Encounters of the Afro Puff kind - By Cabella

One Sunday I left home early enough to actually wait for service to start. It was a new experience for me and I was not quite sure where to look while I waited for service. I looked up, I looked around me, and I even looked at my phone hoping that someone would call. Gosh! I did not realize that waiting could cause such anxiety.

As I waited, a lady approached me and asked where I got my afro puff from. Since I was in church, I felt the strong urge to say “From the throne of heaven” but refrained. So I smiled appreciatively and said “It is my hair”.

“Ehen!” she exclaimed victoriously.

“I was debating within me whether the puff was your real hair or fake.” She said as she sat down beside me.

She continued “Wow! It is sooooooo shiny...” she drooled.

My head was expanding big time. I batted my eyelids subtly and replied “Thank you.” Head still swelling.

“Me, I cannot go natural o. My hair is too tough” she said as a matter of fact.

“Eya sorry.” I responded. She nodded in appreciation.

You see, a long time ago I would have gone into the lecture of how her hair is probably not as tough as she thinks and with the right products and techniques she would be able to achieve healthy, long and shiny hair.

Digression: For those who know Omozo, that lecture is exactly what she would have given the lady! (Wink)

“Can I touch it?” she asked positioning herself and leaning closer to me.

“Touch what?” I asked. As if I did not know!

“Your hair. Your puff. Can I touch it?” This time she was facing me her right hand lifting up slowly.

“I beg your pardon?” I retorted.

I wanted to be sure what she was asking because what I heard was this: “Can I poke your puff and pull it a bit too and ruin the shape you so laboriously worked on before coming to church this morning? Can I please?” I swear that is what I heard!

‘Emm … No, you may not touch my hair” I responded as politely as I could and with a smile too.

She looked kind of shocked.

“You mean I cannot touch your hair?” she asked.

“In other words,” I began “you cannot touch my hair”. I started to adjust my posture, turning my body away from her and facing the front of the room.

“Ah na wa oh!” the lady exclaimed as she got up slowly to leave. She looked at me incredulously.

I suspected she was about to say something more so I leaped up, shook her hand enthusiastically and with a big smile said “Thank you so so much for stopping by and for the kind compliments about my hair. Have a nice service and God bless you!”

Cabella