The baby-face girls crowded the Katutura Country Hotel. The only open space was between the nylon chairs. Even a housefly would not risk entering the airtight dome for free. 

The car guards pocketed the glittery coins from the wayward drivers craving to park bumper to bumper. 

“Only parallel parking!” yapped a ticket-dishing officer, ripping the last ticket from the corrupt-free notepad. From now onwards, the blue uniform cop dished hefty fines and sketched the culprits’ faces in the air. 

Inside the sweat-smelling hall, jutted-rib teenage girls swung their hips side to side. 

The first participant popped out like an ant, but her pink hair rollers disqualified her. 

The second contestant showed up; her teeth well tucked in her upper lip for a million-dollar smile. 

Then the third girl came out, but her twitchy nose was not pencil thin. This time, a judge snatched a ruler and measured her shapeless nose. Like a warthog, the girl galloped behind the beetroot-coloured curtains. 

Then Tura girl No. 90 came out but her toothpick legs were swallowed by the rose-coloured high heels. Soon she limped away, clearly sobbing. 

Thereafter, No. 21 snapped her neck battling to flash her green hair ribbons. The judge scolded her to scavenge rainbow-coloured hair ribbons. 

No. 26 was next, but she deflected the flashing manmade lightning from the cameras. 

No. 12 came out with her ‘Come to Jesus’ sandals, but the tune playing at the corrugated sheet temple gospeled her out of the event. 

This time, it was No. 85, but the cinematographers whined that her bald, head mirrored the nonstop flashes. 

“Let’s hand-pick a winner before the night curfew kicks in!” said the chief judge. It was past the curfew time, and the riot police handcuffed and booted everyone loafing around the hotel. Then and there, die-hard pensioners paid the guilt fine on the spot. 

The chief judge from the ‘Ou Lokasie’ stood up. “Which country in Africa has no capital city?” she asked. 

Instantaneously, the girls shoved and pinched each other behind the maroon curtains. “There are no counties in Africa,” said No. 85, stammering. 

The animated fans banged the tables and whistled “all the desert countries in Africa.” 

In the end, No. 85 was crowned the winner, but everyone mumbled that the golden crown was too big for her bald head.  - This is historical fiction.