Welcome to the very first Monday in the month of December. I can smell my Christmas rice already! *dancing* Hope you’re not too sad the weekend is over. Here’s a little something that I hope will sweeten this dusty and dreary Monday a bit. Here goes:
So that morning I stood at the bus stop as usual, waiting for my bus. It was about to rain and the wind was howling fiercely. I wasn’t up to rushing for buses that morning so I just stood there waiting for the crowd to dwindle enough for me to make my choice of buses without hassle. It would probably rain on me, but frankly, I didn’t care. I just didn’t wake up on the right side of the bed that morning. Even if it rained, what did i have to lose? My hair was out in its normal afro state and I was wearing a pair of rubber sandals(you would never know, hehe). Worst case scenario, I would get drenched, right? So I stood there, oblivious, with Lucky Dube blasting away on my earphones.
As me and my fellow waitees stood waiting for the next bus, the wind suddenly picked up and blew with such force that I actually got a little worried. There was a woman beside me with a little child. I had some pity for them. Now the wind blew so hard that I thought I was going to fall. “Chei! I wouldn’t feel so light if only I’d had some breakfast”, I thought. The wind blew up dust accompanied by littered sachets of pure water and tiny empty sachets of dry gin aka ogogoro, and all whatnot: the debris of everyday street life in Lagos. I looked to my left and saw a pretty lady, well dressed, and wearing such a long, curly, expensive looking weave that I unconsciously began guessing how many Indian or Peruvian or Cambodian(I hope I got that right) women surrendered their hair to make that weave possible. I thought it weird that she was so still and composed, for someone standing in a strong wind. “Whatever…maybe she’s a model”, I thought, about looking away.
I didn’t even get the chance to register another thought when suddenly, the lady before me became hairless!!!
It was like magic! One minute she had long flowing curly hair, the next minute she looked, well, strange! I couldn’t have been more surprised if her clothes had suddenly been blown off her body and she was absolutely naked. Apparently her wig had come off because of the wind. Gosh! I was too surprised for words. My ever present reflexes kicked in, and as Usain Bolt’s twin wey I be, I took off in typical fashion, running after the offending weave and catching it just before a keke napep got to it. Walking back truimphantly with my trophy in hand, I saw the faces of all the people at the bus stop, and it was a riot of laughter. Some did their best to cover it, while others laughed with unabashed amusement. The lady in question looked like she was about to cry. She wore high heels and so there was no hiding for her.
As I came closer I noticed why she looked entirely too weird. Her whole front hairline was gone. Except for some hair that resembled grass struggling to grow in the harmattan, her edges were what Lagosians would call Iya Iyabo edges. She had quite abundant hair towards the middle and the back, but just above her forehead area was a desert. It had a devastating effect on her appearance and I felt so bad for wanting to laugh too. Handing her the weave I studied her, not knowing what to say. When she saw the confused expression on my face, for a moment she simply held on to the weave and looked at me. Then we both burst out laughing. I have no idea why we were both laughing, I just know it felt good at the moment. Haha. We laughed, even as she struggled to wear the wig properly, and all the way into the bus that finally decided to come. On the bus she noticed my great halo of hair and confided in me that it was the quest for very neat hairstyles(braids) and the use of weave-on glue(i.e bond) that cost her most of the hair on her front hairline. Its amazing how most hair mishaps suddenly earn you unexpected friends. I won’t go into details as to all the advice I gave her on hair care, but I bet she won’t be forgetting that incident anytime soon.
I still laugh every time I think of it. The wind was surely on a mission that day.
And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair… Kahlil Gibran
PS.: Never wear a wig out on a windy day. If you must wear one, make bobby pins your best friend. If the wind gets too much, don’t be ashamed to hold your head, lest your wig fall off. I repeat, HOLD YOUR HEAD. There’s no shame in it. Don’t say Chibugo did not tell you. Hehe.
**Best advice: take good care of your real hair underneath, I mean, don’t trade the health of your hair for the beauty of a 1 month hairstyle. Care for it the way you care for your skin, desist from overly tight hairstyles that pull out your hair, and don’t neglect its health, so that you won’t die of shame IF the wig decides to dance with the wind! Have a flavorful week mi amigos!:D
90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉