Before I go to Tamale, I want to remove my black braids. They would be perfect for traveling in draughty Tros, but they are loosening and would maybe not be approved of in the North as they are here. Catherine offered to help me and comes to Agnes’ house in the afternoon. On the balcony we sit down and remove braid after braid. Catherine is rough, but fast, much faster than me. Angel, Florence’s daughter, is on the balcony as well, eating and then doing her homework. She watches us with wide eyes. The pile of black hair on my lap grows. Single hairs shimmer golden in each black strand. I wonder how much of my own hair I am losing. Catherine is not very gentle with me. My head hurts when we are finished but feels lighter. It is time to really wash my hair again, it feels disgusting as I run my hand through it. First, it is time to eat. I sit down next to Angel who still stares at me. ‘Is she the girl who did your hair?’ No, she brought me to the hairdresser and now helped me to remove it. I don’t quite understand why she is so amazed but I am pleased by this change. Often, the only thing I hear from this little girl is ‘Dirty, foolish girl.’ or ‘Your food is dirty.’ Seldom I receive a polite answer to a simple question if any at all. Now, she seems to be really impressed although I don’t know of what. When we finish our dinner, she follows me to the kitchen and cleans her plate herself, asking me to help her turn on the water. As it is my turn to wash my plate, she stays with me and does the drying up. I am overwhelmed.
I take my shower and am a little concerned. Too much hair is falling out. I comb it. Two strokes. I look at the brush. It is full of hair. A big ball of hair as if a dog with long hair has been brushed and this is all that fell out. Two strokes. There is no other option than continuing. It gets worse, it doesn’t seem to stop or even become less. I am really worried now. A picture of me with a bald head in my mind, I leave my room to find somebody to ask for help. Agnes is watching TV but does not seem very impressed or shocked when I tell her what is happening. I should call Catherine and ask her. She won’t have an answer, I am sure. Instead, I call Anna. She had braids made as well. However, according to her, she didn’t lose much hair. She only had them in for a week. I am desperate now. Avoiding the mirror, I finish combing, pack all the hair in a plastic bag and just go to bed. Tomorrow maybe, everything will appear in a different light. I know it won’t. I can’t sleep. I decide to cut everything as soon as I am home.
