Friday, 11 October 2013

YOUR MAJESTY…..THE QUEEN by Diaz Waitherero

Mirror, mirror on the wall did I just sleep throughout my hairdo? I hate
it when the answer is yes. All ladies ask themselves this question after a
new hairdo. If she doesn’t then she must be bald. Any hairdo should
complement your face, no doubt to that belief. Though I also think it
should also work well with your personality. No need to look like Size 8
when you are a Mwai Kibaki’s protégé. It’s socially awkward.
I have evolved from long natural hair to chemical-filled hair to the side
fringe to the front fringe and recently to weaves. According to my mum
the latter is called horse hair. She believes they make you look like you
are half a century; mind you she is also fifty so that makes me her twin.
Talk about a direct slur. I have to admit my best looks were my side
fringe and my bang. Cutting my hair was indeed worth it. Then the
weave cold was caught. That feeling you get after you are advised
against something but you do it anyway and it goes wrong. Somebody
shoot me. It’s weird that every time I say that, no one actually does.
The hitch with chemical-filled hair is that it gets growth. It really doesn’t
look pretty then after growth, it sheds like a snake shedding skin. After
a while you walk around looking like an egg with hair; it doesn’t exist.
Every lady experienced this, so men when you see good hair offer
money for better hair. Soon after the lass gets another crazy idea, that
bald is the new better. Well I agree a shave does look better than the
invisible strand hanging from the middle of your scalp. Shaves it,
applies Vaseline blue seal and wears loops. Then she thinks she looks
like Amber Rose! Ladies you wonder why you look more like Oliver than
Olivia. So the hair is chopped off or rather shed, what’s next? Let’s all do Nikki
Minaj. If you don’t have fake eyelashes and eyebrows to balance your
facial hair with the hair on your head; don’t do it. Of course no one will
listen to a person who spends a lot of time looking at animals than
actual humans. I love you Rongai. The point is; don’t wear a wig. PS; if
it’s raining, rain drops won’t be the only things falling.
I always want the best for my hair so before going all horse hair on
every one, I decided to Google. Of course there is Google in Rongai,
haters! As usual I passed out before hitting search, it’s the same way
sleeping pills are your insomnia’s enemy. I woke up early that day, a
little bit after noon just to convince myself that my hair needs a
synthetic replacement. Courage gathered, money loaned and mind lost,
I was like David and the weave was my Goliath or is it the other way
round?
It’s half past one and I am still trying to open the lock to leave. There
wasn’t anything wrong with the lock; I just felt good standing at the
gate and passing time. My other option was to jump over the wall and
break my leg so that I don’t go; it wasn’t that alluring. Finally I decided
to go to the salon. It was the fastest ride of my life; the driver went all
Usain Bolt on me. So there I was, so young and so innocent betraying
what my mother gave me. It was the death of me, literally.
“Daise, tuende tukanunue wifu ya jwele”. That’s my stylist talking, now
you see why I spent an hour opening the lock. She takes me to one of
those beauty shops that sell ‘mutura’ outside. We all say that the best
marketer is the one who uses or wears their own product. Now that is
only applicable when you actually look good in it. The shop owner
seemed to be loyal to the products she sells. Its either she had a bad
hair day or the piece of meat dangling between her teeth took all the attention. I actually paid six hundred and fifty shillings for this plastic
thing on my head.
Two-three hours of closing and opening my eyes, okay that’s a lie, I
couldn’t even move my eyeball. I was pushed and pulled all through; it
was like I left the constitution at the door. If I could take my stylist to
court she would be charged with violence, emotional damage,
mortification and currently embarrassing episodes. My new fake hair
was bigger than my head, covering half of my face and smelt like some
perfume from North Eastern. A perfect example of a tornado, it was
blowing everyone away.
I looked like I walked out of a runway which isn’t a good thing when you
are living in a reserved neighbourhood. Either way, I owned my hair,
literally. I did the pretty girl walk all the way home; I even did the girl in
the wind thing, thanks to the air conditioner in a nearby building. I
made heads turn, maize corns drop and cars hoot though I think the car
hoot was due to my selective blindness but who cares. I was the ‘it girl’
for those few moments and that was what was important.
It has now been 96 hours 40 minutes and 20 seconds without seeing
the light of day, but who is counting. I bet I will look like the sun by
tomorrow if I will not have exhausted the oxygen in the house. Despite
having episodes of hate with my new do, I love the fact that it looks the
same way all the time. I mean all the time; after sleeping, showering
and even running. It’s like having an umbrella made of stone; it never
blows away!!Cheers to all horse hair lovers.
 -waithererodaisy@gmail.com