Last week Saturday was my birthday, y'all! Yaaaaaaayyyyy!!! Has God been awesome or what??! Whoop! Whoop!! 🙌💃💃💃🎊🎉🎉🎆🎂
You see, I have this ritual (or tradition of some sorts) of always trying to do something new for my birthday; Something or anything I've wanted to do for a long time. Like a gift from myself to myself...you know, you know...😉😉😎 Lol
I haven't always had this tradition, though. But growing up and seeking to find my truth or at least to understand myself better, I adopted it. In 2015, on my birthday morning, I woke up, went down to the Park and boarded a bus for Port Harcourt. I remember deciding to do this just before I went to bed the night before. I got into the town around 2pm, spent the day with my then boyfriend and his friend, and the next day, I came back. That was 2015.
Last year, I decided I was going to get henna tattoo. Henna tattoo is the beautiful body art thingy the Hausa and Arabian women use to decorate their arms and feet for special occasions like weddings and festivals. The dye is extracted from the flowers of a plant known as Lawsonia Genus. The 'tattoo' is temporal as it lasts for a maximum of 3-5 weeks. The dye can be used not only on the skin, but to colour the hair, the fingernails and fabrics such as wool, leather and silk. Prior to then, I had always been curious about henna and I admired it. So when my birthday came around, I thought, why don't I get it for myself? And I did. I remember my friend Chuma went with me. It was a lovely, windy evening. We went to the Barracks (because lots of Hausa folks live there) and we asked the women where I could get my henna drawn.
(Side Note- Can I just say how friendly and open-minded the Hausa's are? Lord! We Igbo's sure have a lot to learn from them when it comes to people relations.) We were directed to a Mama Aishatu's home. When we got there, she was surprised that an Igbo girl wanted to get henna tattoo, but she was pleased too. She put aside everything else she was doing, wiped her hands on her skirt and sent her daughter to go buy the dye. I think the dye cost like N50 or so. It was in a really tiny container. When the dye was bought, she proceeded to draw one of the most intricate and beautiful floral patterns I had ever seen on my two arms. She drew a floral 'chain' round both of my ankles too. It was beautiful. I'll put up a picture so you'll see. The drawing took her like 2 hours to complete, because it was dark by the time she was done. I really loved it😍. I remember she asked for N300 or N500, I'm not quite sure now, but it wasn't more than N500.
Again, can we talk about just how nice and simple and free-spirited the Hausa's are? I bet if that lady was Igbo (Now, my dear Igbo's, this is not shade. Y'all know I gat mad love for you. But the truth has to be told), firstly, she wouldn't attend to me just then. Uh-uh. She'd tell me to come back later or some other day..."Couldn't I see she was doing stuff before I came? And that besides, that her house isn't a shop..." Secondly, she'd probably talk me to death while drawing the henna- Endless lectures on how henna is such a big deal, how I should consider myself a 'special girl' for getting it, how it symbolises some really deep ish or something.. (Which the sweet Hausa lady didn't do. She only asked why I wanted henna and I told her it was for my birthday and then, she smiled and said that that was lovely). Finally, coming to the price now. Lol.. Y'all know Igbo's and money. I'm pretty sure the least I would have paid for that henna will be three thousand. The very least.
(Disclaimer- Now, I know all of those are stereotypes. And since this post is about the silliness of stereotypes, I feel it's only right that I establish that not all Igbo women are that way. At least, I know my mom isn't)
Anyway, I got the henna on the 7th of April 2016 and the next day was my birthday. I remember waking up the following morning, looking at my arms and beaming widely. I felt brand new, thankful, powerful and like I could do anything in the world. Needless to say, it was the perfect birthday gift to myself. However, when people saw it, some of them felt otherwise. My hostel Porter saw it, frowned, and said it was not befitting to me; that she did not see me as that 'kind of person'. What kind of person exactly she was talking about, I wasn't sure. A random lady who works in my school saw it and asked me if I was in a secret cult. Like openly asked me. It got me thinking why she thought I would tell her even if I was. Did people just freely and openly ask other people if they were cultists these days? Wow. Well, if I had never gotten henna, I wouldn't have known that. So, thank you henna. And thank you too, random uninformed lady. 😒
I wish I had taken the time to carefully chronicle and record the different types of reactions I got from people within the space of the three weeks that I had my henna. Some of them were annoying, some hilarious, and others, downright silly. That experience opened my eyes to a lot of things; To how our society thinks, people's value system, how Outcasts and people whom society has labelled 'not-good-enough' for whatever reasons, feel and experience life.
I remember one day I was in a keke and there was this elderly man that was sitting beside me. He kept staring and staring at my arms and wouldn't look away even when I looked at him. When he was getting close to his stop, he felt he had to speak up. He asked me what I drew on my arms and I told him it was henna. He heaved a deep sigh and asked me why I had done it. I was getting close to my stop already and I was in no mood for an exchange so I just told him that it was because I wanted to. He then started what would be the longest advice session I have ever been in. He said he didn't want to talk before but that he felt he should, seeing how I look like such a marketable young girl.
{Please, my brothers and sisters, how and what makes a young girl marketable? I need to know because before then, I didn't even know I was 'marketable'. Plus, I also need to know the extent of my 'marketability' in order to know how best to harness and maximise this rare, special gift. So please, if you have the marketability gauge, could you be kind enough to let me know in the comment section? Thank you in anticipation and may God bless you 🙏}
The man went ahead to ask if I was a Christian and if I didn't know it was ungodly to make marks on the body...and not only that I even got marks on my body, I got the marks belonging to the people of another religion... He asked me if I've prayed since I got it..that how was my christian walk with God with this kind of mark on my body...does He answer my prayers? Meanwhile, that time, I was having the time of my life with my Saviour. Of course, I had told Him before getting it and He didn't object. But I didn't feel the need to explain myself to this strange, keke preacher man. By the time he was done, I simply said thank you and got down. It felt like all the strength in my body had been sapped out and I just wanted to go home and lay down and sleep. I was more upset with the keke driver who, instead of asking us to get down when he got to the last stop, kept quiet, turned off the ignition and joined in listening to the elderly man, preach. When I got home, I was so tired. I just threw myself on the bed, covered my face with my pillow, and thought about my dear country, Nigeria. Nigeria is a funny place. Nigerians believe that all the old people are wise and should be respected, just like all the poor people are humble and should be pitied. The Nigerian society is a laughable place. Except of course, if you're here and you're one of us and you feel the tiny, intense aches and pinches. We Nigerians, encourage pretence and hypocrisy, but we don't know it. Or maybe we do and we pretend we don't. May God help Nigeria. And I mean this sincerely.
When the woman who had a shop in front of my hostel then, saw the henna, she asked me if my parents had seen what I 'did' to my arms. I told her they had and she shook her head sadly. And now, speaking of my parents, they were quite cool and accepting about it ( I would like to think they are progressive African parents).They only asked if it was permanent and I told them it wasn't. 9th, the Saturday after my birthday, was my cousin Chizoba's traditional marriage and I was in her aso-ebi. We went to her hometown and it was dramatic. All hell was let loose! Cousins, aunties, uncles and random old people quizzed me non-stop about why I got a tattoo. And why was it so big? Had my mom seen it? What did she say? To make matters worse, a few young boys who felt they knew 'what's up', came around saying, "Nne, okwa tattoo gi a oo". Translation: "Girl, this your tattoo is dope". And I'm like, "Please, for the hundredth time, it's not a tattoo!" I was out of breath the whole time, explaining to everyone that henna wasn't a tattoo. That it wasn't permanent. And that no, it wasn't occultic. I literally did nothing else throughout the event but explain and explain. When it was finally time to dance into the arena, I was put in front to lead the procession. And then, the MC had to add salt to injury. He picked up the microphone and announced, "Yes, they are coming. And the girl with the tattoo is in front. Oya, young men, come and make your choice. But leave the one in front o. She is for me because I have a tattoo too." I was furious. But I had to keep dancing and smiling and pretending that I really wanted suitors. And by the way, where did that silly custom come from? Or is it even a custom? The belief that bridesmaids are in search of grooms and therefore, had to condone all sorts of nonsense from aspiring 'husbandmen' on the day of the event. Maybe someday, I'd tell you the story of yet another silly and embarrassing experience I and my sister had at another wedding where we were bridesmaids. But please, if you're male and you're reading this, next time you go to a wedding, don't think that the bridesmaids are 'hungry' for a groom. Don't go harassing or groping them shamelessly. If she doesn't want to give you her number, she doesn't want to give you her number. If you try flirting and she doesn't flirt back, please young man, hold your peace. And also, she is not for sale. Regardless of whatever nonsense the MC says or any stupid stunt he pulls..(where they get these MCs from is what I don't even know. What country do they come from, abeg?)
Anyway, needless to say, in my sister's words, they 'finished' me that day. My sister was like my bodyguard that day, following me everywhere. But anytime we were left alone, she'd laugh and laugh herself to stupor. She even made up a song for me that day:
"Person wey draw henna come village,
I'm sorry for you, I'm sorry for you o
Your own don kpomee!"
Translation:
"Here's to the person who came to the village with henna,
I feel really sorry for you,
Because today you're dead meat!"
I was exasperated. I noticed how even my mom became uncomfortable, giving me side eyes. I can't blame her, I'm sure they were quizzing her too.
But that was twelve months ago. My henna faded before 1st May even and to most folks, I was automatically a 'good' and normal girl again. Smh.
Isn't it funny how we label people?
Don't we see how really silly and ignorant stereotypes are?
Take a moment and think about it.
Well, this year 2017, I thought I would get extra piercings. I already had the normal one-piercing-per-lobe most girls get at birth. But for a while now, I've wanted more. Nothing crazy or wild, but a few more piercings on each ear. I told my sister Chinasa and she was like, "Hmmm. That I should kukuma get tattoo na." But I didn't want a tattoo, I wanted piercings. And I had already decided I was going to get it. My girlfriend Ekamz, have a few extra ones so I asked her where she got them. She said she got some in Abuja and the others in a beauty parlour in Independence Layout, here in Enugu. So I got the address of the place from her and on the 4th, last week Tuesday, I went there.
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