Hair (or, Mayday Part One)

I took out my braids yesterday. Fifty tiny little braids, each with its own yellow or red or blue or green elastic- or one of my sister's braces elastics- or without since they'd been breaking recently. After all, I'd had them in since May first. A month and almost two weeks later I tried not to think too hard about the day I got my hair braided. Snipping off each one right above the elastic, my hair's all nice and layered now, hopefully less split ends, and after a shower and some shampoo it's back to normal.

Good timing, too, another week and I would've had rasta dreads. It was getting manky and matting together but I'd gotten so used to the braids, so attached to them (haha). It was something else I was holding onto for no reason, but when am I ever gonna get my hair done like that again? I'm not just referring to the braids. I'm referring to the experience.

May day was they day I was looking forward to the least, right from the start. I thought I'd get super homesick, since it's the only holiday during spring semester that I really get into. It's funny how holidays line up, though- I called my family to say "happy independence day" and had forgotten they'd be celebrating Easter on April 4th. When I was thinking about my Minneapolis family and the May Day parade this year, my Toubacouta family was planning for the Labor Day parade. Samba told me the night before that there'd be a huge gathering right in front of the school where I worked (or had just finished working the day before) and then there'd be a parade, and the whole town would be there. I couldn't wait! We hadn't had rehearsal or a show since that Wednesday for the troupe, so Saturday would be a good chance to see everyone and say goodbye since I was leaving Sunday morning. He said the parade would start around eight in the morning.

So I wake up at seven as usual. And I eat breakfast as usual, and I'm humming Hal-An-Tow and my family laughs at me for singing in English and asks me to sing the Mandinka songs I learned instead, they want to hear *this* one or *that* one and then they want to see me dance, because it's oh-so-funny to hear me sing and watch me dance, never mind that it's seven in the morning, I must want to entertain them, why wouldn't I? And because it's my last day I pretend to be so elated to sing for them right after waking up, do they notice I'm still wearing my pajama top no of course not. Concentrate on how much you'll miss them tomorrow not on how you feel like a performing dog in a circus. And when they get tired of requesting songs and dance moves, Fatou asks me to help her fold laundry. No, not the clean laundry that just came off the line. The laundry from the closet- ALL of the clothes my family owns, apparently needed to be re-folded and re-organized, right away. And since I can fold laundry, I was goign to help. And I did. I figured since Samba told me the parade would start at 8, I could wait a few hours and go at 9. I told Fatou I'd help with the clothes. She said "Good" and went to go give Grand-mère her breakfast, leaving me alone in the house, feeling like I was about to try and spin straw into gold.


Luckily Fatou came back after about an hour. I asked her if there was going to be a parade. She said "oh, yeah, I think I hear music from that side of town... I guess there must be" and after an awkward silence I asked if I could go. She said yes of course I could go if I wanted to. After another awkward silence I asked if I could go *now*. She said yes, of course, why wouldn't I? (the huge house-cleaning thing for one... but I didn't argue) So I take my camera and rush (okay, walk.) down to the Garderie where there's a HUGE sound system all set up playing bad pop music that you can hear all over town (literally). Sitting directly in front of the speakers is Khadi and Maimouna and this guy from the troupe who I assume is Khadi's husband but I never can tell 'cause they don't really talk but she's always sitting next to him and I'm always too shy to ask in case they're siblings or something. No one else is there. I ask what's going on and they shrug. I wait for a bit, but then leave to take one more picture-tour of the neighborhood, snapping pictures of all the places I see/saw every day. Almost no one's around, it's weird. I finally see Samba talking to Ice-T, and as I get closer Ibou shows up too. Samba asks if I'm on my way to the "manifestation" so I guess it's a protest parade, and Ibou offers to walk me there, and since I've been fighting off tears since I woke up and realized that it was gonna be a long day of "lasts", there is nothing I'd rather do.

So we walk back to the school, and sit and wait. By this time though I'm used to sitting and waiting. It's what this town does- it's what this country does. Sit and wait. And at this point I can do that too. It's hot out, and I'm with my friends. We don't talk, hardly even look at each other, but we're sitting near each other which here counts as hanging out. The music's too loud anyway. Abdoulaye Sarr shows up, and some kids run through who were in my class. It's my last day in Toubacouta and I'm sitting and waiting for something to happen. As people start to gather though I see my cousin Sali standing at the edge of the road, just sort of staring at me. Which would be odd, if I weren't used to odd by now. I get the feeling though, that I should go over and see what's up.

So I walk over and she asks why I'm there. Which I don't answer. And she asks when I want her to do my hair. I say whenever she wants to, I'm free. After another awkward pause, I say "so would now work?" and she says no, she's got to go to a neighbor's to see if they're ready to start cooking the huge lunch for the manifestation. But she doesn't move. After another awkward pause I ask if I could go with her. She shrugs and turns and walks away, which I know means I should follow. We walk to a compound I recognize as Salif's , where she pulls up a chair on the porch of one of the houses and tells me to sit down. I do. She then tells me to tilt my head forward. As soon as I do, she starts RIPPING my hair into sections and braiding it. Just like that.

So I'm sitting on a stranger's porch getting my hair done because Sali's waiting to hear news of when she's supposed to help cook lunch for the protest/parade that is of now four hours late in happening, and my hair which hasn't really been brushed that day is getting ripped all sorts of directions because she's used to dealing with FAKE hair that doesn't hurt when you pull it. Also, they start from the back of your head, which happens to be the most painful, as I found out. My head is down so I can't see anything and they can't see the faces I'm making, and I can hear people gathering about thirty feet away by the school where I'd much rather be but I get the feeling Sali wanted to do my hair today and didn't have any other time to do it. She acted like she was bored out of her mind, but that's how she always is. She's fifteen, I kept forgetting, and the classic teenager.

So two hours later after I was getting a crick in my neck and ready to scream from the pain, she casually mentioned "so anytime you want to go, we should". As if she was waiting for me. As if we were there because I wanted to stay. We just spent at least two hours sitting on someone's porch for no reason other than both of us thought the other one wanted to be there. Story of my life. Cousin Sali in a nutshell. So I suggested we go back to our house where I could BRUSH MY HAIR so it wouldn't hurt as much. As we leave, though, she mentions that the parade just left, if I "wanted to go see it". I didn't think anyone would be there, so I said it was okay if she just wanted to go home. She stood there and pointed out lazily that all my friends would be in the parade by now, we could hear the drums from there.

So with half my hair (the underside) in braids and the other (top) half down over it, we walked to catch up with the parade. For the comedy of this situation to really hit home, you need to understand the speed at which most people here walk. Imagine you're late for the bus but have to walk behind a very sleepy three-year-old. And it's hot out. And the roads are made of sand. The parade was three blocks ahead of us, and Sali kept saying things like "don't you want to see your friends" one minute and "Why are you in a hurry? they're right over there" the next. She has a way of making me feel like I'm dragging her along everywhere, even though usually she's the one who tells me to get up and go (though she doesn't say "where") or insists on coming along. But I do my best to walk as quickly as is polite to catch up with my friends. Good thing I brought along my camera.

There's a pickup truck with speakers in teh back, and a microphone, and some of the drummers are chanting "Respectez, les artistes, respectez, les contracts!" it's a protest march, there are all these women in brilliantly colored dresses holding big signs (that I only see the back of) and the truck's got at least ten guys standing/sitting/clinging to it, and there are drums and people are waving from their houses as we make a tour of the town. As soon as I reach the tail end of parade, Sali pulls at my arm and informs me that we're caught up now, and I shouldn't rush, I should stay with my family (a few cousins, some ten-year-old girls, have found me). I'm literally two yards from Ibou and Abdoulaye and they couldn't hear me if I shouted. But this is my last day as Aminata Sylla, and Sali's being so nice to braid my hair and it's family and she doesn't realize how frustrating she's being. I need to spend time with my family. So I stay with her. Until she points to Fatou and Khadi and says "look, your friends, the girls from the troupe. They'll miss you when you're gone. Go say hi to them" So with the permission of my fifteen year old cousin I go say hi to the two girls.

I realize how little my family knows about my troupe. Everyone assumes that I'd be friends with the female dancers and have no connection to any of the guys. Even the guys in the troupe assume I'll only be friends with the girls. And I am, I really am friends with Maimouna and Khadi and Fatou and Sw and Maimouna. But for some reason it's less stressful to hang out with Mamadou and Ibou. And Abdoulaye's the one who teaches me dancing and drumming. And I realized that my family knows none of that when we passed by Abdoulaye's house and Sali mentioned "someone from your troupe lives there. You know Abdoulaye Ndong? (she points to him, three feet away, who I've been trying to catch up to this whole time) He lives here. He's not married, though."

Thanks for the info, Sali. I've been there at least once every day for the last three weeks. It's where everyone hangs out after a show. Or before a show. I waved at his sister.

We kept moving, and eventually I got to say hi to more people. I took photos, too. Salif made funny faces, and Wayne tried to get me to jump on the truck with them, but I knew Sali wouldn't like that. For some reason my family gets weird around the troupe. Eventually though she pulled me aside to go talk to her friends who were sitting by the side of the main road. I stood while she chatted for a while, then told her I was going home. "Then when am I going to finish your hair?" I said whenever she wanted, since I'd be home. She got up and walked with me then back to the house.

It was a little after one in the afternoon.