…and the snow arrived. Touched warm coco coverings, melted and slid down cheeky crevices. I miss my enigmatic fro-queen and the days we would eat snow together…with a spoon!
Song: ‘Banmidele’ Asa
Today, parts of the earth have been decorated with white frosting. Thus Heathrow cancelled a third of scheduled flights and Algerians shovelled snow off their roofs to prevent them from caving in. A woman in Kabul struggles to carry water through the snow to her home; whilst my foundation year one partner slips and slides on the icy black driving home after an on call. Syrians continue to kill each other.
Silently…tucked away in the mountainous highlands near Ballanter, Scotland, my friend lays. He is camping with a big bon fire. The sky is so clear that the full moon scatters moonlight on the snow like daylight.
“Black women and hair. I think there’s something there. Tales and stories in every strand. Be it real or fake. It’s tangled into a state; of reflection of its owners plate. Oily, dry, Afro, weaves or plaits. Be it getting ready for work, self expression or a date. Hair! Black hair. The metamorphosis every day depending on rain, shine or snow…it always shows, whether the coils compress or expand accordingly. It’s a show. Only those keen to see will be revealed the secrets deep within those dark black forests.”
Hair relaxed; under the steamer; women’s loud hearty laughter downstairs; mixed raced child bouncing off the wall to the boom boom pow from the radio…discussion points, ‘Put a ring on it’, ‘Amy Winehouse’, ‘Good housekeeping’…bye bye fro-b. Quote of the day: Black hairdresser,”Excuse me, I just have to quickly go spend a penny”. Anyway hands down, no matter where in the world you are, Ghanaians don’t play games with hair.