I HAVE been criticized for kuma making a mockery of Brazilian-haired chicas at every given opportunity. Kastig, “ja, you should count yourselves lucky that you have been blessed with good hair texture owing to your German roots.”
Whaaat? I have used perm, S-curl, relaxer, Wella straight, hot irons and whatever imaginable product to straighten my kroes kop (or whatever that is), but in the process the products have thinned down and broken my hair so many times that I have stopped counting.
I have had to cut my hair so many times to start anew. But some of you who don’t know this secret would probably be thinking “she just gave her laanie hair a summer cut.”
So, if you must really criticize people who started making fun of others’ hair, then you should start with our next door neighbour – that South African musician-turned businessman, Chicco Twala – who started with the hit song “Wa perma, nu zahoka” (Your permed hair broke off). No one then minded dancing panzi to that Wapesa song at braais and bazaars.
But then you had to think twice to date a jerry-curled outjie who would not only leave oil but hair on your pillows the next morning as he walked out of your bedroom with a hole in the back of his head.
We all know where all these hair craziness started.
Don’t we all remember just too well how our Tates from the 70’s and 80’s heated an iron comb and smeared a full container of Vaseline on their hair to give it that straight look?
Even our Memes were the Top Girls then with their wigs, which we used to admire and wonder how come their generation had the “good hair”.
So, I am in no place to make fun of others’ hair. I find it senseless and in bad taste to prescribe to others what they must put on their heads.
As a matter of fact, I would probably be the first one to shower others with compliments for looking nxa in their Brazilian hair, unlike some jealous bokkies who would give them that skewe look that says, “Who does that teef think she is? It’s not even her own hair.”
I also didn’t spread that message which went viral on social media that “Namibian girls were afraid to go to the World Cup because the owners of the hair would demand their hair back.” The only responsible thing I did was warning others to be mindful of “injury time” (04h00 in the morning) when bars and clubs close because the ncinas are hard at work with their okapis to cut the hair off and sell it to the next omunangeshefa.
The point that I am trying to make here is that sometimes we need to embrace and make fun of ourselves in whatever shade and texture we come.
Even white girls wear extensions to look a bit like us and we don’t criticise them for that, but if we want to look a little bit like them, then we are all of a sudden fake, sell-outs and wannabes.
So, let’s stop bickering about little things that mean nothing. Someone somewhere said, “If it’s on your head, it must be yours.”
Sorry Ngo!
Magreth Nunuhe
mnunuhe@gmail.com