Hello people, remember that I told you about my guest slot on O'Naturals, where once a month, I contribute a story or poem to their site. Well in case, you couldn't get to their page. Here again is the story in its full form. I hope you enjoy and I hope to be able to sort out my insurance and buy a comp soon.
By the Way- Fibromyalgia is a terror but I refuse to be beaten. I will overcome. I fell down in two places this last week and one was in public- my local bank¬ no need to say, it will be in a while before I go back there. Well keep me in your prayers and I'll be telling you more and putting more poetry up. God bless
HAIRSTORY
Time had passed and I knew I wasn’t as easy to recognise but as soon as he saw me, Deji knew it was me. The first thing he did, after spinning me around, was reach for my hair. 'You changed it!' he exclaimed, half accusingly and half incredulously. He knew how much I cared for my hair in the past and how much money he had personally paid for its upkeep. I smiled and shrugged. My hair tossed a bit in the breeze. 'Well, I like it much better this way’ I replied. We talked some more, exchanged numbers and I left in a cab, leaving him standing, waving at me.
Deji and I dated while I was at university. He was a year ahead of me and from the first day he set eyes on me, he wouldn't let me be. He told me he was certain that I was an angel sent to him from ‘Jah’ above. At first, he was frustrating but I soon started laughing at his words and that’s how we ended up spending the day together. Before he left he asked me if I would go out with him and I asked him how he knew I was ‘his angel’. He said that when I walked in and light shone on my head, he just knew.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or choke! I told him that I had just had my hair done with a 100% human hair weave and it was most likely the gloss from the oil that caught the light. He shook his head and said it didn’t matter, I was still his angel and with that he left. From then on, he visited me frequently, took me out for lunches, ate in my room when I cooked and helped me with some of my assignments. And so we just sort of fell into being a couple.
On one occasion, I had just put in an 18 inch Brazilian hair weave when Deji came over. Although my head felt tight, I looked so good. Deji fell in love with it and could not stop stroking my hair. It would have been a romantic time together if he hadn't caught his fingers in my hair, while he was stroking it, and that hurt terribly. He tried to turn around and sat on some of my weave while I was trying to move and the pain actually brought tears to my eyes! It was disastrous. This was to be the script for the majority of our intimate moments. My hairstyles seemed to be causing us hassles and soon enough we started arguing. I got very angry and kicked him out of my room when he suggested me having less extended tresses. Deji tried to get back with me, to be fair, and I did try to make it work but my hair got in the way.
We broke up, Deji graduated and I never heard from him again. I finished school, traveled to the US for my Masters, my hair went natural and I finally got dredlocs. I had been living in the States for five years when I bumped into Deji again. My phone rang as I got out of the cab. It was Deji. He said it was wonderful to see me again and that I looked amazing with my hair. I smiled to myself and said it was good to see him too. He asked if we could meet up for lunch, we fixed a date and he hung up.
From one lunch date to several other lunch dates and then dinner dates. We realized we were still single and Deji asked me to be his girlfriend. We laughed so much and found a new rhythm with each other. Deji said it was like he was with a different woman and it made him happy.
I look into the mirror to check my reflection one last time. Deji’ is standing behind me and he bends to sink his nose and hands into my hair. I don’t flinch or wave him away. I lean back and remind him we’ll be late for the reception. He smiles at me through the mirror and says the guests can wait; after all we are the bride and groom.
Edited by Omozo Ehigie
6 comments:
Maybe you should be called the 'hair muse'...short and on point...classic tale of a lost love and recovery! though you never mentioned if you were in love with deji before he decamped the first time? I'll guess that's a rhetorical!
Hehehe, well I guess being love is a given. I have heard and note I said HEARD that when a lady lets a man run his hand through her hair, its almost a given that she loves him. So, thank you for reading. I'm very grateful.
Nice story. Imagine breaking up with a guy over hair! Is this real by any chance or purely fiction?
Good on you regarding your attitude to Fibromyalgia. Sending you loving thoughts as you cope with it.
Yay! NN. I've hoped you would come around. I'm really enjoying your posts but there's no way to follow you like other blogs, pls update me.
Now. Back to me. the story is fiction but think about it, if having weaves can make a girl's head sore and her man keeps wanting to put his hands in her hair, it can cause some problems. Actually, the original story had more details but we had to clean it up for O'Naturals readership.
About the fibromyalgia, it took almost 2 years before I could get a diagnosis! I underwent various tests, mostly invasive and very distressing but I'm glad I now know what's wrong with me, so I can now battle it with knowledge and prayers.
I was on 47 tablets a day at one time plus morphine but its reduced vastly now and I'm using medicine, diet, prayers, support group, etc to manage it. I will overcome. Thank you for your thoughts and I hope you go around and read other stuff. God bless x
Didnt know Naija men like running their hair through girl's hair lol. i thought years of 'don't touch' would have conditioned them by now.
Nice story!
Dear Ginger, the thing shocked me too when a Naija man asked to touch my hair and then ended up running his hands over but when it became 'apparent' that his 'touch' was not honest, i removed his hands fiam!
Thanks for reading, there's always a piece of me that goes in my stories.
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