The Dreadlock lady synopsis.
The story talks about a young lady and her hair journey. It sheds light on views held around her dreadlocks. It also incorporates her friendships, love life, career and frienemies.
The hair brand reference in this hair story is @hair_by_zil on I.G.
For more stories read here, Wives of the South – Episode 1
Now the story.
The Dreadlock Lady.
The evening jams are really getting to me as I’m nodding to the thrilling Nigerian oldies tunes while sipping my soft drink by the poolside. Today is usually for oldies.
Other people are sitting too enjoying their drinks. Two ladies and a man are the prominent people I sight.
This D.J is really giving me the vibe. This must be why I crave coming to this particular bar down my street.
The ambience from the dim coloured lights and the way they revolve round would make me hide comfortably. Even if I happen to sight someone I know, I can choose to greet or ignore them.
Sitting by the pool side, I try to recall how I messed up yesterday. Just while I’m thinking and feeling terrible about messing up, I sight Grace advancing towards me.
Grace, Slim shady as we fondly call her isn’t looking happy today. Her swift steps and frown are reflecting anger.
I decide it’s better I stand to greet her and at least explain myself but while I’m getting on my feet, I don’t know the demon that possessed her.
She pushes me into the nearby pool before I can say Jack!
My head is spinning. I struggle, flapping my hands and feet to gain balance and stay afloat.
“What was that for?” I question while wiping off the water from my face.
I’m drenched even within. My teeth gritting. I’m shivering cold.
“That’s for trying to steal Chibueze from me!” Comes her harsh voice.
“I did nothing! Nothing happened between us!”
“Tell that to a mad person! Listen, if you ever step your feet in his house again! I’ll show you the stuff I’m made of. I’ll show you I’m from this town! You hear! Rubbish!”
She’s whining her waist and zooming off.
I pull myself out of the pool. Wrap arms around myself. Still feeling terrible. I wish I can disappear and avoid all the stares.
“All these Olosho” I overhear a man sitting by the table, downing alcohol, exclaim even when I try to ignore him.
“See her hair sef, See the way she has messed up herself!” Another lady comments.
I tilt my head slightly in her direction. Her hair is no better than my cool dreads. Mine is short, dark and natural; hers is one nonsense wig that doesn’t even suit her plump face. I loathe how short she is, like maltex bottle.
“Fine girl, sorry eh! Here, take this towel and clean yourself up!” The kind waiter opens up a big white towel that can wrap my slim figure twice. His eyes fill with pity. His ponk hair cut wears better giving him a funky look. He looks like he’s seen this happen countless times to their customers.
I smile weakly.
“Thank you!” But I ignore him and head out.
I’ll rather drip home wet in my thick jeans and shirt than have these people finish me with more harsh words. I can tell that I’m never going back there! Ever! This walk of shame is enough for one night! Let me get home safe and sleep, forgetting this never happened.
My room is in disarray this weekend.
First, I am too tired to arrange my clothes I had laundered the previous day.
I observe as they heap on the chair next to my bed. The floors are dull, begging for a little mopping to shine them up.
I caused this for myself is my conclusion as I lie flat on my bed.
A day before yesterday, in my usual way I decided to meet Chibueze in his house and interview him about his upcoming single song.
I had informed Grace and veered out but things got bizarre. I shouldn’t have gone. My passion for what I do has blinded me. My quest for knowledge caused me this walk of shame. I was going to use his interview to couch an interesting blogpost.
See how I danced into the lion’s den.
I get up and stare into my bedside mirror.
My eyes are sagging. My dreads disheveled.
I open the curtain, then the window and stare outside. The weather is dull, plain sky, lesser noises from cars zooming off.
Soon the compound would be busy, I better finish off my scribbling from the story I gathered so I’ll be in time for the book reading today.
I pull myself towards the bathroom to perform the morning rituals – brushing, bathing, shampooing and styling my dreadlocks.
Read the next here, DREADLOCK LADY- EPISODE TWO