEEKS,
she would sign me. If not,
I COULD GE T ON WITH MY LIFE ”‘ HI, WELCOME to Mc D o n ald ’s.
T
The woman stood in front of me. And stared. She
was well put together – with manicured hands, long
groomed hair – not a typical customer in this quiet
branch of the Golden Arches in Sydney’s western
suburbs. I stared back at her. ‘Oh my god, you’re
beautiful,’ she said. I looked down, embarrassed, then
she repeated, ‘You’re beautiful,’ as though in a trance.
I was tired, I’d been working for hours and was
about to leave for my shift at the KFC down the road.
I had multiple jobs to pay for college. A strong
work ethic was something my grandparents, who’d
emigrated to Australia from southern Sudan five years
previously, instilled in me. Since I’d begun working
aged 14, I’d been approached several times by people
claiming they could make me a star – mainly alleged
Disney agents and model scouts.
I told the woman that my shift was about to end;
that she was the last person I would
serve. She didn’t seem flustered by
my abruptness, but instead carefully
placed a business card on the counter.
Sliding it towards me she said, ‘Here’s
my friend’s card. You’re going to be
a superstar. You’ll thank me one day.’wo weeks later, I was on a
plane to Paris to walk for one
of the most exclusive fashion
houses: Vetements. That evening, after
my work shifts, I’d given the card to
my mother. Flattered as I had been by
all the attention beore, it had never
been the right time – I was set on finishing school and going to university to study law, join the
debating team and maybe get my heart broken along the way. But things were different this time.
I had just turned 18 and was in my second year of university. I was in control of my own schedule.
My mother was the one who pushed me into following up the offer of the woman in McDonald’s. She
was tired of having a superstar daughter who didn’t want to be a superstar. It turned out the friend
of the woman who’d come into McDonald’s was a model agent. After I met her, she immediately
made me an offer: if she could fly me out of Australia within two weeks, then she would sign me
to her agency. If she couldn’t, then I could get on with my regular life.
It was surreal to be leaving home on my own – up until that point I’d never even bothered to
get my Australian passport. I’m the eldest of 12 children, so it felt like I was abandoning my siblings,
some of whom were like my own children. My ticket was only one way, so no one – including me- knew whether I’d be coming back. I arrived at Paris Charles de Gaulle airport in the freezing cold
one February morning and looked around in total disbelief as crowds of people swirled around
me. The last time I’d seen this many people in one place was in the refugee camp of Kakuma.
MY N A ME I S AW E N G.
HOW CAN I help you?’