Hands
My customers often tell me I have quick hands. They marvel at how fast I am at weaving their hair. Aunty Rukayah — one of my favourite customers — once told me that I weave hair like someone standing on hot coals, trying to finish before getting my feet burned. I think it was a compliment. At least, I took it as one.
What they do not know is that this skill was acquired over time, through years of involuntary practice- packing all the belongings in the house quickly, as my mother and I made our way out of our house in Obantoko to catch the next available bus to Lagos before the crack of dawn, in a bid to escape my father’s violence.
Scurrying around my mother’s salon, trying to stash away all our hard-earned money before the armed robbers raiding neighbouring areas made their way to our stall.
Rummaging through the share of the monthly food donations on our street to select the best food items on time, so we could have something to eat at home.
I have learned to be alert always because time waits for no one, and you never know when you need to be on the move.
Today, I am weaving Aunty Ijeoma’s hair. I have to finish up before 1:00 pm, so I can go to Alhaja’s house. She has offered to pay my school fees so I don’t have to weave hair while my mates are in class.
I want to go to school. Maybe my quick hands can help me better in the classroom.
