Me and my mane

Of late I’ve seen a couple of tales about hair, black hair in particular and I just thought I could chime with a random tale or two that I have about my hair and uumm… ‘bad’ hair days.

I have ‘good hair’ according to most people that have met me, good hair meaning it is thick, grows fast and it’s strong. I’ve done most things that a person can possibly do to their hair. I have cut it multiple times, dyed it, permed it, had it natural, put cornrows, had weaves, braids, dreadlocks, afro you name it I’ve done it.

good hair

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One hairstyle that I don’t often do is putting in braids. For various reasons but for the most part it’s because I’m not patient enough for it and I always wonder who will undo my hair for me when I’m done with the hairstyle.

So this one time I gave in to my stubbornness and decided that I’ll put in braids, I was on holiday from school and didn’t feel like dealing with my hair everyday so I thought braids would be the perfect solution.

Let me give you some context first, at this point in time my family and I had relocated to Lesotho (it’s a small country inside of South Africa, yes you read right a country within a country; country-ception BOOM!) , so finding a hairstylist was quite a task. After consulting with our house help and her reassurance that the lady she’d sought out was very good in doing hair, I was like what they hell? Why not?

So this lady came over to our house armed with multiple packs of braids and we got to work.

I was braided for most of the day, from about eleven am in the morning till late afternoon like until around four in the afternoon. Remember when I said I have ‘good hair’ one of the aspects of good hair is thickness, I have a lot of hair on my head. Like a lot. Like a lot. And I think the lady who came to braid me did not expect my hair at all. She was not used to it. So it was gonna take more than a day for her to finish doing it. We bid our goodbyes that day with her assurance that she would be back the next day to finish doing my hair.

The next came around and she was nowhere to be found. At first I thought okay maybe she’s just running a little late, she’ll probably be here any minute now right? WRONG!!



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Eventually the house help and I called her, and she said and I quote she can’t come to finish braiding my hair because her hands are ‘swollen’ from braiding it yesterday. Swollen. So there I was with a halfway braided head wondering what to do.

The house help then suggested that we get a second person to come finish braiding my hair instead of me undoing my halfway hair.

The worst part about it is that the first lady demanded to be paid for doing hair, and yet she didn’t even complete the job. And that was the last time I put braids in my hair to be honest, talk about a bad hair day.

1 Response

  1. thuita says:

    And here I thought finding a barber in a new country was a task … wow!

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