Beautiful beginnings

starting? Just give it a moment dear,’ she urged. ‘Urembo ni uchungu.’ Beauty is pain. The chemicals bit into her scalp. She winced, clenching her jaw as she resisted the urge to scream. Where is the relaxing bit? Brenda seethed and suddenly longed for her mother’s cold fingers. The way they would comb through her Afro with pomade. The silent intimacy when she plaited her hair on Sunday evenings.

Brenda sat on her hands and bit her lip. She glared at the box that held the relaxer kit. She glared at the girl on the box. The girl in her head. Her promising smile detached from the fire ants marching over Brenda’s scalp.

Judy disappeared but Brenda could still hear her. A woman came in complaining about a lemon bleaching cream. ‘Ai! Judy! Is this supposed to make my skin itch?’

‘Mrembo, I was just telling her, beauty is pain.’

A maxim befitting the wonderful Urembo Parlour Brenda thought, and squeezed her eyes tightly against her itchy scalp and throbbing temples.

Judy came back, bustling about, singing along to Toni Braxton. ‘Let’s get you washed,’ she said cheerfully. Brenda needed no further encouragement.

Her cooked scalped breathed as the cold water ran through it. She inhaled the citrus scented shampoo and relaxed as Judy’s fingers worked through her hair. Her head felt light. Too light.

Has it fallen out? Brenda panicked for a moment. ‘Is it still there?’ she asked.

Judy clucked. ‘Haiya! Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?’ She patted a towel on her head and sat her up in front of the mirror.

Brenda watched her wet hair tumble behind her. She twirled a soft lock. Giddy in her seat, she sang as though the song spoke to her. ‘Let it go, Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow, everything’s gonna work out right.’

Judy blasted the blow-drier, muffling the music, but the familiar tune played on in Brenda’s head. The billowing heat reignited her scalp but she was too lost in her reflection to care. Straight, silky and sleek. She even had a fringe! Brenda absorbed the mirror image of herself. She tilted her head and it bobbed. She ran her fingers through the soft tresses possessively.

‘Just remember to come back every six weeks for a retouch,’ Judy was saying, taking Brenda’s towel. She stared at Judy blankly. ‘The hair will keep growing, my dear,’ Judy chortled, tidying the small space.

Brenda blanched. I’ll have to do this again after six weeks? And then again? And again? Her head spun. How would she tell Ambetsa?

‘So I’ll be seeing you soon!’ Judy said, leading Brenda through the narrow hall. Brenda gulped but nodded. A light breeze rushed in and Brenda’s locks danced in the wind, kissing her cheeks. She felt like the living image of the Beautiful Beginnings poster. Brenda took a deep breath and stepped out. Beauty is pain. Beverly Akoyo Ochieng’ is a Ugandan writer and wrote this story as part of the 2014 Writivism workshop. She is on beverly.ochieng91@gmail.com