Bless me, father, for I have sinned. I would like for us to begin with honesty. Let’s not deceive ourselves. So, here’s my confession.

10 out of 10 days, my hair is a mess. I kid you not. I just like to carry it that way. But even though, guy. Even though. Is that why y’all will choose to act like the weapons fashioned against me?

Now, imagine these reactions.

All the food you eat goes to your hair. It’s sucking your blood.

I give it to Nigerian mothers, them sabi come up with theories. Newton’s got nothing on them. I call this Mama’s Second Law of Hairology. Here’s where the genius lies; she carry her own hair o, but e no de suck her blood. Na only my own de suck.

Bia, this woman, if you want to yab me for being thin (looking like a mopstick with my aftro), come out clean. Say it with the full chest that God blessed you with.

I like your hair (Reaching to touch it)

Come, is that how they do in your village? It might sound like I have a vendetta against women at this point, but f*ck it. We’re being brutally honest. Na still ladies do this one pass.

See bah, I have no issues with you liking my hair. The issue be say you de try touch am. If everybody was just fondling the hair at will, shey e for still remain for you to like?

Moreover, there are a few things I like in your body as well, but you don’t see me reaching out to fondle them. Let’s be cordial, please.

Let me braid it for you

Sounds like an innocent, generous offer, right? Ah, Chinwe, thank you o. Come and help me braid it. Then, she starts shinning eyes like witches and wizards.

Turns out she never planned to help me do anything. That was her telling me that my hair is overgrown for a guy, with a touch of sarcasm.

E no even pain me sef. But Chinwe, have you considered doing squats like 23 hours each day? in other words, your nyash never still come out. First to do no de pain.

Cut for me nau

Bia Precious, I have warned you to avoid me with your babalawo activities. Me and my household have chosen to serve the living God. Go and try someone else. Tell them you did not see me.

My hair na soap wey I go cut for you nau, abi? Na black piece of cake I carry for head. I come against you, Precious.

De find who you go lock inside 7Up bottle.

I know things are difficult but…

Nwaamaka, it is you that things will be difficult for. You don turn mental health activist for my head. Na me carry hair but na you e de heavy. No be juju be that? Did I beg you for help?

Asking me if things are okay at home. It is your own home, Nwaamaka, that is not okay. Ah, I don suffer, no be small.

No be say things no difficult true true, but even though. Ask for account details. Drop something. Your teeth will not turn dark brown. Your height will not reduce to 4ft. Instead, na counseling you wan de give me. Na that counseling go shrink you to 3ft 9in.

written by Di MadWriter

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