Cheating never ends well, I swear; not in relationships, not in anything. When I asked how much she'd do my hair for, she told me a price of three hundred shillings less than that of my stylist. Add that to the fact that I was too lazy to go to my place and that's a bonus! I made an appointment for the next day.
I get queasy in the stomach every time I remember that I even skipped breakfast for a hair betrayal. Looking back, I swear those chapatis were the only loyal thing that day. I asked my friend to call me when the chapati were ready so I could go and eat. Chapati and I, ride or die. If food had a loyalty program, I'd be platinum; story for another day.
I'm a great follower of my intuition, and that day, my intuition didn't whisper; it screamed like a banshee on a karaoke night. Haha, but who was I? My gut was staging a protest, but laziness was the dictator in charge. And even with my gut doing backflips, I told it to sit down and behave!
The style I had in mind was box braids, makeba sized, just a little bit smaller. Something that wouldn't stress me while taking it out.
I got there and made myself comfortable. This woman started braiding from the front! Ah, the froooont! I gasped. My ancestors gasped. Even my scalp filed a formal complaint. Who does that on Rasta?
"What's up? Why are you starting from the front? Shouldn't it be from the back?" I tried to protest.
"I want to align the front area. Just wait and see."
Right there and then, I knew that I had made a big mistake. I was too lazy that I couldn't get up to leave because I needed my hair done that same day! I had to convince my gut that it'd turn out great; a big lie! Not to forget that her hands were braiding like she was trying to summon the ancient spirits through my scalp. I half expected thunder to strike and a portal to open.
Ring ring, my friend called me for breakfast. My hunger had doubled already with the pain and frustration. I really needed to click out loud, so I excused myself, thanks to the breakfast call. I clicked my way back to my friend's house, nearly inventing a new language.
I got to the house and upon entering, there was my friend. She looked at me, looked at my hair, and burst out laughing like she had won a bet with the universe! I swear the way she laughed, you'd have thought that Netflix had just dropped season 2 of my misery.
"You'll get done tomorrow," she teased. I didn't know whether to cry or braid her mouth shut. I gave her a bombastic side eye, followed by my newly found language of the day, a couple of clicks.
The worst part was not going back to the salon, but upon finishing the braiding, my head felt like it was carrying two extra kilos that couldn't balance well. I looked like a walking Wi-Fi router; signal strong in the front, dead zone in the back. She had made my braids at the back, bigger and less dense than at the front! And even the worser part—yes, English, please allow me—was discovering my scarce behind three days later!
Until now, when I remember that, I still click! Like, who sent me? Probably the same spirit she was summoning through my scalp.
Thank you for reading❤️!
