‘I was treated like a slave by family – I’m a real-life Cinderella’

Fashion brand owner Sarah Jemirifo, 54, from Colchester, Essex, designs show-stopping gowns, but her early life was a world away from the glamorous career she now enjoys. Her true rags to riches story – involving abandonment, bigamy and child cruelty – is an inspiration to anyone who wants to transform their fortunes. Here, she tells her story…

“Life in my early years was uneventful. Dad was from Nigeria and had met my white English mum – a secretary – at work. He was a successful property developer and we had a comfortable, affluent home life near London.

When I was about five, the decision was made that we were to move back to a town called Ibadan in Dad’s home country. I was sent to a private nursery and we lived in a middle class area in a lovely house. But that’s when life started to fall apart.

Dad was wealthy and successful. Good-looking and with the gift of the gab, he had an eye for the ladies too. One day, Mum caught him in a compromising situation with the maid. My siblings and I didn’t understand what was going on, of course – only that suddenly our mum wasn’t around.

We were never given an explanation, but when I later found a suitcase full of her clothes, photos and documents, I had a sudden realisation that Mum wasn’t coming back. The maid soon moved into our home and, over the years, two more “wives” followed. By then, Dad had a total of 21 kids. He was obsessed with women and they took him for everything they could get.

I wasn’t looked after or included in the family lives of the others. If I wanted to eat, I’d wipe slime and mould from a pile of leftovers kept for weeks in the kitchen.

The other children would throw their food at me and I would try to catch it so I could eat it later. At school, my classmates would make up cruel songs about me and single me out. They saw me as unusual – the mixed-race kids they knew were typically from affluent families and well looked after. While there I was, starving and with no shoes on my feet.

An older girl took pity on me and gave me her hand-me-down uniforms so at least I had something to wear, but back then staying in fashion was the least of my worries. I may have dreamt of becoming a dress designer one day but my mind was mostly taken over by the need to find food.

A fight for survival

I’d spend all my time hanging around neighbours in the hope they’d feed me. At weekends, Dad would force us to hunt for snakes and lizards with him, which we’d bring home to cook. That repulses me now, but when you’re so hungry, you’ll eat what your body needs.

I wasn’t allowed the spare time to make friends and, without anyone to look after me, I knew I had to be so strong, to be my own mum and dad. I was in survival mode.

As money worries continued, we moved to a basic mud house where I’d go into the bushes to use the toilet. I bathed and washed the few clothes I had in the river. I tried to talk to Dad about how unhappy I was and one day he came up with a solution – I was to go and live with other family members in their new home.

Looking back now, I realise they wanted a maid, but I wasn’t even that – I was a slave. I had to wake at 4am to draw water from the well and take it upstairs and then all day I’d clean the house although I was so weak. My bed was just a mat in the hallway, but that seemed like luxury at the end of each exhausting day.

Again, I ate mouldy leftovers as my family settled down to the generous meal I’d cooked for them. My stomach hurt so much – I constantly had food poisoning and would notice worms when I went to the toilet. I was malnourished but never got to see a doctor.

Life became unbearable when the demanded I sell vegetables at the local market. People would judge me and stare at this mixed-race girl, thinking, “Why are you here?” I felt so ashamed, I just couldn’t take it any more. One day when they were at work I took my things and left. I ran back to Dad and told him everything that had happened. Although he apologised, he seemed more concerned about whether I would bring money into the household.

I was starting to get lots of attention from boys – they wanted to take me out, to buy me drinks and give me money, which I would always save. I’d have one date with them and they’d say, “I’m going to book us a hotel room”and I’d agree, but then never turn up. I wanted to stay a virgin.

Put the plan into action

By 18, I had saved up enough to get myself back to London. Dad said he was happy for me but he was recovering from a stroke at that point and had worries of his own. Once settled back in the UK, I studied business and finance, working at McDonald’s to top up my student loan. For the first time I was building a life for myself and I’d become strong and focused having been through so much.

My younger brother wanted to join me and we tried to sort out his passport with the embassy back in Nigeria, who asked lots of questions about the family. One day, they got in contact to say, “We’ve located your mother. She lives in Australia.” I was in shock but I’d always prayed to God she’d be found one day.

A trip to Australia was organised and I was so nervous on the plane before we landed. As I walked out of arrivals at the airport with my siblings, my heart was pounding in my chest and I looked around for the mum I hadn’t seen for 30 years. She wasn’t there. We waited for an hour, then two and then gave up, leaving for the hotel.

I had made sure she had all the times and flight details and she hadn’t bothered to turn up. When Mum did show up hours later, there was no big reunion. She made some excuse about the traffic being bad and I was so angry we didn’t really talk that day. It confirmed in my mind that this meeting was all for our peace of mind, not for her.

Since then we’ve been trying to rebuild our relationship. Mum told me stories of when I was little and how she had given me the nickname “Chilli Pepper”. We began to try to make up for all the lost years but it’s very hard. She lives in France now and I’ve visited, but sadly there is no real relationship there. I won’t dwell on the past but I do ask myself why she didn’t look for help or go to the embassy to explain she needed to leave and take us along. How could she have left her children behind? My youngest sibling was only three months old. I might never get answers.

Today, I’m fulfilling my childhood dream with my own fashion brand, Hydration London. It represents the life I have lived and is an ode to my Nigerian and London heritage. I think of the beautiful colours and patterns that I saw around me in the dark days when I had nothing. My hero piece is the chilli pepper dress, inspired by my mother’s nickname for me, and my goal is to see Katie Price wearing one of my designs.

Times are so hard for so many people right now. I am telling my story to inspire others to never give up. You can overcome terrible circumstances, so keep pushing forward. If you’ve come through trauma, as I have, you just have to keep going and know that your life can get better. I’ve had to cope with so many difficulties, but here I am doing what I love. And if I can do it, anyone can.”