That year I could be found corn rows on almost everyone with hair long enough for me to practice with.
Ma Es (what I call my mom – comes from her name Esther ) gifts me a mannequin with hair so long it touches its legs. This was meant to help me practice my cornrows and braids with the help of my sister in- law who happened to know some styling.
A few months in and I’m exhausted; at this point everyone at home gets the feel of my aching hands.
Out of laziness, I think to myself “why can’t I just make my own wig and save myself the stress of undergoing the torture and heat. Besides I think my braiding is good now, I can start learning something new” – That was the beginning of my transition.
This is the right time to mention the embassy wouldn’t let me travel for reasons best understood by them, talk of crushing a girl’s dreams after all her braiding lessons *sigh*.
In the quest to pursue my wig making pleasures, the mannequin had to do the big chop because a girl needed a flat surface to work with. You are probably thinking why I didn’t cut off t some of its hair and cornrow the rest right?. Well at the time the only ideal solution I could come up with was a mighty chop.
It’s generally easier to judge a situation from an observer’s perspective or maybe I’m trying to justify my actions lol. Either way, I got what I wanted, a bald mannequin head to practice my wig making on.
Ma Es discovers what happened to the mannequin and it rains typical african mom rants for weeks. At this point every slight thing I do or anyone says relating to hair results in a reminder of my treacherous act. In her words “madam you cut off its hair, something I bought with my money. You should have bought yours and cut off its hair!” said with rolling eyes
Long overdue tip
In an African home, you can’t
mess with your parents money, you will be tortured with the memory for years. And then when you have kids of your own and complain about them, your behavior back then will be used as reference.
Using one of my human hair weave ons, I decide to turn it into a wig – mind you without any form of closure. It wasn’t very good yet totally wearable but guess who rocked it for weeks? Ma Es!
The rants had taken a downturn and I became the wig plug of the house though with a non existent experience.
The Joy: Parents will always yell and go on and on when you take a decision and start off by doing something unexpected. That comes from a place of love because they will always have our back and are the greatest support system.
A few years later I do the big chop myself and Ma Es is ecstatic “you spend so much on hair anyways”. From wearing out my TWA to exhaustion, again I consider just making my own big Afro. I mean who doesn’t love a good fro right?
And like that I dived into Afro making. Started off with me just making one for myself; got so many compliments along the way coupled with requests to make for a few friends and here we are.
Sometimes I take myself by surprise with my versatility. Afro love birthed other hair dos like ponytails and clip ins. Never have I
ever thought I’ll be a pony lover.
Not looked back since then – just a girl living out her hair fantasies while trying to help others live theirs. It’s actually gratifying being able to come through for others with similar hair fantasies.
Thanks for reading loves, until next time
The only way to do great work is to love what you do.
Hope this motivates someone to make something out of a passion of his/hers. There is so much more we can accomplish if we dedicate time to doing what we actually love.