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

What This Woman Wants

This is a follow on poem to the previous poem. Wishing you light, hope and love. God bless x

First published 7th of September 2010


Safety



All I want is to be

a woman.

Sweet mud sucking between my toes

Grass, itchy fresh tickling my back

Strong touch holding yet

Letting me free-fall as my head

Tilts back, eyes squint in the sun

My eyes watching God.


I want to be a woman

Subtle sand seeking secret crevices

Wind tugging my hair, teasing

Asking me to join in play as

Rain peppers my skin with wet kisses

Showing me how love can

Come down as I lift my lips, my eyes

Firmly opened watching God.


All I really want is to be

A woman.

Jumping in the river as currents

Envelope me with wet desires

Tendrils, trail around me, caress

Softly , set me on fire

Call me to the deep, asking

To let go, be free as the waters

Bathe me , my eyes gaze to the

Sky tenderly watching God.


I just want to be a woman

Sunrays warming my back as

Sweet salty trails run from

My back down my legs. Intimate

Marking its way down territory

Wind blowing coolness as salt dries

On my upper lip. I lick, tasting

Love, life. A bird flies with cry,

Smiling , I gaze up, the clouds

Sanguine in the sky and there’s

God’s eyes watching me.

Whispers

Does the lady protest too much? I don't know, I'm no lady! Just a question though. How does one really know?

First published on Wednesday, 11 February 2009

Misread things and February



Again, the month where we fall, get out, think and hate love is here and already I'm sick of it! Why one month has to have so many emotions tied to it is beyond me but since I'm slowly converting to the whole idea of this love thing. (I have good examples around me...its rubbing off) here's something for people enjoying the magical experience of that crazy thing called love. Note though, that I put my personal abilistic spin on it.



Sunset.


In your shadow

Comfort looms

I am wrapped tight like

Kola nut in shell.


Fingers trace outline of

Lips, eyes, lashes, dimple

I stick a tip in, tickle;

Bubble of laugh from

my stomach

Tumbles up into

my chest

Out of my throat. I. Am. So. Happy.


Sunrise.


In the cast

Shelter stays

I am cocooned like

Fish in deep water, there is safety

Freedom at once.


Lips graze then

Part and tongue flicks

Picks up salt, grit

Familiarity

Pucker, press, imbibe essence of

Deliciousness, which is you.

In here

I am whole, found,

alive, true, sane, complete

filled, loved.


Yours.

I absolutely love this song and I think it fits with the poem-feel free to enjoy!

When Love Comes

I'm using the term 'Love' here very loosly since I'm not a person who does PDA (Public Displays of Affection) well. I always want to slap people who just do all that kissy kissy stuff in public! Call me a prude, but I believe that love-(I think my last post settled what we call love, or rather what I call love) should be a private, beautiful thing, it should be graceful, gentle and tender, something people consider a priviledge to see. However, what do I know? Maybe I'll be one of those irritating women who coil around their men at every given opportunity, trying to stamp their lip imprint on him so that everyone would know, he belongs to her! I shudder at the thought.

First published on Thursday, 27 November 2008


If- More Sham Lyrics



I'm still going on the theory of what love might feel like, so here's another poem.

PS I'm working on the hate theory too, just must get the emotion right. Cheers!



Breathe


I am tucking my nose

into that indent your head

made on my pillow,

catching every scent of your skin.



Its wood, grass, wind, rain

mud. Fresh, clean, spicy.

How I adore your smell!



I inhale deep, wrap myself in

the towel you left, lie

half asleep, wondering if you

have your face tucked in

something of mine,

remembering.

Jewel-Melody for Elizabeth

First published on the 25th of June 2010

I don't know why but I didn't start off liking you much. We weren't friends and I prefered Jokesman to you. But your love stayed strong, unyeilding,constant and I grew to know you, understand you and like you very much.

Many unfortunately don't have someone like you in their lives and it makes me wish I could share you so they could know just how wonderful it can feel.

You taught me that there's nothing too high for me to reach, too hard for me to fail (even maths!) and I thank you and even though I say it everytime to you when we talk, I just want to say again. I love you mum, thank you for everything.




Wura

The very bones of you
Yielded and moved to birth me.
The flesh of you tore and
Pumped blood, pus, water
On my clumsy eyes.
The tears of you, mingled with
My sweaty dark head and
You saw a miracle.

Wura

The bones of you
The flesh ripped from you
The very meat and blood of you
I love.

Christmas Politeness

This was written on the 16th of December 2006 and its a bit out of date as we're now in January but do enjoy and please feel free to leave your comments. God bless (yeah I said it!)


The holidays are here and its the time to eat and be merry , see family (if you have any still talking to you) and gain weight you'll spend the entire next year trying to shift. But is it really? What happened to the Christ in the Mass? Yeah I've heard of all the baloo about it being a pagan holiday and the church hijacking it but wait a minute! it still doesn't mean that something phenomenal has happened! Christ was born and accept or not, His birth and death and resurrection has spun a whole multitude of people and events having something other than the madness of this world to cling to.

And yearly, ways are found to squeeze Him out of our lives, its like we are afraid to find out He is really alive, as my dad used to say 'The world denies that which it fears the most, hoping in denial will be safety' Sorry people, e no go happen! I belong to a writers' group and there are several people who just take delight in running down God, Jesus, the church and religion as a whole, I personally don't mind the last one but its the first three that really bother me and I ponder

what is man, that he thinks
it is gaeity to insult Diety?
with no knowledge of what comes
when that final curtain falls
wisdom would say you don't make friends that way
yet man raises his puny fists
shakes them at his own risk
how can you fight the Unseen?
aren't you scared you silly being?
if you can't plan your day to its very end
why tempt damnation that way?
no one's promised old age or a decent death or a bed
no one knows the time,
how , where and when so even
if you don't believe
couldn't you just resist besides,
your unbelief doesn't mean
God's not real.

Merry Christmas to all believers and Happy Holidays to those who don't, please enjoy it, you don't know, what tomorrow brings and we have the new year to look forward to. God bless us everyone!