I made my hair. Braids.
I pray they last. You see my hair is stubborn and since I have decided to not
"disvirgin" it (apply relaxer to it) I will suffer the consequences that come with
having natural hair. It is usually fine on its own.
I took sometime before
going to the hairdressers. You see in the middle of the night something
biological happened and I was in a lot of pain, so much pain that I actually
cried. They were purely abdominal pains. The next morning while I was in the
kitchen slicing some fruit (we have those every morning) my father came and
prayed for me. Some pretty deep prayers. He had most likely heard me crying at
night while he had his night prayers and I am sure he was worried that I had
been battling some night terrors. I can’t blame him seeing as I am a perfect
child and also a little bit of a daddy’s girl. Don’t be jealous.
So I nursed my pain and trudged to the salon to begin a frightening journey. I am terrified of making my hair. Firstly, it is painful and discomforting for the first three or so days and then the pain slowly begins to abate and I honestly hate all forms of discomfort. Secondly, I just don’t like making my hair because it always takes damn too long. My hair is too full. There was time I used to misplace stuff in it and I do not lie on this, when I was little before I ever cut my hair I would have some of my friends call me a mad woman whenever I let my hair loose and I loved it. Long and short in a few years I am that girl that can say boldly say I love you with all my hair because it is going to be bigger than my heart at the rate it is going. The point is that it usually takes up to seven hours to braid my hair (I once did my hair for two days). Well Friday was bliss because I was the only customer in the shop and all four of them put all their hands on my big hair and head and finished it in less than seven hours.
Got home and fixed
myself some food and took pills for the ache. My parents came home and the TV
was kidnapped from me. Sad stuff, watched something mundane and went to bed.
No Boye still.
**********************************************************
Saturday was relatively
okay. My family had gone for a vigil the night before and had left me to stay with my grandmother (if you ask me pretty sweet deal) and they were sleeping
in.
So I arose early, and
waited for instructions from the mother ship which is Mama Nkem for what to
cook for breakfast. An hour later the message landed it was beans and plantain
porridge. Sweet stuff. Had mine with pap, then we cooked Banga and she went shopping
for some household thingys with David while my father punished me by holding on
to the remote and switching it to a Chelsea game or Arsenal I can’t really
remember which one.
My mother came back and
she crashed, so I served lunch and while papa Nkem and Nne (my grandmother) ate.
I came to see three missed calls. Well Boye was back from where he was. And we
had a beautiful conversation. The things we talked about will only remain in my
head and I will not share here. I struggled with not watching T.V because my father
had made it football Saturday. Its official I hate EPL. Those men will just be
kicking a football around a large pitch and they will be earning millions upon
millions weekly!!!! Why? It is really ridiculous that all I have to say. Okay, I take back the hate; I just don’t want
to understand it.
My brother came back
with his goons from rehearsal and made me make Semo for them and it was more
football. And more football and more
football. For a day that started great I
ended up watching tons and tons of a game I don’t like or understand. At the end of the day I cooked stew and tried
to watch Saturday Night Live but Mama Nkem didn’t get the first few jokes and
decided to punish me more.
She tuned the T.V to
Africa Magic. I thought she was joking. Two hours later she was still on that
movie that had an obvious ending just like 95% of all Nigerian movies. In anger
I stormed off to bed. The truth is I would have rather watched Investigation
Discovery, even all the gory stuff that may give me nightmares but no she just
had to do something that would make me cry or worse reduce my IQ.
As I tucked myself it, I
got a what’s app message and I honestly didn’t expect the contents.
Nkem Oyaghire
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