A different kind of war
By Enuma Chigbo…read more
Indeed, I sit here typing away in my living room, feeling much lighter than I was before I left home this morning. I had a huge load on my head and was determined to dump it at all costs. My major 'accessory' to this 'dumping ground' is the Royal Clip Salon, on Pleasant Hill, Duluth Georgia. Funny a few days before this day, the Lord, who has a way of placing snippets here and there, paints a little picture in my mind. I teach Sunday School in my church, Full Truth Church of God and last week, I was directed to title the teaching for that day, "Crowning Glory." Perhaps this was His way of letting me know that this interesting load, which was trying to make my head its permanent resting place would finally be exterminated.
The load in question was a weave I had sown into my hair sometime in December 2019. "How long have you had this?" Jessica my attendant asks me as she wades through this rather intriguing labyrinth. I refuse to answer, shame being the sole reason. I had met Jessica a while back. I met her for the same reason. She took out my weave and quite effortlessly too. But second time around, I was unsure of the same results for the simple reason that to the best of my understanding no one and I mean no one leaves weaves in their hair for that long. I walked into the Royal Clip Salon wondering if I would walk out with any hair at all.
"I just couldn't afford to come," I say to her quite sheepishly. It wasn't just the very reasonable fee Jessica charged me, but transporting myself from my new location Cumming and back would cost an additional fortune. But, the funds came miraculously and for this reason, I find myself on Jessica's seat.
Walking around the plaza, I find it hard to believe I once lived in this environment. Yes indeed, I did and two years later coming back to familiar terrain, I would feel like the perfect stranger. Anyway I put away this thought for a while even as I start putting sequences together - Crowning Glory- Royal Clip. In these sequences lie an untold story and it is indeed my duty to tell it.
In this place, where I would spent at least four hours of my Saturday, there was time to do a bit of observation. The place is squeaky clean. I particularly like the stain free dark brown wooden floors, a nice contrast to white walls and black leather swivel chairs. Some of the swivel chairs are white and my guess is that the white chairs are strictly for those who come in for a haircut. As for me, I would have a good time on my black swivel chair. There is another chair that sits much taller than the rest. It's a taupe leather chair where you can get a nice regal pedicure.
"Do you mind if other people help out with your hair?" Jessica asks me. Actually, she did not ask that Saturday. She asked this question the day before when she called me to reconfirm my appointment slated for that wonderful Saturday. Of course my response was in the affirmative but behind that response was a cheeky grin and silent thought on my part. "If this lady had x-ray lenses she would not be asking me that question!
Anyway, Jessica embarks on the arduous task and the conversations begin. I would learn that she is Vietnamese and has lived in the United States for about 15 years, which makes me more like a newcomer. In my home country Nigeria, the nickname given in this regard in JJC, which means Johnny Just Come and please don't ask where this came from!
For the very first time, I am excited about taking selfies. Before and after pictures of this 'historic' event would definitely be apt. Two ladies come in and join Jessica and somehow the picture in my mind as per the 'before' state changes from that of a labyrinth to a farm, maybe in my home country Nigeria. Perhaps the unprecedented dirt adorning the salon's black cape provided to protect my clothes may have had a whole lot to do with this. Looking at the thickness of this beach sand like dirt all did remind me of that and then my thoughts deepened even further, I began to imagine the harvesting the yam tuber, a staple crop in that part of the world. It carries a whole lot of the dirt from the ground in which it's harvested. In total shame I watched and then from the corner of my eye I watched the facial expressions of the ladies, looking for signs that betrayed contempt or disgust but I found none. For some reason, they seemed more interested in getting the job done. Somehow my eyes were drawn to the writing on the painting hanging pretty on the salon walls. The words promote silence and denounce idle chatter.
In about two hours, my hair is free from all entanglements. I look at the floor and see what came out, which to my mind is enough for the full head of hair of another. To think some Asian women make tons of money this way...
Jessica asks me virtually all the time if I am doing okay and that gesture makes me feel well at home.
To be continued.
