Diary of A Bitchy Black Woman and Her Hair

[Nigerian accent] "May the good Lord bless you and keep you. Amen."

[British machine-woman accent] "After the tone, please record your message. When you have finished, you may hang up or press 1 to hear your options."

*Bleep*

A couple of days ago, I rang Julia*. After hearing that recorded message, I promptly hung up and chose to send a text instead. Returning to a hairdresser with your tail between your legs is not an easy thing... especially when she's a thunder-firing, hell damning born-again Christian.


I first met Julia several years ago when she was working at a fabulous place in central London - it was every black woman's dream! A clean environment with lots of stylish ladies (some white ones even!) tending to your hair's every need, in the most minimal of settings. Free of innit, wizzit and wa'gwan type accents, or the Anglo-Jamo patois I described in my Smackdown vs. Raw post, it was perfect.

That is, until it shut down without warning when the owner (a British guy who made it a point to remember every customer's name) went bankrupt.

The salon's workforce spread out all over London. Most chose to remain in the same area code, and one even went on to star in that random British reality show - I think it was called The Salon?

At the time, I wasn't loyal to Julia. Her thunder-firing and hell damning was bloody irritating, even to Christians like me! She was in the habit of launching into her biblical propaganda whilst washing my hair, accosting whichever poor woman was next to me having her tresses soaped. For reasons I still don't understand, I always felt compelled to shoot lady at sink 2 an apologetic look, as though I was in some way responsible for Julia's relentless bombardment and harrassment. Her favourite tactic was reciting John 3:16.

Lady at Sink 2, whoever she was on the particular Saturday I arrived, would shift in her chair nervously and uncomfortably, whilst Julia probed and questioned her on her faith and relationship with God. If she was a rude one, she would take out her ipod. If she was a cowardly one, she would answer politely, and would make weak attempts to cut the conversation short - which never worked, Julia couldn't (and still can't) take a hint.

One day, Lady at Sink 2 was a fiery Jamaican lass (they always are aren't they) who, despite her well put together ensemble, looked like the kind of person one ought not to mess with. Julia, as usual, began her probing and poking, only for the lady to put one well-manicured hand in the air and shout - "Halt!" Julia stumbled a little, I couldn't see her face as I was lying in front of her with my neck against the sink. Lady at Sink 2 continued - "This isn't church! I didn't come here for a sermon! I'm paying through my arse to have this time to relax, and you think I'm open to listening to this bull sheeet?"

Julia was flabbergasted. She rinsed her hands, and I (thinking she was preparing to back away) said a silent prayer - "Jamaican Lady abeg please come back same time next week! Amen!" Little did I know, but Julia was actually lunging into her handbag in search of her Bible. My hair was soapy and wet, and I was in a very compromising position, but even I had to turn round to look at her (along with the rest of the salon) when I heard the words "Get behind me Satan!" as she began to extol verse upon verse on Lady at Sink 2.

Needless to say, Julia wasn't very popular. Whilst some hairdressers would have two or three people waiting patiently for a turn with them, Julia's chair would be unoccupied, and you would find her waiting patiently behind in it, reading her Bible. Being an impatient so and so (the one thing in life I can not stand is waiting for a hairdresser) I always ended up with Julia, knowingly subjecting myself to the torture that would lie in store whenever we made our way to the sink.

Today, years after those irritating Saturdays, I went back to Julia. I had actually been to her last year when she worked at a very nice Lebanese-run place, but then I think they fought with her over the Bible-quoting thing and so she left, and I just couldn't be bothered to follow her to her next even more random establishment.

Today's reunion was long, as it always is with Julia, and she wanted to know about 'Miss Nigeria' and 'Madame President' (her irritating nicknames for my cousin and my sister).

Somehow we managed to get onto the topic of what I was doing at the moment, and where I was going with my life etc. I told her I was still sticking with the law thing, but was now thinking of jumping ship in a couple of years to become an editor or publisher.

Next thing, she says - "It's as if God answered my prayers when he sent you today. Kai!"

I thought to myself - "Christ! WHAT now?"

She then went on about how she was thinking yesterday about the three books she has had in her head for a while now, which could really help mankind (I promise you she said 'mankind'), but the problem is that she isn't such a great writer, which surprises her because she's such a fantastic talker.

She then looked at me expectantly, and I thought - "What the hell am I supposed to do with that info?"

Realising that I wasn't going to throw any offers her way, she proceeded to go into the detail of these books, nodding enthusiastically as she laid down the plot of each, saying how determined she was etc etc.

Anyway look, to cut this 'tory basically she wants me to PUBLISH her books (which thankfully I'm not in the position to do any time soon) AND to find someone who will ghost write them for her.

Now, the problem with Julia though is that she never gives up, and she will literally bring up the issue every single time I go to her. I really don't know what to do because after having suffered with Whilomena* (another hairdresser, but more on that cow next time) for the last 6 months, I know that my hair will only return to its former glory if I allow Julia to take the wheel!!

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If you are appalled at what a silly billy I can be, I implore you to head here ---> www.theafrobeat.com to see for yourself that I am in fact capable of occupying my time with non-fluffy matters too!