I have announced to my husband, and now to you, the world, that I am cutting my hair. Yes, I am going to cut it very very short and leave it like that. I don’t care weda the tin go fit me or not, or weda I look like a boy. I am highly irritated and tired with the stress of trying to make ur hair look good in this country. I took out my braids 4 days ago, and the undergrowth on my head be like forest. Infact the tin hard so tey , I no fit comb am, so I just find one yeye wig put on top am to manage until I am able to find the time to re-touch the roots.
The woman that does my hair is from Gambia or Kenya, lets call her Kenya Gambia. Each time I go to her to do my hair, she always has like some 3 people waiting in the queue, no matter what time I get there. She is very good, and although she takes her time to finish each customers hair, she manages to be quite fast and agile.
But what amazes me most is that, whenever I get there, and I’m like.. ‘ah, when can I do my hair o, this one that you have 4 people waiting?’ her response is always, * a quick glance at the clock, a quick look at the queue of women with all sorts of head, and then back at me with a smile and two words, ‘ taty minis’ ( 30 mins). So yesterday, after an unbelievably tiring day @ work, made worse by the horrific wig I wore on my head. As in that wig ehn, its like brick. I literally have to hang my head down to be able to bear the weight of the thing. And I cant laugh well, for fear say the wig go jus fly commot inside meeting room, so if person crack joke, na to jus show my 16 or so front teeth without actually laughing. I no fit nod or shake my head properly because na balance I ro ra balance the wig on my head with care and attention, so If I am asked a question that requires me to nod as well as answer, I would rather blink twice in response. Na u sabi if u no understand blinkology. Bottom line is….. …it’s not a nice feeling.. So I decided yesterday that after work, Id rush off to get my hair done and be back home within 1 hr. On my way to Kenya Gambia, I prayed fervently that all existing customers will vamoose or suddenly want to poo. And that na only bimbylads hair she go do. Alas, I was to be disappointed when I got there and she had someone waiting. For good measure, I asked her how long it would take, and she, performed her ritual of glancing around before pronouncing ‘ tarrty minis’. So I vexed and left her saloon, hoping that I would at least find another saloon on the same road.
Weda na luck we go call am, I sha found another salon that was completely empty. No single customer. Just one woman reading a book on ‘achieving success’ and another lady with a big curly afro. So I peeped in and asked if I could get my hair done. The Afro one ( whom I rightly assumed was the hairdresser), flew from her chair and grabbed me before I could even finish talking.. ( I don calculate say e be like say na me be first customer since last week!).
‘ oya siddown siddown’ she says, as the other lady, who by now had dropped her book, wore a nylon jacket for me.
‘which relaza?’ Afro asks, while massaging my static hair.
‘Elasta QP- do you have it?’ I responded, slightly confused at everything.
‘ no we don’t, but we will buy it for you now now..’ I don’t think I had time to reply for she had dashed out of the shop, in search for my relaxer. She comes back in 15 minutes and I am upset that it’s not the whole kit, but I shrug it off and allow her to begin the process.
She applies the first blob of relaxer to the lower half of my head, and it feels like my head is on fire. I try to hide my pain, while I grab the relaxer container to begin to read the contents. E be like say na Omo this woman dey pour on my head o,.,, egba mi,,. Who send me?
‘ is paining?’ Afro lady asks, through eye contact in the mirror.
‘Just small’ I replied, trying to chest the pain.. I mean she still had half of my head to go.
20 or so minutes later, Afro lady is still working her way slowly through my head, and I am screaming internally. Why is she soo frigging slow??? Did I tell her that I was competing for ‘ longest relaxer on head competition?’
‘ you wee trim dis hair o.. tangles everywhere.. see.. see’ she noted, and I nodded. Trim, bulldoze,chop, do anything but what you are doing now.
10 or more minutes later, she finishes applying the relaxer and pats my head lovingly, while admiring her handiwork. By now, I am convinced that this is her job interview. I am a test, a research piece.
She tries to make small talk, but I just dey squeeze my face in pain. She says I should wait 20 minutes, and I almost curse. You applied the relaxer for almost 40 minutes and u now want me to wait another 20 minutes? Not me and you. I could see smoke pouring from my hair, so I ask her to please wash it. When she begins to wash my hair ehn, I almost wept. She washed, and washed, and washed… infact, I almost said, ‘ wait, make I off my cloth so you go baff me’.
She finishes washing and then conditions my hair. She then says.. ‘ 5 minis, let it condition well well’…
All this time I am thinking, shoo,If I had jejely waited at Kenya Gambia, by now she would have done my hair finish o. Anyway, while I am conditioning my hair, I can’t help but notice as she rushes out side to hand out flyers of their salon.
‘skissss me..… skisssssss.. we do hair..’ she says, thrusting the flyers into the passengers hands. My hair don over condition by this time and I am beginning to fume. She comes back and starts to comb my hair, which believe it or not, HAS TANGLED!!lol..
‘I don no weda is the comb or is your hair, but it tangle o, you will trim?’ she asks again, and I’m like.. JUST FINISH MY HAIR AND LET ME GO HOME!! So she drags me to the chair, and my soaked office shirt clings to my body, making me shiver.
Then she says ‘ trim is five pounds estra o, is okay?’ WHAAATT!! No eees NOT OK!! You didn’t tell me this wen u grab me from the road o!! I couldn’t say no so I said, rather grumpily, fine. So she trims my hair for like 1 hr. By now, I am beyond reasonable. I am shaking in my char, trying to curtail my anger. Must she measure the exact length and dimension of each strand of hair??? The book reading lady says good night. And afro lady nods, seriously concentrating on my head. After trimming, she then starts to apply the rollers. My hubby calls at this time and laughs his head off at the fact that I am not done with my hair. Roller application would have lasted another hour, but I snapped!. When I saw that she would rolllllllllllllllllllllll the hair, then rollllllllllll the roller around the hair, gingerly and carefully, I knew I had to react. SO I said, ‘PLEASE, I DON’T HAVE TIME AGAIN, I HAVE TO GO’. To which she smiles and says, ‘soon’. To cut a really long story slightly shorter. I left the saloon with a half dried hair. I couldn’t stand it anymore. However, Afro lady, if u are reading this, kudos to u on ur excellent customer service, you are committed to ur work, but remember always that we are Londoners, and TIME IS MONEY!!!. And for this and other reasons, I hope I have been able to convince and not confuse you that bimbylads is justified in cutting her hair.
Bbs is coming soon, just needed to share this...