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Monthly Archives: March 2012

The Hair Situation

I’ve just returned from the hairdresser’s and I’m not happy. I am not ridiculously fussy about my hair but it MUST look good always, or be covered if I’m outdoors. Interestingly enough I love my hair looking wild when I’m indoors. It is very thick and luscious and two weeks after a perm it looks like it took the unanimous decision to revert to its natural afro state. Back to why I’m unhappy. I already knew what style I wanted, i.e the one shown in the pic above. 2 weeks earlier I had sent my braid specialist the pic to ask what type of hair was needed.

Warning #1 She told me to ask the hair shop. I should have taken that as a sign that this deal wasn’t going to go down well.

Warning #2 Next I made my way to the hair shop and after a couple of feeble sentences with Mukhtar, left  store with what looked like a close match to what I wanted. My hairdresser suggested I bought 3 packs but knowing my hair I took  4.
Warning #3. Hairdresser takes one glance and declares it isn’t going to be enough. So I suggest cane rowing the front, same effect, no big deal. She finishes the canerow and says it still isn’t enough. So we agree I’ll go and buy the weave version of the hair and weave the back instead. Even better for me as it means I’ll be done sooner.

Warning #4.  The hair only comes in braid format, weave version is not available. I also learn that although there are possibly hundreds of brands, but no two brands are the same. So I purchase the closest weave I could identify and hope for the best.

My preferred braid

My preferred braid

Warning #5. It wouldn’t blend. Silky versus kinky. Now I’m gutted. The logical thing was done which was forget my afro style and go with the silky one ( which I completely do not like)

The battle between coming to terms with the turn of events and refusing to be angered by Aunty Catford’s conversation begins. I don’t know why she’s called Aunty Catford, my only theory is that she lives in Catford. The entire time I’m there she doesn’t crack a smile. And as she’s the one doing my hair I dare not ask why she’s called Catford. For all you know they might not even be saying Catford, though I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m hearing.

See, you’re lucky. That first hair you got was rubbish.‘ The ‘R’  and the ‘sh‘ are heavily emphasized. Me, I quietly denounce every negative pronunciation over my afro.

‘It would have tangled very badly and you would have just wasted your money’, she continues. Some people just can’t take a hint! You can’t force one to like what one does not like.

But I like tangled! Tangled is natural’, I scream with my inside voice!

See how nice it looks? It looks like human hair!’

Every single person in the shop agrees with agama lizard style nods. It feels like I’m in a war with everyone in the shop.

Me, I want my face to be admired too, ie ‘your hair suits you‘, or ‘you are beautiful all round, love the hair too’. What I don’t want is to have people admire the hair I purchased from Mukhtar. You might as well go to his shop and admire all the hair he sells.

I don’t usually wear weaves, I prefer braids or my relaxed hair cut in a pretty nifty style. So this is new for me.

Silky Hair

Silky Hair

I’ll see how I feel in the morning, If I’m still unhappy I’ll execute plan B.

It is morning.

Thank you for reading, do come back!

By Force History Lesson

I feel so sorry for my friends and family. I recently enrolled on a course in period interior design. Attending a design course isn’t new to me and normally I wouldn’t even say much about it, but this one is different. It is different because I have never had an affinity for period design in any way, shape or form. I mean why would you want to design your home with the old when you are young and hip? The truth is that I actually nursed a certain anxiety over the subject, personally I prefer contemporary decor, and in my previously limited thinking I associated ancient styles with ancient folks. Kind of like my Mum’s Wedgwood plates, you know the blue and white one with a scenery of what looks like a Victorian playground. Give me plain but brightly coloured, unusually shaped plates any day. However in preparation of my taking the world by storm, I realised that citing ignorance during my acceptance speech of my lifetime achievement award just won’t do, so I thought even though I don’t particularly like the style, I at least need to be educated about it. So here we are.

I am now in love with history! Poor hubby can’t even enjoy a simple movie or T.V program any longer as I’m constantly pointing out the different eras that the fireplace or staircase bannister came from. I go on to explain how design styles, though limited to nobility and the wealthy, travelled through time and various countries. Rome and France were the trend setters, but because of the limited transportation ( we’re talking 18th and 19th century) a style could be in vogue in France but wouldn’t arrive in Britain for another 100 years or so. The poor Americans had nothing going on for a long time as most travelling was done within Europe. Would you like to know how churches came to be so tastefully designed and decorated? No? Well I’ll tell you anyway.  In a nutshell, during the renaissance period, many wealthy families lived very extravagant lives. The guilt of the way they lived caused them to donate  a lot of their money to the church, and even build elaborate churches. It was seen as their penance especially since some of the wealth was ill-gotten. Did you know Leonardo Da Vinci dissected human bodies to see how the body was created, so he could recreate it, sinews, muscle and all in his art? You knew? I didn’t! Did you know that the mistresses of monarchs were formally recognized as the Royal mistress? She had to have certain qualities and not just anyone could fill that role. She had to be a married woman for example. And her husband would have been very proud to share his wife with the King!

I won’t bore you any longer, oh and the reason I feel sorry for my friends and family (and now you) is that I can’t stop talking about my new found knowledge! It is so fascinating and I’m thankful that I am able to learn, i.e the boys haven’t sucked my mind away with their boisterous activities- like child #3 who is suddenly obsessed with wars. Search me. He is gathering knowledge on all the different wars (including dates!) and watching YouTube clips of Saving private Ryan. He told me about the cold war, why it started and about the Battle of Red Cliffs, fought between Northern and Southern China, what’s worrying is that this particular war was fought in 208 AD. I have no idea why an 8-year-old would be interested in that, he still has us baffled.

Here’s wishing you an awesome week ahead, and may the writer’s block never catch me again, amen!

Thanks so much for reading 🙂

Why I haven’t blogged in a while…

There are many possible reasons for my blogging hiatus.

It could be because my neighbour across the street still has what appears to be a christmas tree complete with lights on his front porch. Or the fact that Josh’s words keep replaying in my head- ‘mum, see no car has hit me yet’. Uttered moments after I informed him that sticking his head outside the window of the moving car would most certainly get him hit.

It may well be because of my new friend who shall remain nameless. I tried desperately to get her to dicsuss her roots, she’s Nigerian and I was interested in the part of Nigeria she hails from. I love to show off my knowledge of the little-known parts, okay, one little-known part. She seemed rather uncomfortable, choosing instead to stir the conversation from ‘village talk’ to Britico talk.

Truth is I don’t know why I haven’t blogged in so long. I have had errr… ‘writer’s block’. Yes I have. I’ve been short of ideas, actually I have had ideas but they’ve been limited to single lines. That wouldn’t do for Pawpaw and Mango (which I just realized has no tagline, suggestions welcome). The single lines of course being the titles, like: The morning after the night before I took too many Ibuprofen  capsules and panicked while I imagined my stomach digesting itself as I recalled the story my dad told me of the man who reacted badly to Ibuprofen and lost no less than two pints of blood ‘before his very eyes’. Or- I wonder if my neighbour is an ax murderer, I have no reason to believe he is but you can’t trust anyone these days especially since he refers constantly to ‘Marie’ and we have never seen a ‘Marie’ or any semblance of it her.

I stumbled across a Nigerian Singer on Twitter. I’d never heard of her before she was trending that particular day, and like all normal folks I clicked to see what the fuss was all about. Apparently someone had called her ‘ugly’, I have no idea why she chose to respond to this person, but she started calling him names, vacillating between English and Yoruba.. Idiot, Oloshi! Your mouth is dirty! Seriously, on Twitter! That was the funniest tweet conversation I’d come across. But even that did not evoke a decent blog post.

My dear friend and fellow blogger Justjoxy has been writing a mini-series over on her blog. It was supposed to be a short story, at least that’s what she told us. Two parts at the most. Three postings later and we are yet to read the end. Humph! It is a very good read, would make you think before you wear your weave again. No she isn’t one of those activists for natural black afro. She’s an activist for rare species like giant king prawns sauteed in peppers and ginger, and the like. Which is precisely why I haven’t been able to write. I’ve been reading!

Thank you for coming back, I promise not to ever allow Justjoxy and her Sango priestesses stop me again, ever!