Dear Diary

We’re our own worst enemies

So I’m at the salon last Saturday, chatting with my hair guy about the sorry condition of my locks. As always, he says they desperately need to be washed with the ‘special dreadlock shampoo’ (whatever that is).</p></div><div><p>They also need deep conditioning. And treatment. And colouring. And anything else that costs more money than my usual wash, twist, dry and bolt routine.

The goal is first and foremost to get me spend money. My hair is expected to benefit from the substantial payout. Sometimes it pays off and other times I cry all the way to the bank.

Yeah, crying in the face of adversity is my thing. Luckily for me, when it comes to my hair, there are no needles involved.

But anyway, I’m in the chair having my hair deep treated or whatever, when the manager guy comes round and asks me if I want a drink. “Yes, thanks,” I say to him. ‘Do you have coffee?”. “No mpenzi, but we have vodka and whiskey, can I offer you a glass?” My head had been bowed because hair guy was pulling at the whisps at the base of my neck without mercy, but the words “vodka and whiskey” had it snapping back faster than a bodaboda running a red light.

Say what? Since when did they serve hard liquor in a salon? Wine, I’ve come across, but distilled alcohol? Must be the new salon swag or whatever. I declined politely. Turns out I was the only one who didn’t fancy doing shots in the salon. Most of the other ladies were down for whatever. And all of them could hold their liquor except one.

Janetta had been in a sexless marriage for 10 years, and had just gotten divorced. Recently, she met the man of her dreams. “I can’t believe that I have a second chance at love. It’s very rare. But my baby is so good to me. He washes me. He massages me. He feeds me. He does everything for me. Ever since we got together, I’ve stopped thinking about that Nigerian I had an affair with. He satisfies my every need!”.

As she spoke, all the ladies were ‘oohing and ahhing’ and hanging on to her every word. But as she went on to reveal the intimate details of her sex life, one woman cautioned that we had reached information overload. She was a lone voice in the wilderness. But as soon as she left every tongue started wagging. Eti he washes her? And feeds her? Lies! And they’ve just known each other for 8-days? First of all he’s younger than her. Just a baby. She pays all his bills! Kwani yeye ni mama anamlisha mtoto? Ameniudhi! Well, so much for female solidarity. Or whatever.