seat of the soul

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and can’t seem to bring closure to the topic. I wanted to write more, but cannot seem to complete my thoughts or answers my questions. There is no closure, but an ongoing contentious discussion and contemplation, especially for me., so I decided to leave it as is- incomplete and unending, because let’s face it this conversation is never ending.

I’m sitting in a nondenominational community church in Midwest, USA, looking unto a stage chalk full of people who recently returned from a charitable trip to Kenya. My first simultaneous observation- they are all mostly white | there is not a single black person on this team. My ensuing thoughts are not unfamiliar to me as I’m sitting next to my two brothers who, at different points in time, have been victims of discrimination in the US, but that’s for another time.

Why is it that most of the time it is white people who, with collective will, raise the funds to venture into a foreign land to aid ‘the less privilege’. Most churches I know who send people overseas are whites. Most families I know who adopt children are white. Maybe the common denominator is ‘people I know’. Maybe good people who do good things for people outside of their own imminent circles surround me, and they just happen to be white? Is that it?! 

Maybe the pithy difference in approach with the various cultures boils down to values. To reach outside of your own imminent circle is maybe to have attained need of belongingness and love in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, a reach from attaining your basic needs. I recently read a book called The Seat of the Soul by Gary Zukav recommended by my good friend, OKE, and it’s highly spiritual, intended to call people to transcend the five senses, becoming multisensory humans cognizant of the spirit realm. He brings awareness to the progression of human consciousness. If you're interested in that kind of stuff, I also recommend. The author and scientist posits that positive energy, usually exemplified by a loving action towards others, is the epitome of what it means to attain the highest version of one’s self. Well, I’m way oversimplifying the complex arrangement of progressive thoughts he intentionally put together, but please oblige my simplification for the sake of compounding my dilemma with this issue. 

If Maslow is correct, then I have to have food in my belly before I can love and give love. Zukav says to what you put out, it returns to you, so regardless of what’s happening in life, put out good. 

Are these aforementioned whites in this church community progressing in human consciousness faster than the blacks around me simply by going out into the world and putting out good? Is it that whites who are comfortable and have met their basic needs are more conscious of others' needs around them, even extending cross continental? I don’t believe so, because good cannot and should not be measured by distance, but heart, intent, motive. So maybe I'm looking at this all wrong? Maybe it's society applauds those efforts more or that I want us blacks to do more!!! Oh I don’t know. 

I do know one thing- this principle of reaping what you sow (karma) is a natural law, one that is defied by the reality of a verse in the Bible that says, in paraphrase, 'you'll reap the good of what you do not sow' because Jesus is just THAT good. I like this very much because it pushes the bounds of my natural limitation and truly transcends to spiritual heights that we as people aren't meant to attain. This is a beautiful law at work, all because- Jesus allows and promotes it. I believe when we truly understand this liberty, it compels us to actually put forth more good

NAIJA MEN 1

I managed to write about all things but men in the past year, and deliberately so.  This topic deserves an entire book dedicated to it, so maybe this can serve as the beginning chapter. Naija is the nickname for Nigeria or its people. ‘Naija men’, a title given to dudes who hail from Nigeria that also elicits several varied responses and convoluted emotions, particularly from women. I hear phrases like:

Naija men no dey change o

All of them are the same

Naija men are very persistent; when you tell them NO, they hear ‘try harder’ thinking I’m playing hard to get

Where do I start with my experiences with naija men? They are extremely stylish, witty, charming and just make a lady wanna laugh with their comments. My mind is chalked full of memories of pick up lines, pursuits, endless waves of phone calls, persistence, persistence, hustlers, gentlemen, persistence, charmers, persistence, sweet talkers, and ‘by-force’ guys. When they see women with attractive features, whether in desirable height, shape or pure beauty, they go coocoo, and they ain’t afraid to make that known. The axiomatic truth is that Naija men give their hearts away all too quickly and easily. It’s unfathomable for me to conceive of seeing someone without having spoken a word to him, and just knowing that he’s very ok for me, even to the point of discussing marriage right there in all seriousness, but such is their case, proven time and again.

Just the other day I’m walking down the street obviously looking like I’m on mission to get somewhere and a man stops me.

Man: Excuse me, please I don’t mean to disturb you. Frances already knows where this is going. You can tell by that hazy look in their eyes. I am coming from Abuja and our car broke down. Thankfully we had a friend in Asaba, so we brought the car here and they’re repairing it now. I don’t know anyone in this town and just wanting to make a new friend, so can I have your number so I can be calling you and know that I have a friend here.

Me: But you just said you had a friend here and now you’re saying you know no one.. but that isn’t what came out of my mouth. But sir, clearly you see I don’t have your time because I already know you and I wont work at all. I’m not in the least bit attracted to you, you’re not my kinda guy. I don’t just give out my number and you’re definitely not getting it from me because you’ll be calling calling trying to cajole me into having something to do with you and then I’ll be avoiding your calls which will make you even more persistent, and I just cannot handle that annoyance. I really don’t wanna be having this conversation right now, so if you would excuse me while I jolly on. But I didn’t say that. Instead- Sir, I don’t give out my number and actually have somewhere to be right now.

Man: I won’t be disturbing you, just call every once in a while to say hi.

Me: You know, my guy doesn’t like me giving out my number anyhow.

I have tried different ways to dissuade them, and this line has worked 30% in the past (though a small lie), but then again you get the ensuing line..

Man: Well are you married? If I had someone like you in the house I wouldn’t let her leave the house or out of my sight. What’s your guy waiting for?

Me: (inner thought-Yeah!!! Good question. Then it dawns on me that I’m the one telling them ‘no’). Well, thank you for the compliment, but I am not interested.

Man: Ok, I respect that. Thank you

Sometimes the 'my guy wont like this' response is followed by, 'well you can still have a friend, there's nothing wrong with that. We allllll know friendship aint what you want, alright so just back off dude.

This episode ended on a good note. He only persisted twice after the No(s) and thanked me. Confounded by the typical male female relational dynamic in this land, I’ve questioned how to respectfully say no to onlookers and chasers, and maneuvered my way out of unsolicited pursuits. To dodge a naija dude takes mastery, and it is as if I’m making my way in obtaining my black belt in this art. Some have literally begged and to them I simply want to say ‘shame on you. Why would you make yourself so low that you’re nearly on your knees b.e.g.g.i.n.g. just for my number. Please stop. This is embarrassing for you’. I mean…seriously?!?!

More to come on this men series. Plenty more, I tell you.

the people, the problem

Yesterday I was at a fast food joint with a friend, Dr. Dickson, a well-educated Nigerian-Brit. Our intent for meeting was to catch up and discuss some of his projects but we spent most of our time deliberating Nigerian affairs. We hit on oil pipes vandalism, shared sentiments towards the former coordinating Minister/Minister of Finance, Dr. Okonjo-Iweala, the rapid aging and weariness of our current President Buhari, the Delta state governor and his conservative habits in sharing money, and the crucial need for state governments to generate their own interval revenue. We also centered on the Nigerian mindset, a hot topic among Nigerian diaspora everywhere. Quite an inciting conversation actually. 

I brought up an observation from the past year of life here- there’s a general acceptance of subjugation by those who senior you, or elders. If you look at the church structure, the reverend Father, priest, Pastor or Bishop gives instructions and you’re obliged to follow it. What is, infact, an obligation is translated to obedience to God; thereby restricting any form of rebellion. When the father of the house speaks, everybody shuts up including the woman, because whatever he says you must all do. When a man becomes the head of the house after marrying a woman, he’s boss in public, though all know that the woman runs the house, and like my father says, she’s the neck and the neck has the power to turn the head whichever way it pleases. When at the office you practically bow down to the ‘oga’, the boss, and subject yourself to any and every errand on which they send you, and you must be outta your mind to question him, and on rare occasions, ‘her- the madam.’ I think this mentality permeates the entire black African culture, from east to west. Given this deeply ingrained hierarchical system, I had an epiphany once upon a time- If the head is correct and applies the appropriate degree of force, they can pacify the entire body and move it any which way they desire. So does this mean that if the leaders of this country get it together, all of Nigeria will succumb on goodwill?! Somehow I doubt this, but live with a glimmer of hope that it is actually quite plausible. My doubt comes when I think of our own people and how our, at times, serious mischief causes pernicious results. It was as if the moral fabric of our existence as a country took on a precipitous decline and now it may take a generation to rectify the convolution. Reminds me of a case study on a Latin American country where the innovative mayor won the election on the stance of changing corruption. After recommendations by ‘experts’, he made a strenuous effort to implement them, only to incur an affront by the every people he tried to help. Let’s just say he was voted out by the next election cycle. See, it’s not only in Africa that such scenarios transpire:)

I’d say Dickson and I agreed that when someone wants to bring about effective, positive change especially in politics, the people reject the person contemptuously. We are messing up our own selves and our status quo should be attributed to poor self leadership first and foremost, then to leaders. Many have disagreed with this ideology, and rightfully so, while many have gisted the same gist time and again, and in the words of Professor Charles X: “Countless choices define our fate: each choice, each moment, a moment in the ripple of time. Enough ripple, and you change the tide... for the future is never truly set.”

Now back to work..

twas foretold

KUMASI, GHANA 

From our understanding, parents in northern Ghana send their daughters south to find jobs due to drought, while others end up in Kumasi in an attempt to escape early marriages and teen pregnancies. They born babies and those babies grow up emulating their mothers’ destiny- trade & little to no education. It is axiomatic that this status quo will inevitably produce a stunted generation in Ghana’s future leaders.

 

Dr. Moore & his new girlfriends

Our Blessing O. Foundation (BOF) team in Kumasi is simply outstanding. Every week they go into these communities where young ladies congregate after a strenuous day’s work of carrying loads on their head from the market to people’s cars. Just to find a place to lay their heads to rest, they rent space from a landlord by paying 2 Ghana CDs per night, approx. 53 cents, about $16dollars/month, $189/year. This space is scanty and primarily consists of wooden boards for beds. Now imagine this- you made just enough that day to feed yourself once, so in dejection you come back only to be confronted by a large male demanding rent. You’re desperate and in a frazzle go asking to borrow money from your neighbors, who are leery in giving you a hand out because this isn’t your first or seventh time in asking. Out of sheer desperation you succumb to his alternative plan- sex as payment. After the 4^th intercourse, you not only conceive your child, but also contract a sexually transmitted disease. There are no ways around circumventing this vicious cycle. All are in despondency, except for one large male. 

A visit to the Muslim community of young ladies

During one of his lectures, Dr. Moore illustrated emotional trauma by using this metaphor- you get into an accident and discover that multiple parts of your body were impacted because they are internally connected: your lungs punctured, bones broken, ligaments torn and so on. The girls will end up fearing men, bodies physically worn out from the long hours standing and carrying heavy objects, normalizing suffering, acting out by abusing others more subservient to them, the list goes on and on. The severity of trauma cannot be mitigated by placing well-intended bandages and calling that a solution. The situation demands full attention. And I’m tired of Africans using the gift of our innate resilience as an answer to what to do when these things happen, especially to young ones. We mustn’t always suffer and smile, thank you Fela. 

Ministering at a local Ghanaian church. he brought a powerful word that day

The crew; our diligent GH coordinator- far right

After meeting with high-level government officials and other NGOs, one thing is clear- all stakeholders are overwhelmed by the situation at hand, and only present partial solutions, most of which are short term and in-comprehensive, except for Matilda, a solo Ghanaian NGO superstar with extensive research, who presented viable long-term solutions.

Press conf at the inaugural ceremony; President with our fabulous GH team

Mama Theresa- Our incredible cook. It was love at first taste

The presence and expertise of our stellar Program Design consultant, Dr. Moore, proved to be a backbone not only for this trip, but also for subsequent ones to come. Credibility is important when establishing an organization in a new context, especially in a country not of your own. When interviewed by the press, Dr. Moore readily backed up BOF’s agenda and strategy, and in that moment I felt the securing of our work there in Ghana. 

BOF President thanking God

So, where do we go from here?

Junction of the unknown

FESTAC, LAGOS

I visited Lagos yesterday...the mainland. Life on the fast track is a stark contrast from the town I have spent the past year. Walking around with my tallest uncle, we reminisced about my childhood and nostalgia came full force as we passed my childhood road in Festac, off 72^nd road. The flats, shops & mosque at the junction suddenly looked so small compared to the gigantic structures I once remember as a little girl. Lagos! The place to be. Festac is part of this great big city that displays a glimpse of the beauty of urban planning. The sideways are wide and passerby of all shapes, sized, social economic status buzz by. Strapping young men just leaving midweek services from various churches around the corner. Middle aged men sitting under trees enjoying the evening breeze and drinking beer. Women closing shops and heading home to prepare for another round of work- house chores & tending to the family (A woman’s job is never finished). Observers politely staring as each set wander by. The ambiance of this neighborhood elicits a feeling of ‘I’m doing something with my life’. Purposes of all dimension perfumes the evening, and this observation having just rounded up my one year National Youth service. Life is sweet at this junction of the unknown.

Day I moved to Nigeria

One year later

KUMASI, GHANA

This evening I take off for Kumasi, Ghana, an uncharted territory for me. There I will spend one week with the Blessing O Foundation Int’l team, along with an expert child trauma psychologist assessing the situation on ground on girl child issues. There are about a 100 girls in Kumasi, Ghana, mostly Muslims ranging from 10-20years old. Some were married off and later abandoned while others were promised marriage and when impregnated, were discarded or ran away. They have been sexually molested and now live on the streets, some with children, and continue to be victims of sexual abuse. Ghanaians have invited us in and we have commenced dialogue with the government on adequate measure to mitigate the situation. We aim to coalesce with community stakeholders, including other NGOs, individuals and government officials making a concerted effort in assessing a way forward.
 

Stay tuned for the next post on Kumasi. 

 

The Elephant Africa

Today I will allow my newly found companion, along with his wit, Chinweizu, share some of his insights with us through his book, The West and the Rest of Us, then I’ll enter into dialogue with him, and encourage you to as well.

Chinweizu posits that western agenda, propagated into our African system through the big rigs like USAID, World Bank and concepts like foreign aid & Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) are disguised clothes for imperialism, also termed as neocolonialism. Furthermore he says, “For black Africa to constitute on such powerful and autonomous unit, what Africa needs to do is to create a highly productive and autonomous economy, one responsive to the needs of and under the thorough control of, the people of Africa”.

As I read part of his book, Condoleezza Rice flashed through my mind. I remember her emphatically saying that U.S. agenda must be pushed in the world, or else there’ll be void of leadership and Vladamir Putin or subsequent Russian leadership would inevitably fill the void and no country can afford that. Her definition of U.S. leadership entails not exclusively policing the world, but taking the lead on building collaborative efforts towards dire situations across the globe. The greatest power diplomacy has is sitting across from someone, looking them dead in the eye as you seek compliance and ultimately place them in subjugation to your agenda. With your all-powerful military force sitting behind you with unspoken promise of violence, they answer the question, ‘or else’. Diplomacy at its finest, I suppose. This is the same woman who later confessed that there is no sure thing as the international community; rather the world is comprised of individual countries with intention to propagate their agenda. I must interject here by saying that the U.S. by no means hides its intentions. These realities and confined truths are explicitly drafted in the National Security Act. Is this a negative thing? Truthfully I am unsure. Chinweizu would say, U.S. stay the hell away from African affairs and especially its political and economical endeavors. I say, anyone is ‘free’ to push an agenda, and those upon whom it’s pushed are also ‘free’ to say, NO flippin’ way OR ok but we have comparative advantage so you do things on our terms. Chinweizu, I’m not so sure the problem is neocolonialism rather Africa’s inability to say no to stipulations put against them, stipulations which are costly on our finances, human capital and most especially senses. I think if we cower down before the big guys and say yes sah yes sah, do we expect a different result? I mean, seriously! One man’s definition of insanity is doing the same thing time and again and expecting a different result.

When I spent a summer in the beautiful hillside of Kigali Rwanda, my fierce female students said President Kagame should occupy his residential seat beyond his constitutionally appropriated terms, because Rwanda still needed him. But this goes against all things democratic, doesn’t it? I refuted their point of view by saying it was imperative he stepped down, because as a father of the freshly renewed nation, the onus was on him to properly groom his children (people of Rwanda) to take his place, because one can put to flight a thousand, but two ten thousand. In other words there’s only so much Kagame can do for Rwanda, and the next generation should stand on his shoulders to further their investments. Recently he has declared that if the people want him to stay, the West should stay out of their business and let Africans deal with Africa’s business. Maybe he’s right, maybe it’s an excuse. Either way, he seems to be doing something good for his people to love him so.

So, what am I saying through all this?

Story time- when a baby elephant was born, it was tied to a tree, and whenever the elephant wanted to freely roam, it encountered the restriction of the length of the rope, so it wandered nowhere unable to overpower the strength of the tree. This elephant grew into a mature one and beyond comprehension stayed within the boundaries the length of the rope offered. Little did it know that it had acquired massive strength over time, and without exerting much effort, could pull down that tree in no time and freely wander and actually be an elephant.

Bottom line is there will always be implications for power dynamics in this world. Beyond money, the rich also possess power to oppress the oppressable. At some point the oppressable may one day wake up and realize that it has always been an elephant. Africa, WAKE UP OOOOO.

kill or suffer

I woke up twice last night to sweating and mosquito bites, and this isn’t the first time. When it happens my routine is to get on whatsapp and chat with my family back in the States because they’re usually awake during my night hours. Once I chimed in on the conversation and they were surprised asking, ‘what are you doing up’? They’re met with my response, ‘Mosquitoes and I’m sweating’. It has become the family joke and now one of my younger brothers is even more convinced that Nigeria isn’t for him. He left the country at age 9, and came to visit when in his 20s. He’s spoiled by the usual American AC life. When I suggest he consider moving back, his repetitive response is a reminder that the last time he visited he suffered constant perspiration, ‘Na man! Even when you take showers mid day, you still come out sweating’. Well Frank, maybe you should lose some of your muscles because that would help. Perhaps that’s why men I see here are usually slender. It’s called Adaptation. The heavier you are (muscles or fat), the more uncomfortable you will be without AC. Don’t get me wrong, Houston and Waco Texas can be smokin’ hot in the summers. What mitigates the discomfort is the access to Air Conditioning. Lord, I need one of those right now. Wait, I have one in my room, but no light, and it’s surely cost inefficient to run the generator all night long, although as I type this at 5am, I hear my neighbors doing just that. With fuel scarcity, long queues to buy at already jacked up prices, impatient Nigerians who wanna jump the cue because they know someone who knows someone who works at the fueling station, who wants to bear the brunt of that movement? 

Enjoyment here during the hot days and nights is to have light in the middle of the night, turn on your AC AND fan and sleep blissfully. It has been weeks I tasted of this privilege, and my hope for my country is that one day all people will move from perceiving this as enjoyment to become everyday necessity. They say Africa is the darkness continent, producing significantly less power supply than our counterparts. And God said, ‘LET THERE BE LIGHT’. We don’t need to wait for God to cure our ills in this land. He already established things, as they should be. It’s left for man to take substance and make tangible realities. So, where do we start because it’s now 5:18am and the chickens are already crowing and this woman isn’t ready to face the challenges of the day because she’s been up for over an hour and a half doing research and trying to find mosquitoes to kill. She has resorted to just cursing death upon them. Yes, it has come to that. No wonder men and women all over this town sometimes look angry and any little irritant leads them to shout and even engage in fist fights. It’s because they’ve been suffering heat at night and heat in the day, and most without access to Air conditioned offices, especially manual labourers and keke and taxi drivers. Those are the most hostile one I come across. No wonder! I leave you with this- I once heard a Nigerian comedian say, ‘how can you expect a man to be cool-headed when he’s out in the sun all day. Give him AC and it’ll cool off his head and that man will become a different person”. This comedian is on to something.

first yoruba wedding

Last weekend I attended my first Yoruba wedding (to my recollection) in Nigeria’s ancient Yoruba city named Ibadan, a land where the whites were very much present back in the day. I was there about 48 hours and hardly saw anything substantial enough to give an accurate observation, so the ensuing words are mostly a ‘first glimpse’ experience. I hope to visit this city again to see the sites and really talk to the people. The city was truly ancient, and now I wish I had pictures of some of its structures so you’d witness the eye opening stagnation in development in some areas. I imagine the white man coming back in 2016, and with jaws ajar, exclaiming, “Wow! These people haven’t touched a single thing since we left”. Perhaps an exaggeration, but I bet some parts really haven’t been touched.

 

 

wedding party

I live in the East surrounded by mostly Igbos as I, myself, am one. Nigeria’s civil war was engendered by the desire of the Eastern states, the Igbos, wanting succession from their fellow Nigerians. The Yorubas dominate the west, the same corner of Nigeria where the 'New York of Nigeria', Lagos, sits, jam packed with people, where many Igbos also have established businesses and enterprises. Historically the Yorubas attained more education, and maybe still do till date. The Brits had open door policy and many of them traveled abroad to obtain degrees, so it’s distinctive that a Nigerian who lives in the UK is most likely a Yoruba. My experience in Ibadan last weekend was colored by my curiosity to witness how the Yorubas do their weddings, contrasting it to that of Igbos. It’s often an elaborate ordeal as I learned that Yorubas take great pride in throwing parties and celebrating occasions. They tend to focus on parties, celebrations and enjoyment of what they’ve worked for while the pith of a typical Igbo man is to grow his business in order to take care of his woman and family. A favorite aspect of my trip was traveling with my guys. This was my third state to visit with one and second with another. Such a fun crew to adventure with, and they know how to take care of a lady;) Giovanni, as he’s affectionately called, was the only Igbo man among the groomsmen and he was styling and profiling in his ‘Agbada’, the traditional Yoruba male attire. I'm sure many more wedding attending will transpire, all across Naija, and I plan to continue on with the tradition of visiting several states and cities in this motherland of ours.

Bride & Groom dancing down the aisle at the reception

my two guys

   

leading in new territory

Training Legal Aid group on sexual abuse campaign

As part of the Nigerian National Youth Service program, you’re obligated to a weekly meeting where you and your cohort discuss and implement initiatives that impact the community. I was posted to one called ‘Legal Aid’, somehow clumped in with lawyers. I am not the only non-lawyer, in fact there are quite a few of us, and since a group can reach up to a hundred people, it necessitates a leadership team called the 'Excos'. As a residing exco member, almost every week for the past several months, I’ve stood before the CDS (Community Development Service) group, addressing them on various matters.

It’s common practice to avoid attending meetings and especially taking on leadership positions because it means saying goodbye to all attempts of clandestine operations during your service year because now you’re in the limelight and the officials even know you by name, which also means when you're absent, you could possibly be queried. At my first CDS meeting, the then excos were deliberating a matter then solicited input from the rest of us. My attempt to keep my mouth sealed at all cost was decimated when someone’s illogical suggestion was quickly becoming policy. My vow of silence was broken when I followed protocol by standing and speaking for literally no more than 10 seconds, giving my rebuttal. Well, apparently that was all they needed. Next thing I know I’m occupying the seat of the Vice President following a brief election. Wait a minute…what just happened?! I was suppose to stay underground while pursuing projects with Blessing O. Foundation, but alas, I was unveiled. Soon I came to see the plausible integration of the group's mandate and that of the foundation. It was beyond feasible; a beautiful orchestration. It was this group I later trained to infiltrate the schools in the town to educate students on child sexual abuse. The foundation’s campaign objectives would be achieved using this medium, and people were on board, or so I presumed. 

Mom and Legal Aid educating students on child abuse during morning assembly

I’ve been privileged to lead some eclectic groups over the years, but this was my first experience leading Nigerian peers. After my first few meetings, I concluded that they are the most challenging. Few months into it, I’m changing my mind because I realized it was my paradigm that needed shifting, not necessarily theirs. Initially I wanted to title this post- ‘Motivating the unmotivated’, but I was humbled by an epiphany as I reread my first draft.

A corp member presenting to a school at morning assembly

I wanted to start this post by saying, motivating the unmotivated is perhaps one of the more challenging aspects of leadership. I sympathize with David in the Bible when the men under his authority were disgruntled, discouraged, depressed, and the list goes on and on. Talk about pulling teeth. This service year I’ve swallowed the bitter pill of trying to envision a people who just don’t want to be there. I can’t blame them for this attitude because I, too, tried to escape this obligation, plus the youth service prosaic activities and administration can be very frustrating, giving one more justification of doing the absolute minimal possible.

Another aspect of my leadership challenge was their facial expressions. I think we, Africans, are known for our flamboyant expressions, or lack thereof. At times it seems the expression of happiness can be concealed behind the expression of dullness, and I don’t really understand this, but that’s beside the point. When I stand before my fellow corpers to address them, I stare in the face of blank stares, and maybe this is normal? Honestly it threw me off internally the first few times, until I began hearing what people thought and said of me behind my back, thankfully, mostly encouraging things. It sure didn’t show in their expressions. As I type this I'm simultaneously aware of my need for affirmation, especially when uncertainty knocks at your gate because I endeavored into an unknown territory.

To end this post more appropriately, I will share my epiphany- leaning on people’s affirmation as a source for relevancy is building a house on quick sand (because let’s be honest- stamps of approval dashed out in form of facial expressions or words of affirmation is a form of validation). This isn't necessarily a negative ideology, but if one cannot stand on conviction alone when addressing a people or taking action, the resistance, be it reality or perceived, will knock one down eventually. Conviction is the common thread that wove William Wilberforce and Dr. MLK together, a century apart. Conviction is critical and perhaps one of the fundamental ‘make or break’ of rising leaders. 

the life of black hair

me & my dancing partner, Andrea, at a friend's wedding

I just returned from holiday in the U.S. and some asked how I felt in coming back after being gone for some months. Others made comments on how my Nigerian accent was much stronger, while others engaged me as if I had never left, and of course there are ones who commented on my hair. I wore braids (with attachments or extensions), and though this wasn’t my propensity while in America, it almost has become so in Nigeria because to take care of hair here is kinda challenging, for two reasons- time & the concept of beauty.

Black women in the U.S. underwent a movement towards natural hair in the last few years. We went from perming/relaxing our hair to letting it all go. (quick aside- On a trip to Morocco some years back with a team, a crazy, beautiful friend of mine, Angie, and I visited with young ladies who were Muslim. They wore their lovely head-scarfs and dined with us as we started a conversation about hair. After some time Angie looks at them and while gesturing like the lady in red, flinging her arms towards her hair says, ‘why don’t you just let it all out. In consternation, the ladies gasped. The thought of being a kind of loose woman, abandoning all sense of morality, neglecting their cultural norm and exposing their hair in public was appalling. Let’s just say we didn’t share another meal with them again. Perhaps they felt insulted by that suggestion. Ok…back to the main theme here- HAIR) Maybe, just maybe black women got tired of putting in chemicals every few weeks and being absolutely terrified of water, drizzling from above or full immersion, there’s fire on the mountain, run run run is what we did at the sight of water, one of the most natural, self sustaining elements on this planet. We traded one pain (burn from relaxers) to another (learning to comb your hair). We wanted freedom, so we let free, rediscovering our different textures, wave patterns, roughness and new hair creams, choosing twists, twists out, fros, fo-hawks, dreads, sisterlocks and anything else you can create.

 

 

 

Once I asked God why He made black people’s hair sooooo high maintenance, like seriously. His response: His intent with it was and still is to engender community. Think about it- Nothing brings women of color together like hair. In Seattle I’d walk around and when a fellow black woman enjoyed what her eyes laid upon in the style of my hair that day, it was common to get stopped and asked, ‘how did you get it to do that?’ It’s the only thing that justifies stopping a stranger on the street and walking away as the quaintest of friends. Ask any black woman if the following is true: she can walk over to two black women doing hair, irrespective of how tough they may look, get all up in their personal spaces, admire and touch their hair, hold extensive conversation without any kind of introduction. ‘Hair’ stands alone. It’s all the introduction one needs. I walked through the ghettos of Cape town, South Africa with two of my white male friends not too long ago on a quest to find the hairdresser who could braid my hair how I wanted it. We walked from container, turned into shop, to container, and when we entered, I would approach the hairdresser and customer, admire the hair, gist, laugh, and walk away. I told them, ‘fellas, this is the beauty of black women and hair’. They marveled at all the different possible hairstyles. I love exposure.

I moved to Nigeria with natural hair and that was a very different sight for Nigerians, especially in the smaller town where I live. In bigger cities like Lagos and Abuja, I hear it’s becoming the trend, slowly but surely. Because Nigerians don’t know how to conceal their facial expressions, I’ve gotten many different looks. Beyond looks, commentaries, from, ‘you’re bravo o. How do you even comb your hair?’ to ‘your hair looks rough, you should try something else’. After the negative comments, even the strongest of women begin wavering in confidence. In all candor, when I wear my natural hair in Nigeria, I don’t feel as beautiful as I know I am. When in braids or something added, people seemingly look upon me more favourably. Thankfully I do have people who appreciate natural and actually prefer that look on women, most of them being men.

Well, I finally caved. After 8 months of rejecting a cover up (weave), I caved. This came after a good guy friend told me I should try changing my look. He had his motives and I was reluctant even in listening because surely it meant changing who I am, but the more I thought about it, the more reasons I had to just try something different. So the next day I sat down at my neighbor’s shop with the intent to walk away with a fo-hawk with my natural hair and I got up with my first ever weave, not a wig o, a weave-on. I even called my Aunty before making that decision. Don’t ask me why it was such a big deal, but it was to me. My wrestle- Am I betraying the natural hair movement and giving into the concept that a cover up is more suitable, more mature, more attractive?! I still don’t know the answer. All I know is that something is covering my hair and it is quite alright…for now. It gives me a break from daily hair maintenance.

I walked into work yesterday and an admirer of my natural hair said, “why did you hide your fine hair?” I was internally elated. These comments lift my spirit because all hope in natural beauty isn’t lost. Brave women like Lupita Nyong'o and Viola Davis are using their platforms to redefine black beauty. We are on an upward movement and we’re all better off for it.

Ok- I have many thoughts on ‘How To Get Away With Murder’ TV series, but answer this question- Does Viola Davis’ character Annalise Keating look better with or without a wig?