Hair and Now

In the mid-90s, I traveled to Africa for the first time. At the time, I worked for World Vision and went with some colleagues to see sponsored projects -- water well drilling, medical clinics, women’s healthcare, HIV awareness, etc. -- in person.

We were in the middle of the Sahara Desert in the nation of Mauritania. When we arrived at a rural village (just a few tents), a female colleague and I (there were only 2 women on the trip) were invited into the tent of a local woman. There are 2 things I distinctly remember about that visit.

First, it was hot. It was well over 100 outside and at least 15 degrees warmer in the tent. As her honored guests, we were served some delicious tea. Piping hot. Because it just came off the open flame, in the stifling tent.

So, to review. Hot.

But the even more memorable thing about that visit was the conversation.

When we first walked through the village, kids were playing outside. As we women sat together in the tent drinking our tea, there was some awkward silence. I felt like I had nothing in common with this woman who lived – literally – halfway across the world. Not religion, language, customs or world view.

Turning to our translator, I asked her to interpret a heady, world-altering question of such import and such philosophical weight that it was bound to bring our 2 worlds together.

The translator frowned, shook her head, turned to the woman and asked her own question. She knew that one of the girls we had seen lived in this tent.

“Can you tell us how you style your daughter’s hair?”

Brilliant.

I will forever remember that conversation. The woman lit up. We laughed and discovered that we could relate. Because we saw that we were not that different - really.

The world right now (especially the US) seems fixated on finding and highlighting differences between us. In my experience though, some of the best of life comes when we find things that we have in common.

Since that hot day in the hot desert in the hot tent with the hot tea, I have tried to put this into practice. For example, I don’t have a tattoo. I would never get a tattoo. I don’t understand the allure of tattoos. But when I meet someone with a visible tattoo, I always ask about it. It is amazing what people say, the reasons they give and the stories they tell. This thing that I don’t understand can open a door into the deep places in someone’s heart, if only I would ask.

You might be wondering where this is all going. Back to the braided hair on that Mauritanian girl from 30 years ago.

In Uganda, hair is a big deal. Sorry, Scott. It is not uncommon to see women sitting outside getting their hair braided or twisted. The process can take many hours. They sometimes use extensions (which they sell in salons or at the grocery store).

Luckily, there are lots of hair salons in Kampala. Some entire city blocks are just for beauty services. We pass several every day. I’m not sure that the names would be terribly inviting in the US, but they all seem to be quite busy. They were closed for three months during COVID but where they could, stylists simply went to their client’s homes. They couldn’t afford to miss work. Nor would their clients want to forgo this essential service.

Just like 30 years ago – hair, once again, has become a point of connection.

This afternoon, I noticed that Jackie had a new hair cut. When I commented, we started talking. I found out that she hates braids, tips her hair with red twice a year and has 5 kids of her own while working as a nanny for a family in our apartment compound. She is a twin and has twins. We also talked about the fact that she’ll need a new job when this family moves next month.

Getting down to what really matters – besides hair.

Note – I’ve tried “Swiss Cut” but maybe next time I will try “The Green Hair Salon.” As a swimmer – it seems pretty fitting.