The Hair Stylist - By Tessy Mordi


I saw her walk majestically towards the beauty shop. Dressed with a milk tan top and a fitted high waist, kneel-levelled skirt that revealing her curves appropriately. She was big on all sides. A little bit on the fair side. I was sitted right in front of the shop waiting for my turn to have my hair fixed when I saw her coming in.

'Who be this one? abeg let her majestically walk back oo because there is no chance'. I said, ignoring her expression.

After greeting her emphatically, I got a reply that didn't seem to be out of true respect. If this lady was not coming into the shop, her looks won't have borthered me. But from the minute I noticed she was heading towards the shop,  I could not stop myself from inwardly analyzing how she looked. 'She must be irresponsible given her looks', I concluded.

'Abeg do that lady hair', the shop owner appealed to this Majestically walking lady as she entered the shop and sat down.

'Oh! So she is a hair stylist', I thought. And there I was thinking she had come to fix her hair like a customer', one of my assumptions gone wrong. From where I sat, I quietly watched her relax the other lady's hair. When she was done, the owner had another assignment for her - my hair. What? So she will be fixing my very own hair. How nice. I thought sarcastically.

She began first with stretching my attachment, asked her madam how to do the style I wanted and then started fixing my hair. Facing the mirror directly, all I could think about was how to start a conversation with her, of course, with Jesus in it. 'From the way she looked, she definitely needs him', I said to myself. I have this principle of always leaving a message of Jesus with whoever I meet. So here I was. For about 2hours, she worked on my hair but was rather slow. Not just that, all attempts to start a conversation with her hit a brick wall. Her responses were not only straight forward, they reeked of a hidden message which read 'mind your business'. Not until a man walked into the shop and jokingly addressed the ladies who were outside about the sudden change of a girl's look because of the Christmas season was I able to begin a rather unusual conversation that lasted till I left the shop.

Amaka was her name. And throughout my remaining stressful stay in the beauty shop as we were together away from the rest of the hair stylists and customers, we shared our life experiences. Amaka was more than I had thought and more than the clothes she wore. I saw me in her and her in me as she shared her bad and good experiences coupled with lessons. Amaka was a woman who had gone through life and could conclude that Jesus is everything. As we spoke, I inwardly scolded myself for been so judgemental.

The 'Do-not-judge others' lesson is one lesson we will keep learning till we leave this world. My experience with Amaka, the very chubby and beautiful hair stylist gave me the tutorial once again.


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