Hair, Money, and Harmony

It was a warm Sunday evening in Ilorin. The sky painted a serene orange hue across the blue sky, and the living room smelled like burning fabric from Baba’s intense ironing. Baba had been ironing Modupe’s school uniforms since primary school, and all she had to worry about on weekends were her homework and hair. Modupe hated getting her hair done, and her mother cut her hair to save everybody the trouble and herself some money. After Modupe recently vowed to behave when it came to her hair, her mother gave her another chance to grow it out—a chance that she accepted reluctantly.

As the orange sky wore on, it became her turn at Iya Sophia’s salon. Modupe packed her combs and hair cream into a nylon bag and made her way out of the stifling house to the salon. She thought about their living room and how the ironing made her uncomfortable; the fan rotated tirelessly, but the heat was oppressive. The television was loud, but she could barely hear a thing. Their velvet couches were empty, but nowhere was comfortable to sit. On other days, she would like to run her hand through the rough wall without fearing a scratch, but on Sundays, it felt like the walls were thirsty for blood—her blood.

“E ku ise ma,” she politely greeted the hairdresser and found a seat beside the pregnant woman, whose black lipliner she noticed but quickly looked away. It would be rude to stare and mannerless to laugh. Despite her dislike for salons, this place strangely felt like home.

“Which style do you want to do?” Iya Sophia asked, looking at her through the mirror. She admired Iya Sophia’s beauty each time she looked: her caramel skin, beautiful dentition, small frame, grace, and crowd-drawing subtle personality. Modupe had not considered cutting her hair again for a long time because of Iya Sophia’s kindness and skill. She also apologised when she made a mistake—something Aunty Sade would never do. Aunty Sade encouraged parents to beat their daughters when they didn’t want to make their hair. She didn’t have a shop, and she was hard-handed.

“All-back, ma,” Modupe replied. Her school, like most other schools in the area, dictated hairstyles every week. Now that she was the social prefect in charge, she made sure to dictate hairstyles that were easy to make and take off, like all-back. Iya Sophia laughed and said that she knew it already—they were a match made in heaven.

The pregnant woman’s phone punctuated the chatter with silence when it rang. She negotiated money from her husband for her hair, then ended the call with laughter. The entire salon laughed after the call ended and teased her for being a scam. Iya Sophia threatened to hike her fees when it was her turn since she was getting so much money from her man. Everybody laughed about it again, and Mummy Sam said she was so lucky to have a man who would give her money for something like hair. “I add my upkeep money to the grocery budget because my husband would never give me money for pants, bra, or hair, and I’m not working.”

The pregnant woman stretched her legs and praised her for being wise. “Smart move! That way, there will be no conflict, and everybody will be happy.” Aunty Lolly, a newlywed, confessed to taking money from her husband’s safe—enough to spend and go unnoticed. This led to a debate about whether her husband was pretending not to notice or not. This made Modupe think about when she would take money from Baba without permission to replace the missing parts of her math set because Baba would scold or even beat her if anything was missing. “Did Baba notice?” she wondered.

Iya Sophia believed in doing just enough. “I don’t pad my grocery budget, and I don’t take my man’s money. I just do what his money is enough to do and move on.” Modupe’s mother was just like Iya Sophia, only that she would add her money when it was needed.

Mummy Sam shook her head from side to side with her eyes closed. “Never! Ah! If I try it, I will walk naked. I don’t have a job! What am I selling?” Aunty Lolly held her hand and told her to keep padding as long as there was peace. “Yes, oo!” The pregnant woman stood up to find the restroom. She tapped Modupe’s shoulder and told her to be smart when it came to money and her man. Modupe froze because she did not know how to react to this advice, but Iya Sophia came through.

“Please, leave the small girl.” Everybody laughed. The pregnant woman rambled on about how she had to train Modupe from an early age on her way out. Thirty minutes later, Modupe’s hair was done. She walked home, her polka dot dress swaying lightly, a new confidence in her step. Her dark skin felt like a warm embrace, and her mother’s compliment, “You look beautiful,” wrapped around her like a hug. But the evening wasn’t over yet; she had to complete her math assignment.

Modupe searched her bag for her math set, and when she opened it, it was half-empty again. She went to her parents’ room and rushed to the bookshop. She thought about the number of times she had replaced the components of her math set and how much she had spent. She remembered the women at the salon, how they all had their ways of getting what they wanted, and how it kept their peace. She imagined all the beatings she would have received if she had not been replacing the lost components and turned around to go back home, knowing that she would never stop. Because after all this time, it still works.