Great to see high profile African writers writing about hair as well.
The history of my hair
Just as I glance around to put the final touches on my house cleaning in the lounge, a ray of sunshine penetrates my black and white family portrait hanging on the plain creamy coloured wall next to the window. Great memories of me in it, my children make a point of pointing out to this picture to their friends whenever they visit. My daughter reckons I look like a boy, a carbon copy of my son regardless of the dress because my hair is about a half an inch long. In the picture I am standing next to my mother who has my brother as a baby wrapped in a white baby shawl sitting upright on her lap. He was born in July 1971 and that is how I know it was months after I started primary school.
As a baby my…
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