– A Poem by Noluthando Buthelezi
I remember sitting in between my mother’s thighs
As she grabs a comb, pulls my hair tight
I’d wince and she’d ignore my cries
Then eventually
I’d let out a surrendering sigh.
I remember the stories she’d tell me
About what’s what and who’s who in the streets
Her voice
Soothing
Her fingertips leaving my scalp in peace
Massaged by her soft hands
Putting me to sleep.
I remember the smell of the relaxer around the house
I can still smell it on the towel I’d wear to cover my blouse
I’d sit still
Patiently waiting for Ma to finish the blowout
The process hurt at times
But I trusted Ma, she knew what she was about.
I can still feel the long end of the thin-toothed comb
Opening a pathway on my head
Leading to a place called home
I can feel the rhythm of her fingers
And the wool as it roams
The sound of plaits against her voice
Set a soothing tone.
She always set the power of the hair-dryer to low
She’d say “too much heat is bad for that afro”
Carefully, she parted the hair and moisturized it slow
“Just as you need food, so does your hair so that it can grow”.
When I look in the mirror
And I look at my hair
I remember Ma’s stares
The glow in her eyes reflected how much she cares
The pride she took in doing my hair
Is the same pride that I will always wear.
