... NAPPTURAL JOURNEY Part I...

Ok readers, if you have read my previous posts you would know that I am a "nappy" hair enthusiast... haha!! Which basically means that I love everything about afro hair in its natural state... But this relationship with my hair has not always been a positive one... If you are a female of black or mixed raced origin, you may or may not have experienced the TRAUMA that is often involved with our hair care (those men that have sisters may know!)... and I am NOT referring to the numerous self-inflicted hair disaster stories you may have encountered as a teen at home ("I thought this hair dye it was CARAMEL, not ICE BLOND!!), or the salon mishaps experienced at the hands of an envious hairdresser ("I thought you WANTED it that short")...

...Oh no, my friends, I am talking about... MY MOTHER!! Before I discovered hair salons, relaxer kits, maximum strength gel and self-taught braiding, my Mum did my hair at home for me. Only problem was... she DIDN'T know how to do hair... and she didn't LIKE to do hair. From bending awkwardly over the side of the bath whilst my Mum used an old cup to pour water over my hair to rinse out the shampoo, to the battle of blowdrying and cornrowing my hair. If that wasn't bad enough my Mum didn't actually know how to braid... so it was 'doo-doo' plaits all the way *siiiigh*. Needless to say my hair was a peculiar sight to behold in my Roman Catholic, predominantly white primary school days *holds head in hands*.

One more thing, my parents originate from Ghana, West Africa and some of the native tongue - Twi - is written in this poem. But you won't need to understand it to get the gist of what I am saying! (Fellow Ghanaians please excuse any spelling errors ;)) Please leave comments. Enjoy!

"HEH! CAROL! Me dee BRA FOM, BRA FOM!"

I freeze in horror and gulp

"Yes Mum?"

She pauses for what seems like an age.

Then suddenly my heart threatens

to escape my ribcage

As her voice promptly

increases an octave in rage

as she firmly says;

"ME SI, BRA FOM!"

And I'm thinking "ah come on!"

I wearily drag my feet

from my bedroom to the landing,

Looking sheepishly towards

the bottom of the stairs

To be met by a face devoid

of all understanding

of what could be wrong...

"GO AND RUN THE WATER,

I NEED TO WASH AND CORNROW YOUR HAIR"

Translation - this is what I hear:

"CHILD PREPARE, 

'COS I'M YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE!"

DESPAIR! I shudder.

Wishing that a magic button

labelled 'Disappear Here' would appear

at the top of the staircase

But alas, make no mistake;

It is time to wash and cornrow my hair

The bathroom alights

with a tug of the light cord.

I close my eyes, a deep sigh

Open one eye, then the other

Oh lawd

Deep breath, chin up!

I stride towards the bath,

I fill the bucket up

and muster a feeble and nervous laugh.

But she's on the warpath...

I hear the unmistakable, threatening,

heavy footsteps approaching,

It's Mother... my arch-nemesis

Come to inflict pain like no other.

Me Struggle?? Why bother...?

I feel a gush of water

as I'm bent forwards,

Some trickles down my back,

the shampoo blurs my focus.

No matter how much she lathers

She still scrubs my scalp harder

WHY?? Can't even feel my scalp after!

My sister saunters past the bathroom door

Many times, breaking into fits of laughter

NOW I'm angry

But don't worry

Cos after me,

YOU'RE NEXT 'Sweet Sister'(!)

First chapter over

I face my next adversary. Yes, ANOTHER!

That BLASTED AFRO PIK HAIRDRYER...

The heat forever creeping higher,

The broken teeth of the afro pik

scraping my already tender scalp

I try to bite my lip "OUCH!"

Oops! It slipped out - I flinched

So now the consequence,

The hairbrush descends

with an almighty DOOOSH.. "ARRRRGH!!"

"TENA FAAKO,  SIT STILL, SIT STILL"

But the pain is immense!

Oh Lord, why must you punish me??

Whatever did I do

to be given hair so NAPPY?

I'm sorry, forgive me!

Just give me hair that is SILKY

Where both the wind and my fingers

Can roam freely

Ohh to be happy...!

I guess I'm stuck being NAPPY.