THE GRIEF OF MY HAIR LOSS

 

THE GRIEF OF MY HAIR LOSS

by favourtells

I pleaded with my teenage younger brother, Ifeanyi, to assist me in unloosing the knotted strands of my hairdo. I was fed up as the beads of sweat on my face began to drill.

 “You might need to go back to the hairdresser to undo her handiwork”, Ifeanyi suggested, trying hard to conceal the frustration welling up in his mind, after encountering some serious difficulties with my hair.

I thought for a while and said “I do not intend to make any spontaneous expenses this weekend. The salon is quite a distance and will require some fare”.

Ifeanyi solicited the help of our youngest sibling, Uju, to hold up a torch directly to my hair, for clearer vision and speed, not minding the bulbs in my room.

In some minutes’ time, I heard a suppressed scream behind me.

‘Ouch!”

“Oh my! It hurts.” Uju, sympathized with Ifeanyi.

 

He had just cut himself mistakenly, with the razor in his hands. He was trying to loosen a really difficult strand and exerted too much pressure. I felt his pain deeply and suggested that he stopped. Surprisingly, he acted up and insisted to continue.

Finally, he finished and I was relieved of the long hours of seating on a spot.

I felt my hair while I combed. It felt different. ‘This does not feel like the weight or the length of my hair’ I thought.

 The time was fast spent so, I did not bother standing before the mirror for a view. I took my shampoo and headed to the bathroom.

Afterwards, it was time to moisturize.

My eye balls almost fell from my eye sockets, but no- streams of tears rolled down my cheeks to my jaw and chest. I was faced with the aftermath of the just concluded loosing exercise. Nope, I was not angry with my brother at all. I was not going to pose him for a sense of guilt. If there was someone to be blamed, it would be me.

A huge chunk of my hair was gone! Some parts were rooted out; some parts were lowered. This was not my hair goal for the year 2020.

I swallowed the salty spittle that exuded the walls of my mouth as I cried silently.

While I grieved the loss of my hair, my mind ran through the chaotic incidents that happened in the city of Lagos and some states in Nigeria, two months ago. Businesses, both big and small, were burnt, vandalized and looted. Many witnessed their years of hard labor and investment waste away. It was heart breaking. People grieved. People were downcast. For many, it was their only source of livelihood. And here I am, having my own share of loss.

I also remembered that in the midst of those sad occurrences, people still held up hope. The message of restoration was being spread. Helpfully, concrete measures were taken by different compassionate Nigerians, to raise funds to support those businesses. Some people decided to give their patronage as their own way of support. 

Then and there, I held some of my estranged hair and said to myself, “There will be a restoration.” I stood looking at the mirror and marked with my eyes, the areas that were rooted out on my scalp and said again “There will be a restoration.”

Beautiful people, it is a new week and you are resilient enough. Whatever you may have lost, be they big or small,-a relationship or a property; a loved one or a dear pet; a business or a wallet; a body part or a car part; an opportunity or a growing hair- like mine; say after me: THERE WILL BE A RESTORATION.