Having
just recently cleared campus has left me with a lot of time to do a lot of
nothing really. There’s no HELB to go out and have some fun, talk of which I
have just received a text that I should start paying up! Can’t they at least
wait till I graduate and get a job??? Am I the only one, because I can get some
couple of million signatures and sue for harassment (if only!) The problem
isn’t just the student loan, but a lot of other girl issues. No actually, just
one major pain; my hair.
When I
was younger hair was not a big deal. My mom would wash my hair and she had this
equipment that would work wonders on my small head. She only had to plug it to
the electricity, and voila! Straight pretty hair held up in place with ribbons
perfectly and yes, it was pussy-cat. Or she would curl it and it looked like I
had a perm and I would brag all Sunday before evening fell and I would have to
endure as she plaited it neatly in lines made from joined “matutas”. If you were born as early as I was you are aware of the
term “kamatana”.
Someone
was however getting jealous. You see, I am a typical daddy’s girl. So when my
dad noticed that most weekends was about my hair, he had had enough! I started
out public speaking when I was young, and I loved those kids programs where
one would recite a poem or debate or talk about something or……….. you get the
flow. My dad noticed one girl, very articulate and all I would envision
becoming. He asked me, “Do you see that girl? Very bright, I bet you would like
to be just like her. No?” I nod, yes. I can even beat her. See, I am that good.
“I notice one thing that sets her apart. See her head? No stress from long
hair. That will definitely keep you from being better.”
Argument
sold. The next weekend, after having grilled meat and ugali at a local place in Kenyatta Market we headed to the barbers.
Under a large tree. The machine at the time was not electric. I told the barber
that he should at least leave some hair, I did not want to look like the guys.
He agreed. And thus I lost my crown and glory. Not a single sign that I once
had hair. Clean shaven? Even worse! Michael Jordan or our very own Nonini. I
ran all the way home for fear of being seen. My mother told me if I left the
house, I would grow orange or red hair and I believed her. I stayed indoors for
three weeks. Such a waste for the holidays!
I have
been thinking of going bald again. Then I wouldn’t have such a worry seeing as
there is no money. Then as it grew, I would look like Lupita or Alek Wek…………. I
can highlight and now let it grow orange or red as my dear mother had
forewarned when I was younger. Yes, my small head would look wonderful don’t
you think? My boyfriend thinks not, and he has a way of opening my eyes and
bringing me back to reality.
He
loves surprising me, my man. Little gifts here and there, don’t you just love
such undeserved treats? Well, today he was taking me out for cake. But he
further says he will shock me. He tells me to prepare. It’s big, very, very
big………….. I can’t wait! Maybe it’s the necklace I admired at the shop, the
bracelet, earrings? Maybe a pair of shoes!!! I am dying here, and no clues. So
I wait.
The
shock registered on my face when I saw him could not be anything I prepared
for. He was, well shocking!!! And different, and new, and all those things he
had told me to expect. Except the shock was on him. He was bald! All that
black, curly, wow, sexy, silky hair, gone! Clean shaven and did I say bald?!!
Argument
sold. I am not going bald.
