And now for a wierd moment
When I'm bored I tend to ramble. Of course I am a quiet person so its usually, inner rambling but if I love you then you tend to get an earful. Its that rare time when I stop editing the things I think, and simply blabber on and on until it is just a rush of not intelligent thoughts moving through my brain at the speed of light.
Sometimes this happens in class. Yesterday it almost happened but then God, in his kind and loving way decided to spring a weird moment on me. Lets moving-picture it!
So I'm sitting in the lecture hall doodling my name with flowers, stars and peace signs over and over again in my planner because contrary to popular belief that is what a planner is for. In the row right behind me are two girls and a boy, who I just glimpsed briefly on my way to my seat, chattering on in Xhosa (I know it is Xhosa because they are clicking). Suddenly in the middle of a rather round and unique star I feel as if someone is touching my hair. This is in addition to the fact that the chattering has been replaced by whispers and giggles.
Now a normal black woman might turn around and cuss them out. I myself am timid but saving grace! I have a fantastic sense of humour. The point of the previous sentence is that I did not turn around and cuss them out. I, like the coward I am (shoot me if its a crime), simply slipped a little more forward in my seat, hummed Three Little Birds just a little bit louder and became avidly interested in my round star, giving it depth, adding a tiny spotlight with light falling appropriately, thinking up names for when I sell it to an Art Gallery when....
The seat to my right was filled by a boy-man whose ancestors are possibly from South Asia. Unlike most Ugandans, I have an intense love for Indians, their food, music, clothes and all things Bollywood so when he interrupted my work of art I was only peeved for a minute.
And so we began a lively conversation on everything because luckily he happens to only a need a listener in order to go on and on and on and on....until I felt my hair being petted again! Now I was just shockedly amused (Why isn't that in Webster's yet?) so I turned in my seat to give this petter of my hair a perplexed look to which his friends burst into giggles and clicks. I exaggerate not.
"Are you petting my hair?" is all I can come up as I stare up at him, wishing I had my glasses on so I could get a more than blurry idea of what he looks like.
To which he smiles.... At least I think he smiled. Where there was only a shadow of a black line, it opened to show off white teeth, think, and then I smelt Colgate herbal...and replies,
"Yes, I like your hair. Its pretty" and reaches over my face, to pet my hair again.
And now I shared a "look" with my new talkative friend and then, like a whiplash my mouth was!
"Nigger, get your nasty a** hands off my head! I don't KNOW you!"
Ok pause.
I did not really say that. I already said I'm a coward. Think more along the lines of what a coward would do. Aha. Now think along the lines of what a coward with a sense of humour would do. Ok now we're back on the same page.
Press play
I smiled a very "you are very crazy which is why I am smiling" smile and say,
" Thank you,"
End moving picture now.
What else could I have done? Women want compliments. What better compliment than to have a stranger, breath taken, reach out and pet your head in wonder.
At least this is how I am consoling myself. Other, jealous in my opinion, people have two theories.
When I'm bored I tend to ramble. Of course I am a quiet person so its usually, inner rambling but if I love you then you tend to get an earful. Its that rare time when I stop editing the things I think, and simply blabber on and on until it is just a rush of not intelligent thoughts moving through my brain at the speed of light.
Sometimes this happens in class. Yesterday it almost happened but then God, in his kind and loving way decided to spring a weird moment on me. Lets moving-picture it!
So I'm sitting in the lecture hall doodling my name with flowers, stars and peace signs over and over again in my planner because contrary to popular belief that is what a planner is for. In the row right behind me are two girls and a boy, who I just glimpsed briefly on my way to my seat, chattering on in Xhosa (I know it is Xhosa because they are clicking). Suddenly in the middle of a rather round and unique star I feel as if someone is touching my hair. This is in addition to the fact that the chattering has been replaced by whispers and giggles.
Now a normal black woman might turn around and cuss them out. I myself am timid but saving grace! I have a fantastic sense of humour. The point of the previous sentence is that I did not turn around and cuss them out. I, like the coward I am (shoot me if its a crime), simply slipped a little more forward in my seat, hummed Three Little Birds just a little bit louder and became avidly interested in my round star, giving it depth, adding a tiny spotlight with light falling appropriately, thinking up names for when I sell it to an Art Gallery when....
The seat to my right was filled by a boy-man whose ancestors are possibly from South Asia. Unlike most Ugandans, I have an intense love for Indians, their food, music, clothes and all things Bollywood so when he interrupted my work of art I was only peeved for a minute.
And so we began a lively conversation on everything because luckily he happens to only a need a listener in order to go on and on and on and on....until I felt my hair being petted again! Now I was just shockedly amused (Why isn't that in Webster's yet?) so I turned in my seat to give this petter of my hair a perplexed look to which his friends burst into giggles and clicks. I exaggerate not.
"Are you petting my hair?" is all I can come up as I stare up at him, wishing I had my glasses on so I could get a more than blurry idea of what he looks like.
To which he smiles.... At least I think he smiled. Where there was only a shadow of a black line, it opened to show off white teeth, think, and then I smelt Colgate herbal...and replies,
"Yes, I like your hair. Its pretty" and reaches over my face, to pet my hair again.
And now I shared a "look" with my new talkative friend and then, like a whiplash my mouth was!
"Nigger, get your nasty a** hands off my head! I don't KNOW you!"
Ok pause.
I did not really say that. I already said I'm a coward. Think more along the lines of what a coward would do. Aha. Now think along the lines of what a coward with a sense of humour would do. Ok now we're back on the same page.
Press play
I smiled a very "you are very crazy which is why I am smiling" smile and say,
" Thank you,"
End moving picture now.
What else could I have done? Women want compliments. What better compliment than to have a stranger, breath taken, reach out and pet your head in wonder.
At least this is how I am consoling myself. Other, jealous in my opinion, people have two theories.
- That he, being like most men of our generation who have been disillusioned by the fact that most black women with long hair usually have glue at the bottom, was checking to see if I have weave.
- That I should be worried that someone was showing Dr. Hannibal like behaviour towards me. That I should be very very afraid.
And I could see how they might have a point. Because the cynic I really am knows he was looking for weave. However, I must concede at the end of the day that he majorly stoked my ego. I came out feeling like I had hair like Medusa, you know, awe-inspiring but minus the whole snake thing.
But the Dr. Hannibal thing. Come on. As if!
2 comments
this was delightful! could you please be bored again, and again, and again...
REPLYDude was too stroked by your hair! considering how bad their hair is, eh eh, he just had to touch.
I am sticking with number two on this one. And you do have loooong conversations with yourself, i wonder what would have happened had you expressed what you were thinking to the toucher in question.
REPLYhi! thanks for commenting. I'm always open to new ideas. I can't wait to hear yours.