Doris Kwaka Photo: Courtesy

DORIS KWAKA was in China living on the edge and building a career in modelling when she became the victim of a brutal attack. She tells ROSE KWAMBOKA how she recovered from the painful ordeal that left her jaw disfigured.

An ecstatic Doris Kwaka walks into the interview room, profusely apologising for being late. “You look radiant,” I say. She shows her appreciation by telling me ‘thank you’ in Italian, Mandarin – the official language of China, English and Swahili before she proceeds to say, “Only beautiful people tell others they are beautiful.”

She is a bubbly one this one, and a philosopher and I get this feeling that we will have fun. As we settle in, she shares her beauty regimen; “I love my body so I take care of it. I take an entire thermos flask or herbal infusions every night before I turn in; Moringa, Neem, Green tea, you name it.

It detoxifies my system as I sleep. I eat lots of greens to the point I had turned vegan. I avoid very oily foods which are popular in China. I am very spiritual, I have a life coach and I do yoga. I go for massages to relax.”

“Are you a supermodel?” was the constant question she got when she landed in Beijing owing to her height. Then one day as she was walking the streets, a Spanish designer noticed her and invited her for the opening of the Mercedes Benz Show, and just like that she had a job.

Since that day in 2010, she has been in the model lineup for the opening of that show. However, contrary to popular belief, she does not get booked for her height, endless legs, or her perfect dental formula. “There are tall models everywhere. Most photographers like working with me for my big eyes,” she says smiling so that the smile reaches her eyes.

THE ATTACK

It was therefore not as strenuous for her to bounce back three years later and own the runway after her dental formula was messed up. The story of the attack, which was covered up as an accident goes like this:

“I had just finished two weeks of a modelling job in the Panda province, followed by another two-day job in Shanghai and was supposed to leave for Macau the following day for yet another job. In preparation for the next day, I opted to unwind at the club that was downstairs in the hotel I was staying.

At around 8pm, I was at the bar sipping my wine when two guys approached me; one of them, who I later came to find out was the owner of the hotel, asks, ‘how much?’

“I am sorry, I am not an escort,” I respond, before courteously adding, “mistaken identity,” and go back to my drink, aware that many black girls in China are into the prostitution business and one would be forgiven to stereotype any other black girl as part of that flock.

At this point with my back turned away from them, I heard them speak to each other in Mandarin. They must have thought I do not understand it because the guy was telling his friend to throw me out of the hotel.

Getting agitated, I thought to myself that even as a prostitute, one must be given room for negotiation, at the very least.

“You just do not throw someone out,” I reason. Feeling the need to stand for the rights of the girl child, I vowed not to leave that hotel without putting up a fight. When his friend triesd jostling me off my stool to no avail, he enlisted the help of three security personnel who manhandled me. My kickboxing skills come into play and I tried fighting off the three men – one of them black – but they eventually took me down.

Moments later, I lay unconscious like a dog a few metres from the club, the security personnel having boxed four of my teeth up my nose and broken one in the process.

On regaining consciousness much later on in the night, I remember crying for help in Kiswahili. I know it was Kiswahili because no one understood a word I was saying and for a while after the attack, I could not remember any Mandarin I had learnt.

None of the passers-by made an effort to take me to hospital, for in China, even a Good Samaritan act may get you involved in things you do not intend to get yourself into. In excruciating pain, I then called a friend who took me to hospital after pocketing the tooth that I had spat on the street.

In the hospital, two of the teeth were extracted and the other two pulled down and glued so they could grow out. The procedure which cost her USD15,000, left her with a paralysed nose.

The nightmare only got worse when she went to record a statement with the police. The CCTV evidence at the club had been deleted, and the fact that I was by myself meant I had no witnesses. The police kept asking what I was doing alone at night considering I am a girl.

It is like it is a crime being a girl, and it was not even that late. For that moment, I felt like an abused child who is being questioned and blamed for being a child. The club owner had bought out the police to keep mum on the attack.

As a result, no investigation was conducted by the police who had been paid off, and it was the last I heard of any follow up. I stood no chance against corruption.”

The only regret she has of that night is picking a fight with the security personnel but the incident has given her the strength and experience to encourage girls that they do not need to be perfect to be beautiful, hence her title as the African Ambassador.

“I could not work, chew or bite for over a month after the attack, and I was forced to stay in Beijing, for that is where my doctor is located, in case something happened,” she recalls of how she needed to be near her doctor in case she got an infection, or her teeth started bleeding or got loose. She learnt how not to show her teeth.

“I would laugh with a hand to my mouth and people thought I was shy.” She later on in December 2014 got a bridge, which would fall from her mouth on many occasions.

“Once, just before she was to hit the runway, the wire on the bridge loosened and it fell. I walked the runway without it,” she recalls of how the other models were in shock to find out that she was toothless. “I picked up my bridge and put it in my bag like nothing had happened.”

On another occasion, the bridge fell into her cocktail and when people tried sympathising, she made a joke out of it. “I hate being given sympathy. I am too blessed to let other people be in charge of my happiness,” she says.

For this reason, she enjoys spending ‘me time’ looking through her past photos. “Looking at my photos allows me see a different side of myself, and the emotions, and the growth through the years.” She also likes looking at herself in the mirror.

“I spend over an hour every morning in front of the mirror and I am so meticulous about how I look,” she admits that especially now that she is a freelance model, first impressions count.

The other thing she is meticulous about is her work ethic. “Word is that models are superficial and have a ‘my way or the high way’ kind of attitude. At a day and age where modelling jobs are few, you cannot afford to have such an attitude, otherwise, the highway will be your preferred alternative,” she points out adding that, “models need to understand that it is not about them. It is all about team work. Without the choreographers, photographers, make-up artists, lighting and designers, the model ceases to be.”

Her clothing line, DHK (Doris Hammond Kwaka), which is situated in Berlin suffered the blow (no pun intended) of her stay in Beijing. “I make bags and fabric design and even model my own pieces. But I could not travel, so I had to put that project on hold.”

GETTING INTO MODELLING

Born and bred in Kenya, she got into modelling by sheer chance. “I was nicknamed ‘model’ by my schoolmates in St. Michael’s, Nakuru.” A friend then insisted she should sign up in a modelling agency to which she obliged though half-heartedly.

“I walked into the agency and the agent said, ‘she is the one’,” she remembers of that day she registered and was immediately booked for her first Telkom internet TV advert, posing as a young girl. She was in Form Three then. She soon after did a fashion cover and spread for  Drum Magazine. “It was amazing that I was the first model to ever be on the cover of Drum,” she delights in her achievement.

After clearing school, she studied Italian for three months and worked as a tour guide. She then travelled to Italy to perfect her Italian and did a few modelling jobs while at it, even winning a pageant. “Then I noticed the Chinese influx into Kenya and thought I should learn Mandarin for it might come in handy,” she says. It was when she flew to China to perfect her Mandarin that she got the modelling job.