The Untold Story of Zaida Sesay, Teen Miss Africa 2026

‘For a moment, I could hardly move.I stood beneath the bright stage lights, surrounded by hundreds of people, with my heart racing and my emotions threatening to overwhelm me. The names of the second runner-up and first runner-up had already been announced. Now there was only one name left.Mine’. When I heard it, everything seemed to slow down. The crown was placed on my head, but my mind travelled back to the beginning of the journey. To the shy girl who never imagined herself standing on a stage like this. To the girl who was afraid of being seen. To the girl who once read a comment that asked: “How can she represent Sierra Leone when she cannot even walk?”Funny how life works. The girl they questioned was now standing before them as Teen Miss Africa 2026. But the crown did not begin that night. It began long before I ever stepped onto that stage. 

Before the crown
If someone had told me a few years ago that I would one day become a pageant queen, I probably would have smiled and thought they had the wrong person. I have always been naturally shy, just like my mother. That does not mean I do not enjoy talking to people or making friends. I simply never considered myself someone who wanted to be the centre of attention. Standing in front of a crowd intimidated me. Being watched made me uncomfortable. And yet, ironically, the very thing I was most afraid of was the thing I would eventually have to confront if I wanted to grow. Everything changed when I learned about the Teen Miss Africa Pageant. My family believed in me long before I knew how to believe in myself. They encouraged me to register and reminded me that sometimes opportunities reveal parts of us we never knew existed.So, I decided to try. At that point, I did not know how to walk like a pageant queen. I had no pageant experience and very little understanding of what the journey would demand from me. I simply had the willingness to begin. And sometimes, that is all you need. 

The Comment That Could Have Stopped Me

The first time my pageant video was shared online, I was excited. Then came the comments.Some were encouraging. Others were harsh. One comment stood out: “How can she represent Sierra Leone when she cannot even walk?” I read it more than once. It hurt.For a moment, I wondered if the person was right. Maybe I was not ready. Maybe I did not belong on that stage. Maybe I had stepped into a world where everyone else knew what they were doing except me. But after the disappointment came a decision. If my walk was not good enough, I would work on it. If my confidence was lacking, I would build it. If I did not know something, I would learn. I could either allow the comment to become a definition of me or use it as motivation to become better. I chose the second. Instead of allowing those words to define me, I allowed them to refine me. 

Learning to Walk into My confidence

My early training sessions were not glamorous. There were moments when I watched other girls walk with confidence and quietly wondered whether I would ever be able to do the same.I practiced. I made mistakes. I started again. And then I practiced some more.I worked on my runway walk, learned how to pose, improved my public speaking, participated in interviews and gradually became more comfortable being in front of people. There were moments when I got frustrated. There were moments when things did not come naturally. But I began to understand something important: confidence is not something you simply wake up with. Sometimes, confidence is built one uncomfortable experience at a time.Every rehearsal pushed me beyond my comfort zone. Every mistake taught me something. Every challenge forced me to confront a part of myself I had previously avoided.The girl who once feared being watched was slowly learning how to walk into a room without being afraid of being seen. And somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to become the perfect pageant contestant and started becoming a more confident version of myself. 

The Sisterhood Nobody Warned Me About

Before entering the competition, I had imagined pageantry differently. I expected competition. I expected rivalry. Perhaps even jealousy. Instead, I found sisterhood. The contestants became friends, companions and, in many ways, sisters. We shared meals, laughed together, encouraged one another and created memories that I know I will carry with me for years. There were moments when one of us needed encouragement, and the others were there. We celebrated one another's strengths and reminded each other that standing on the same stage did not make any of us less worthy. Of course, every contestant wanted to win. I wanted to win too. But wanting the crown never stopped me from celebrating the other girls. I learned that competition does not have to mean tearing someone else down. You can desire the prize and still clap when someone else succeeds. You can be ambitious and remain kind. And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful lessons pageantry gave me. 

Then Came the Night

As the final night approached, everything I had experienced seemed to lead to that one moment. The lights. The stage. The audience. The anticipation. The girls beside me. The rehearsals. The doubts. The countless times I had practiced. Then the names began to be announced.Second runner-up. First runner-up. I remember my heart racing. I whispered a silent prayer. Then came the announcement. “Teen Miss Africa 2026…”There was a pause. “Zaida Sesay.”
For a few seconds, I could not believe what I was hearing. The shy girl who once questioned whether she belonged was now standing on the same stage wearing the crown. I was overwhelmed. But beneath the excitement was something deeper. I knew I had not simply won a competition. I had conquered a version of myself that once believed she could not. And suddenly, that comment came back to me. How can she represent Sierra Leone when she cannot even walk? I smiled to myself. Because sometimes people only see your beginning. They do not see the hours you spend improving. They do not see the tears. They do not see the prayers. They do not see the discipline. They do not see the person you are becoming. 

A Crown That Began at Home.
Winning became even more meaningful because of my mother. I realized that I was following in her footsteps. Just like her, I had become a pageant winner. Looking back, I understand that inspiration often begins at home. My family saw something in me before I could see it in myself. They encouraged me to take a chance on something that was completely outside my comfort zone.And that has made me think deeply about how we raise children. What if my family had looked at my shyness and simply decided that I was a shy child? What if they had never encouraged me to register? What if they had only focused on my academic abilities and never given me the opportunity to explore something different? I may never have discovered this version of myself.That is why I believe children need more than academic excellence. They need opportunities. They need encouragement. They need parents, guardians and mentors who are willing to say, “Try it. You may surprise yourself.” Sometimes a child needs someone else to believe in them before they learn how to believe in themselves. 

More Than a Crown

Today, I am beginning to see my dream of becoming an entrepreneur take shape.Pageantry has given me much more than a title. It has exposed me to leadership, communication, networking, discipline, confidence and service. Those lessons will remain with me long after the crown is passed on to another girl. I have also begun to understand the kind of person I want to become. I do not simply want certificates. I want to solve problems. I want to create opportunities. I want to build something meaningful. I want to become the kind of leader who understands that success is not only about what you achieve for yourself, but also about what you make possible for others. Perhaps that is what the crown represents to me now. Not perfection.  

The Girl Behind the Crown

Looking back, I realize the crown was never the greatest reward. The greatest reward was the girl I became while chasing it. Confidence replaced fear. Growth replaced doubt. Purpose replaced insecurity. So, to every young person reading this, I want you to remember something.Do not allow your current limitations to become a permanent description of who you are.You may not be good at something today. You may be nervous. You may be inexperienced. Someone may even laugh at you.Let them. Your beginning does not have to look like your destination. I know that now. Because once upon a time, someone looked at my beginning and questioned whether I could represent Sierra Leone.

Today, I wear the crown. And perhaps that is the greatest lesson my journey has taught me:You do not have to know how to walk like a queen before you begin.Sometimes, you take the first step, and the journey teaches you how to become one.