Hairdos: Mother, Grandmother and I-Part 2

Hello people. I know its been long, tooo long but this lack of a computer is really affecting me but I know I will prevail. So here is the part two of my true hair story that I wrote for O'Naturals. I hope you enjoy it and I wish you a very happy week. God bless


Hairdos-Lice


Saturdays came fast! My hair was loosened and washed every other Saturday. I really liked this hair time because the water cooled my head and I loved the smell of the shampoo. My happiness was always short lived because it also heralded the painful process of having my hair weaved. Grandma had given me a sample of her hair making skills two weeks ago and I knew I was in serious trouble!



At 4:45PM, Grandma called out my name. She had the adiagbon, the ilari and iyari (coconut oil, one toothed comb and hair comb) by her side. I put my stool down and reluctantly sat on it. And just like the first time, she clamped my head between her legs and started weaving my hair. As if this wasn’t painful enough, intermittently, she would release a foul blast of wind straight into my face and no matter how hard I wiggled, she would hold my head down and keep weaving.



I cried and cried till I was weak. My mother came out several times to ask her to be gentler but Grandma ignored her. The third time my mother came out, Grandma admonished her: "Look Mama Tope, if you come out one more time, I will leave her head alone and if you like carry her to those who charge you! I know you will look for any excuse to spend my son’s money but no one can say I didn’t try to curb your reckless spending!". At this my poor mother rubbed my back and went back into her room.



And so by the time Grandma finished my hair, my face was swollen and I looked defeated. I staggered to my parents’ room where my mother, on seeing me, grabbed me to herself. I begged my mother to cut my hair, but she said she couldn’t as it would only give Grandma another excuse to complain about how she disrespected her. And so the torture continued. At 4:30PM every other Saturday, just before Grandma weaved my hair, my mother would leave to attend the officers’ wives meetings she never used to have time for. The pain never got better and there wasn’t a time that Grandma didn’t pass wind. I thought it would never end.



Salvation came in the most unlikely way. I had moved into a new class for a new term when a little mixed race girl, Lucinda Ramos-Whyte, joined our class. I was the smallest in my class but when Lucinda arrived, I became the second smallest. Mrs Okondore, our class teacher, put us to sit together at the very front of the class so we could see the blackboard. For a couple of days, Lucinda didn’t speak to anyone and Mrs Okondore would sit with her at break time and go through the lessons with her. One day, Mrs Okondore asked us to share a book and read from it together. So we had no choice but to put our heads together and look at the book.We smiled at each other, I offered her sweets and by long break, we had become firm friends. I taught her all the games I knew like ‘ten-ten’ and ‘my mother told me’ and she taught me hop scotch and single Dutch skipping.



One week to my appointment with Grandma, Lucinda’s dad came to our class to speak with Mrs Okondore. He was very tall and skinny and he spoke very slowly. After he left, Mrs Okondore went around the class inspecting us and telling us what she had discussed with Lucinda's dad. Lucinda looked at me sadly as she asked me if I still wanted to be her friend. I threw my arms around her laughing: of course I would still be her friend!



As soon as I got home, I ran up the stairs into the kitchen where I knew my mother would be and announced proudly "Mommy, I have lice!" I didn’t care about shaving my head to gorimapa and hearing the gorimapa song being sung for me because Grandma would never have to weave my hair again. I could almost sense the relief in my mother’s eyes. That evening my hair was loosened and a scarf tied around my head. Mom bought some head lice medicine and took me to Oga Barber whose shop was down the street.



I felt no sadness when he cut my hair to a short comb through. He applied the medicine and combed the lice out. I sat waiting for him to give me gorimapa but he just smiled and asked me to stand up and go with my Mom. I looked up at her, puzzled as she led me back to the car. "This should be easier for you to manage now, abi?" I nodded happily. "Thank God!" She exclaimed. "Why don’t we go to Apapa Amusement Park next Saturday?" We both laughed happily as we returned home: lice free, hair free and definitely pain free.


Thank you Omozo for the opportunity to do this for your blog. I'm grateful and thanks for the editing. I hope you're doing sometjing with it, you have the gift babe. God bless xx

For Melissa Hasbrook

It was a simple way we met, Melissa and myself. It was a poetry gig in Wigan. We both performed and somehow, someone introduced us and we started talking and I invited her to come stay at my flat and she accepted. I remember apologising profusely about the dingyness of the flat and she graciously told me it was a good flat.

She told me about her life and I shared mine and she told me of her history and I told her of mine and we chatted late into the night and the next day. I was sad to see her go, this new friend of mine. Imagine! A child of American Indian descent and I a mixed hesistant child of Dahomey and Yoruba origin. Light and dark, smooth and dred, and it didn't matter , for when we spoke, we were children of a common note-earth.

So the bond was forged and she inspired me with her pictures and my poetry of them and she wrote constantly to praise my faltering voice, reassuring me that I had something to say and ears listened. And I confirmed her of a soft bed and lighted heart whenever she came. And as the father watched from the castletop for his son, so I watched for her return.

She returned some months ago and light filled my room but the darkness of my pain formed a shadow which muted my joy, however, she used her light to pierce a hole through and left. Encouraging me to tear further and step back into the light I once danced in. Slowly, I listened for the drumbeat and gingerly lifted my feet, arched to descend in dance. I am dancing now, arms akimbo, head roll-tating in time with the percussion gong, feet laughing along with the gongo as rhythmn slithers up and down my back arching it with esctasy.

Melissa, sister in light, here is this for you.


For Melissa




With a harsh toll, I was awakened

to a new journey removing from self-pity.

Your parcel placed in my hand received with

false cheer from the postman.

Puzzled. I sat on my bed, smiling at memory

wondering what you laid beneath.

Bubblewrap. My childish piqued, till I opened

my epiphany.

Frien. I cried when I saw the prints of life

briefly shared to my excitement.

Realising how much I missed; a heart

who loves, receives me without judgement

I felt ashamed and cried some more.

Salt, tobacco, sage, (juniper?)

You brought healing in a bowl

I let it sit on my table; afraid of what

I did not know.

I confess, I let fear dictate my departure

from Mother Earth, letting her sit,

forlorn, in a blue bowl. Till,

you left and I, apologetic, asked her

forgiveness as I threw your gift on her face.

Friend. Sister. Dear friend.

Forgive my apprehension; I am

a creature of bad habits.

Skin conditioned to prickle at things unknown.

You, a constant voice of praise of my

episodic verse; my inspiration

by Platt’s grave; a visit of different cultures

in a bedsit diverged of prejudice; a light

inviting flickers of hesitation into a

secure knowledge.

I am born again. Tears washing

away the pities of a new age. Lights

like yours confirming again.

God is Love.

My Fight with Fibromyalgia

I have promised some time ago that I was going to explain the condition I'm dealing with but was really hindered by ill health, the lack of a computer and time, but today my church The Bridge kindly let me use their computer in their office so I'll be putting all I know. Now, please note that it took the doctors about 2 years to diagnose me and I had previous underlying conditions like Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and while I'm dealing with the condition now and making the best of it through Nutrition, if you want, you can go to the site and read up on it.

I started by being very tired for no good reason. Typically, I am a very strong person physically; I put it down to going to a Military School but uncharacteristically, I got very tired and went into almost shut down mode. Then shortly after that, I developed a severe headache that did like my head would split! As a typical Nigerian, I called home and started praying. My GP couldn't find anything wrong but I was in agony and because it came and went, some friends thought I put it on, just to get off work, but while I have my moments like everyone, the pain was very real and I was prescribed steroids but they didn't help.

Shortly after that, just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I started having severe pain in my joints and my body would heat up and I had some swellings and no matter what test I did  and believe me, I did them all, nothing could be found. The only explanation my GP could come up with was that it was a blood condition I inherited from my dad-Alpha thalessimia, however, it wasn't enough to create the type of symptoms I was displaying.

Well, I can tell you, it didn't get better. I went out so many times for healing prayers, I went to a Chinese pratitioner to seek help, some people started avoiding me, so many rumours were passed around about me. I was living in hell. I couldn't tell my folks back home the severity of my conditions because I didn't want to alarm them but I can tell you, there were times I thought death had to be better than what I was going through. I was in pain all the time, my bones ached, my nerves were super sensitive, I was tired all the time and I had no strength as before, sometimes, I struggled to even dress myself!

I love to cook but I couldn't even cook for myself. I remember one particular day where the pain was so bad, my body was on fire, I had a raging headache, I could barely make it out of bed to go to the loo. No one was around as I lived alone; and one thing Fibromyalgia does for you is it lets you know who your friends truly are, I was hungry but could do nothing about it until my friend and angel, Laura came over after work and she made me something. I had to sleep with my door open as I wasn't certain if I could get to the door.

Let me tell you one truth, there is no way one will be in that situation especially living alone and not fall into depression and it is dark and ugly, so I truly sympatize with anyone who is going through depression. However, after pressing on, I got a diagnosis early this year in February. Though it didn't take away the pain, at least it had a name and it wasn't some curse put on me because of my many sins ( someone actually told me this-to my face!) and once I knew what it was, I started learning about it and finding ways to deal with it.

I would love to say that I found a cure and its all gone and life is great but that is not true. It's a battle I face daily but I'm facing it. After my diagnosis, I informed my GP and my office and I started treatment. I joined a support group and a singing group at church because one of the ways to feel better is to do what you love as it releases happy hormones and I love to sing especially hymns. My symptoms have gotten worse in recent times as I am now falling more but I believe its just a blip and I'll overcome that. I have also started learning how to tailor my diet to help make life more manageable.

Now note, fibromyalgia is incurable according to the consultants and my entire lifestyle has been adjusted to accomodate, for now, this condition but I believe that one day I will be drug free and I will be able to be the strong Abi again. For now, I  try to live life to its fullest each day, I want to be the happiest, fun filled person people ever meet and I personally have good reason for that, I have a personal relationship with Christ and I've got a joy and peace that nothing can take away now. Yes I know I may have to get into that conversation when I meet the man but I know that he will see the spirited firecracker under the frail skin and fall in love with that. And yes! I will love hard, laugh heartly and be throughly delighted with life.

Do I think I am unfortunate, honestly , no, however I know, I solemnly have to consider this condition within my life but it has opened my eyes to the advantage of good health above money and frills. I enjoy life more, I'm more willing to try things, I am determined to finish whatever I start; it has taken me almost 2 and a half hours to type this as my hands hurt with nerve ache but you're reading it thanks to a massage ball because I finished it and if that is not a sign of one who will overcome then I don't know what is!

This is the life I'm living and what a cracking* life that is!

*cracking in Bolton parlance means brilliant

Engaged Lines- A new story

For many years I lived with my friends at our address, each person had their flat but we would come together and have meals, games, conversations etc. For a long time, I took it as granted until one person decided to move out and return to their home. I remember one night where we were eating in oe flat and generally having a good time and I said to them 'girls, hold on to this memory, because one day, that's all it will be, we may never be able to be together like this'. It was like a prophecy, both girls moved out, then the guy and I was left alone. I didn't grieve, I couldn't because I just couldn't believe that it was all gone. Then slowly with help from new friends, I started to grieve and this story is a result from that process. Pardon me if its a bit out there, that's what its meant to be. God bless x

ENGAGED LINES.




It wasn’t till I got to the junction of WaterWorld that I was certain that something was definitely wrong. I had suspected it two days before, when I woke up at ten am and didn’t hear Nife’s familiar two taps on the door. I had woken up with that disconcerted feeling where you know something familiar is gone but you just can’t quite put your finger on it.

This feeling had continued when I dressed up and was about to go up to Nife’s flat to find out how I had gotten up before her, Cylan had stood behind my door, arm lifted, knuckles clenched to knock when I opened it and he scared the daylights out of me.

At my strangled scream, he gave me a gentle smile and put down his arm and introduced himself as the new tenant in Nife’s flat and told me his name. At my puzzled frown, he said she had talked about me and had kept him as a surprise. Now, I know that I had travelled to the States for two weeks and she had mentioned a change of some sort but I was certain that in our recent conversations, she hadn’t mentioned a new tenant or her wish to move out. I shrugged and looked up at him, he was quite tall, but I wondered what he wanted at my door.

He said he had come to ask for some oil, olive oil to be precise, which as I turned back into the flat to get for him, he walked in and started looking around, somehow, I was also drawn into looking around my flat and it felt somehow strange like someone had been in it in my absence and moved things around. Still in my scrambled mind, Cylan asked me to come up to his flat and I followed him, carrying the oil, into what was formerly Nife’s flat. He opened the door and it was very bare and looked very bright like someone had painted white light over the blue colour of the wall.

I sat on the only chair in the room while Cylan poured the oil into a bottle as he asked about my plans for the holiday. I had not been aware of a holiday so I asked him what he meant. Apparently, in my absence, the government had declared a two day holiday to celebrate some royal event. I mused aloud that it was strange that it had not been mentioned in the States then Cylan asked how my holiday was. To my bemusement, it was like I couldn’t remember much, I went quiet but Cylan just shrugged and silently said many things passed unmentioned in the world.

Without much time to reflect on my forgotten holiday, I somehow ended up spending the whole day with Cylan in his flat. We chatted, listened to music and ate flat bread with the olive oil. Cylan said it was very healthy and that olive oil made him more ‘aware’, it all sounded a bit dramatic to me but the meal was nice. We got on really well and I started to wonder if Nife had organised his ‘moving in’ to match make. I had had boyfriend drought for over two years, so I guessed she was trying to set me up and with the way our conversation had gone and his eye appeal, I could be buying her a ‘thank you’ present.

However, I went to bed with a sense of ennui, it should have been a perfect day but there was some kind of overcast.

Waking up late again the next day, I decided to clean up my flat and call Nife and some other friends. It was looking at my mobile that triggered my first worry for the day. My best friend Caroline hadn’t called me at all! This was very unusual as she was normally the first and last voice I heard daily. I was perplexed with myself that I hadn’t even noticed the previous day, I had spent so much time analysing my meeting and chatting with Cylan that I had forgotten my friends.

Picking up my mobile, I called Caroline to chide her for not calling but the line remained engaged and the same thing happened with every number I dialled. So I decided to finish clearing up, and then try again. I had nearly finished when Cylan came down, I opened the door and he was standing there but with another girl. Oh… she was tall, slim and very pretty. I wasn’t impressed but I kept a straight face as Cylan introduced her as Ada. To be honest, I wasn’t very charitable to her but she was very chatty and after sometime, she wore me down and we started talking about music and when I mentioned that it seemed the phone networks were down, after I had tried to call Caroline and my other friends and still got the engaged tone. Ada shrugged and said it was a usual thing, I disagreed though and questioned why all the providers didn’t leave a customary clients information jingle to inform on problems. Then Ada looked at me, then at Cylan and giggled. This annoyed me.

We ended up watching a movie which wasn’t so memorable late into the night and then I asked them to excuse me as I needed to get up early for work the next day. Cylan then said he also had to go out first thing in the morning and we would walk together. I gave him a half smile and said that would be fine and then they both left but I peeped out my door and found that they both went up back to Cylan’s flat. Very annoyed and confused, I went to bed.

I woke up early, feeling a strong sense of oncoming change; I couldn’t shake it off as I got ready. After a while, I started to feel rather light headed but I pushed through and finished up. Shortly after, Cylan and Ada arrived at my door, with an arched eyebrow, I mentally clocked that Ada hadn’t gone home. Giving her a disgusted eyeballing, I stepped out with them and we headed towards the train station.

As we walked, everyone we met, who normally said hello to me, walked past without a word or even a smile. Again I checked my phone to call Caroline as I was now quite annoyed with her and even though the network reception bars were full, the line still stayed engaged. Very puzzled now, we kept walking and as we crossed the road to where WaterWorld was, the puzzlement left and certainty settled in and my heart started to beat rapidly.

It was the flowers that I saw first, then the police notice asking for information about a serious collision, and then I saw the picture. With my chest thumping and feeling very faint, I felt Cylan’s and Ada’s cold hands hold me as I finally understood.