JANGU TWEZIGULE ,BEAUTY CORNER

HAIRDRESSERS FROM HELLO

ebiseera ebisinga okwaata ssente zo nowesiga omuntu okukolako lube lususu oba nviiri oba kubitundu ebirala ebyo mubiri naye novaayo nekyotolinze bwanyumya ate tekiri ku bakyaala bokka naye tuwulidde nabaamu nga bemulugunya nti bagenda mu bakinyoozi nebajjayo endwadde eze nsusu olwo butafumba oba to disinfect ebikozesebwa nga bamaze okukola ku bantu abalala
Ono wansi bwaati bwakinyumyaako ekya mutukako , gwe kyaali kikutuseeko?

I survived losing my hair to spiteful hairdressers

I felt chic despite endless advice from friends to undo the braids! For two months, I‘d persistently received advice to undo my kinky braids. I was told I risked losing my front hair, but no way was I willing to destroy my new found stylishness! One morning, I woke up to the sight of two loose braids on my pillow and realised my front hair was on the line. Panicky, I rushed to a salon in my neighborhood, next to Kampala International University to undo the kinky and save my front hair.

I speak Luganda eloquently but unconsciously, I spoke to the salon ladies in English, giving them strict instructions not to cut short the braids but undo them as they were. Earlier, a friend had warned me about hairdressers who opt to cut short braids before they roll them out because they are able to undo the braids much faster than when they don’t cut part of them. However, in the process they may cut the client’s actual hair as they may confuse it for the braid.

Shortly, I realized the women thought I was Kenyan as I heard one of them inquire why I was speaking only English. Her colleague’s response was, “Ono mu naKenya” meaning she is Kenyan. Actually, some KIU students refer to KIU as “Kenyans In Uganda” (KIU) due to the influx of Kenyan students to the university.

I almost told her I was a fellow Ugandan who preferred speaking English but I decided to keep up the act, which I later found to have been a smart move. Later, I realized they were trimming off long pieces off my braids before rolling the hair out. I politely, in English asked them not to cut the tips lest they cut my hair and one remarked, “Alowoza time tujilina!” Meaning, “She thinks we have that time!” I almost told her I knew it wasn’t easy and that‘s why I‘d gone to the salon to pay her to do it. Before long, one of them whispered, “Tujja musala nno enviri, olugezigezi lungi!” Meaning, “We will cut her hair, she is very stubborn!”

Infuriated I firmly retaliated in Luganda, “Don’t cut my hair!” I noticed the shock on their faces. I heard one stifle a laugh but I maintained an angry expression. They all went quiet and atmosphere in the salon was tense until they finished. I walked out feeling proud for having survived losing my hair to spiteful hairdressers.
Vicky W
from monitor