A HAIR CUT…A FEEL OF HOME….

June 26 2010..P.M

As I type this I'm still relishing the miracle of water…it cures in many ways than one…yes I just drank a cold glass of water that did more than quench my thirst (that was bordering on dehydration from a jog through the Namibian Desert )it almost healed my soul! And it helped wash off the sweat that had formed a slimy layer dirt on my skin that seemed to be almost clawing at my insides sef! The sun was not smiling!not forgetting the speckles of spiky hair that didn’t make it off my skin from the barbers and all the oil and random hair products that had formed a semi BP oil spill on my forehead. Yes in summary I had a cold shower…the summer is here and Paris is pretty hot!!!!!

I'm sure you’re wondering why a hair cut would help me feel home…I mean it’s a blade scraping the excess hair that has grown thru my scalp and just my desire to look extra hot…”so why the feel of home”? Here it goes


Yesterday I had decided to cut my hair but I randomly decided to go swimming instead and cut my hair after my practical class today. So after my class today I get on the bus and go on a seemingly everlasting ride to the ghetto zones…if you are a regular reader you would know about my Chateau Rouge stories….well this time I decided to go to another part of the ghetto—Chateau D’Eau similar name but slightly different place…this area is like hair making Headquarters…every black weave, hair product you shall find here. In fact there are Hair Hustlers…Hair Hustlers are guys whose primary jobs are to strategically place themselves at the exits/entrances of the metro to harass women if they want to do their hair or If they want to buy weaves, make up, dresses and so on…but basically hair and with each customer they get a certain cut aka/commission. Pause. “kai! Black people we are the same all over the world sha! The same thing that happens in Yaba/Tejuosho, the Projects in Brooklyn, Brixton---Peckham in London now Paris Strasbourg…it’s so funny…the hustle is the same everywhere…on one hand it breaks my heart but on another hand I can’t blame them….the hustle is better here than the level of lives they live back…where ever home is…and I mean hair has to be made… I mean I can’t walk into Provost or any other normal salon to get my hair cut…it would be a waste of 26 Euros!


Anyways before I over digress…I stop and randomly start walking to find where I could get a haircut as it was mostly salons for just women so as I walk past one bar I decide to follow the turn it led to and voila! I see salons that did both male and female hair. Before I go further…let try and build the ghetto scene my eyes beheld I navigated through the calm mayhem. At the corner was a woman with her horrendous weave, scarlet red lips sticks on lips that were larger than life, with her carefully bleached skin hustling some less-than-palatable costume jewelry,. Then to her left she had her nemesis…her extreme-complete opposite… some robust woman with her weave that looked like Beyonce's mane.. she too was hustling some sun shades and some “I-must-wear-bling-bling” jewelry moving on there was just an endless array of boys and young me who were either hustling hair deals with females passing by or just hanging with cigarettes or weed and like the girls everybody is ghetto fabulous dressed out…the ones that were sporting the hip hop look dem dey..their hats, baggy shorts that sat on their thighs, then the ones sporting the new age European fashion…tight jeans, tank top…ice on their ears, extra colourful sneakers and shoes….then the girls…shorts with piercings on every angle of their face and their gum pooping like bomb blasts, unnecessary colour combination of weave colours…oh well I'm sure you get the point….
but I felt at home…I was somewhere I was instantly identified with..even if we were not all Nigerians…I felt at home…


So as I pass some salons that said they would collect 14 Euros, I hiss in my mind and look for a 10 euro deal…and since these hair hustlers are pros and highly experienced in this game…one just picks the “google.com” looks in had on my face ”now searching for a 10-euro-deal” and I was going to speak French to him first but I asked him in pidgin “how mush to cut hair?” “10 euro” he replies but I could tell that he was French or some other origin but oh well we were agreeing on something…10 Euros to cut my hair!…so I follow him into the salon….
The salon was just like what you see in your hood…(and not like Victoria Island Nail Studio etc…or Bobbys…no….just like Mama Justina, elegant Twins... Rose Hair Salon…we wash and set and specialize in all types of design…”) bursting at the seams with endless women under dryers, the smell of shampoo and relaxer, hair all over the floor, the workers dressed as they liked, endless chatter from women, then boys to men all waiting patiently for their turn, then the barbers talking random talk...yes beautiful mayhem…everyone looked like I could holler in Yoruba or pidgin but…Africa is not Nigeria….wow see irony…so alike yet so different!


As I walked in, luckily there was a free space…then the barber spoke to me in English but he was semi speaking phonee …in my mind I was wondering why?” Was my face so extra butter!” I didn’t want to get my hopes up he was Naija…but eventually he asked where I was from with a look and an attitude that said “why are you asking an obvious question” I replied…”Naija now” “ah we are all Nigeria” (please note I wrote Nigeria and not Nigerian…that’s how he said it) then the awkward barber and customer conversation started… what I was doing in Paris etc…out of fear that he may just rob me of my identity all I told him where lies…I had to protect myself small ke… before I would miss in this Paris… but still we chatted and talked about where we lived in Nigeria, how me miss home and the hustle in a foreign land...let me point out he was Ibo and his name was Jude. From what we discussed he has been round Europe a lot…he just got into Paris recently…and haircutting for now is the hustle…


While I was getting my hair manicured (yes because he was cutting it with so much care as he felt like he was hooking his brother up…I was not complaining) I could not help but marvel at the happenings at the salons…kai!! One old woman came and was selling plantain chips, those women from earlier with their excuses for costumes jewelry came and hustled their stuff too…the salon was alive with all the women getting their weave sewn, hair relaxed, excessive chatting, loud hollering across the room, then a few young boys where getting their hair dyed…that reminded me of NEXT in Yaba...and in the same vein you would see how these boys where desperate to look so ghetto fabulous..i mean the dye looked like coal tar in its freshest from in their surgically shaped scalps!

Please lest I forget….there was even Rhapsody of Realties in the store and I could help but shout! “AHAN!!! PASTOR CHRIS DON RISH HERE TOO?!!!” “Yes o!!! all the church whey dey Nigeria dey here to o!” he replied my shock with a look of normality and that said “so you don’t know??” at first I was excited in my mind to go and try out one of the churches but…I considered my darling Hillsong…I calmed down….so yes Naija we no dey carry last!!! Trust our Churches!! And without doubt Redeemed is here!!!


Anyways after much plastering of oils, shaping, trimming different hairsprays, my haircut is over. I didn’t feel so bad to part with my 10 Euros…I looked good…
As I walked towards the bus stop it started to hit me..even me in the ghetto made me feel at home…there was someone I could relate to…people that understood me without needing to adjust anything….even in the heat of the salon I felt the touch of NEPA/PHCN, I felt everyone’s desire for a better life…yes it’s ironic…this a zone I probably wouldn’t identify with back home sef...but…my standard has been humbled! I almost asked for where I could get “mama put” rice sef but I thought that would be pushing it and maybe next time…


All in all, I have where for sure I can get a good hair cut and get a touch of home…even if it’s not the coziness of my room, the wheels of my KIA, the taste of my Mum’s Jollof Rice, the trips to the Island (SilverBird ,Ikoyi ,Lekki etc…) it’s a Nigerian dude cutting my hair, we can speak pidgin,I can be entertained by the antics of hood hustling….that is enough for me…for now…at least…


Please note I'm not in a well of despair and terminal depression….i’m only realizing I have a great life back home I miss…but I would get by…others have done it… why can’t I?
So to all my family and friends I love you to bits….you have no idea….I now know your value….but this is the price I have to pay for the greater destiny ahead!....see you guys at the top!


A Bientot!