Universe calling Earth - My Dreads

When a child is exposed to more than one language early in life, it grows up with a natural flair to foreign tongues. Unfortunately, it was not like that for me, being the fifth child of a reasonably purest couple. Fortunately, it also meant that we were shielded from the underbelly of life; never witness to fights, arguments and most definitely NO Jerry Springer for our little clan. The result of this ideal childhood is that my siblings and I are peace-loving, pet-embracing and easily-frightened adults that had to learn the hard way.

As a child, I was convinced that my family abducted me shortly after birth from my birthmother, whom I fantasized, was big, black, and passionate and spoke many languages. I always visualised her to be like Mother Earth and spent my days sitting in the flower beds, pouring sand over my skin to restore myself to my original colour. This always led to a spanking and a good scrub which confirmed my convictions and strengthened my desire to find my real roots.

Today, no longer a child (not by a long stretch of the imagination!!), I fully understand this phase and its consequences. I still witness the effects of this innocent period of my childhood in my adult life and one such result is currently rocking my world. Twice before, I had my hair platted in a typical African fashion and recently I decided to embrace dreadlocks. I did my research and found myself a reputable and professional hairdresser called Lena to assist in my transformation. The worst part of the entire experience was to sit still for three hours while she manipulated my fluff into solid plats covered in enough sticky goo to sink the Titanic. I was instructed not to wash my hair for 2 weeks, enabling the goo to ‘lock’ my hair.

Well...... within hours the plats were individuals strands, protruding in all directions and I looked dreadful (no pun intended); as if I had stuck my finger in an electric socket. Yes, just like the cartoon strips!!!

It was however; relatively easy to restore my hair to its natural Arian locks but unbelievably hard to pacify the unexpected, primal flood of emotions that rushed into my being. Like a Tsunami, it has levelled a part of me that has been left unattended for many years and suddenly I find myself on a search and rescue mission. I discovered ‘little’ insignificant habits that over years have migrated away from its origin and settled into my life not unlike the seeds of a plant that becomes a separate entity, disconnected from its parent, yet identical in its appearance.

While writing this blog, I glance out of my office window and is reminded of this phenomena by a big thorn tree that casts its green canopy protectively over my house. A stranger in my garden that arrived three years ago from nowhere, making itself at home by strategically placing itself in an observing position, settling its roots deep into Mother Earth, stretching its branches in all directions, and growing for all its worth.

I hear the tree say: You and I are one. I express us in my way and you need to continue to express us in your way. I’m watching you!!