Hair

I have had my hair cut two times in my lifetime. Once in rebellion or defiance as most people would say of teenagers and the other as a sign of doing away with the old and adopting the new.

I had for years contemplated shaving my head bald. I really thought about it. I dreamt of it. A simple thing like that hounded me for years. I had hinted to my Mum about it but she couldn’t hear any of it. There was no use of approaching my Dad; his answer would be the same. According to them, good girls were meant to have shoulder length hair. My Mum thought of it proudly since she had never trimmed it since birth. By the way, it wasn’t really that long. I never had any attachment to it.

Then I went to high school, still obsessed with cutting it all down. One fine day, someone had a pair of scissors and I had hair, the next thing- I was absolutely bald. I felt relieved and happy. The hair didn’t look nice though, actually it looked hideous. Ladies, don’t dare a haircut with scissors unless it is an emergency. I spent the rest of the term looking like a chicken after a heavy downpour. But I braved it. It was a choice I had made. I was going to live by it. When I went home I could see my Mum’s and Dad’s disappointment especially when it came to going to the kinyozi(I came from a small hometown- Vinyozi’s are the domain of men). Mwas was the name of my barber (Why are most barbers known by nicknames or short form names?). That holiday I had a proper shave I requested Mwas to put a “cut” at the front of my head. My Dad almost hit the roof. Thank God it had grown back by the time I was going to school. It was invigorating to have a head to feet shower.

The second time I cut my hair, it was an emergency. It was either that or I was going to go banana’s. I felt like it was strangling me. After the birth of my daughter, I started feeling the uneasiness of my hair. It made me feel hot most of the time. I had toyed with the idea of dreadlocks and when I suggested it, I got a rebuffing “What will people think?”. So I stayed put while braiding my hair month after month. When the time came to visit Kenyatta market for a fresh do I felt sicker and hated the hair even more. I knew I was on the verge of doing something drastic.

One fine Thursday, I walked to D’s salon and asked him to shave my hair and that we start the process of locking it. D is one of those patient and passionate hairdressers who take time to explain about their trade. His specialty is (Was-he retired) dreadlocks and took the job with the seriousness of a surgeon. First he discourages you from starting as the journey is tedious and the results are borne much later. He often warns you “This is kind of permanent until you decide to cut your hair again”. If you remain true to your course after all the dont's, then he walks you the journey. That day I felt exceedingly liberated-I would have easily scaled Mt. Kenya. I knew it was not about just hair, I was leaving an old part of my life for good.  This was a new beginning.

When you see a woman cut/change her hair completely two things have most likely happened. One she has discovered/rediscovered herself and let go the old. Two, someone has gone through her or she has gone through someone and she is doing away with them.  Observe very carefully. True story.

With hair,

Sojourner.