I always get amused whenever I read an article about weaves, and how undesirable Kenyan men find them.
I get amused primarily because weaves, no matter how unsightly our men claim to find them, are going nowhere.
Guys, you may curse, threaten, roll your eyes, sniff, give them dirty looks, or bad-mouth them, but weaves are here to stay. They are here to stay because they are the best thing that happened to women since sliced bread.
To begin with, they are convenient, flexible, versatile, and have the ability to make just about any woman look glamorous — depending on how well they are fixed, that is.
Depending on her mood, a woman could spot long, flowing hair today, a short bob the following week, or a curly do the next month.
And you dare say weaves should be banned!
By now, you must have figured out that the weave and I are close friends. I have no apologies to make for this friendship.
You see, like the next woman, I readily embrace anything that has the potential to make my life easier, something that offers me convenience.
My handy weaves offer me just this — that is why I intend to nurture this relationship for many years to come.
The question that always gets asked whenever a hate feature on weaves is written (it is always written by a man of course) is why women cannot just be satisfied with their natural hair, the hair that God gave them.
To this I ask, imagine a Kenya filled with women sporting afros, bald heads, or closely cropped hair like yours.
Boring and uninspiring, right?
And no, it has nothing to do with wanting to look like European women, who wear hair extensions.
You must have come across that tall tale that has been doing rounds in the Internet for some time now, about that worm-infested weave.
The tale goes that a certain woman bought a weave made from hair harvested from a corpse.
Unknown to her, the hair had parasite eggs which — in the cosy warmth of her shop-bought hair — hatched, bringing forth an army of worms that burrowed into her skull, giving her endless headaches.
No, incredibly, she did not die if you’re wondering.
Anyway, last week on Friday when I arrived home, my three-year-old son exclaimed, “Mummy, niliona nywele kama yako kwa TV – ilikuwa na dudu mingi!”
Apparently, he had seen an energetic dramatisation on TV by some comedians, showing the skin crawling bugs that supposedly thrive in women’s weaves.
It could be my imagination, but since then I could swear that the impressionable boy has been looking at my weave in a suspicious manner.
He is not even four yet, but he is already developing a negative attitude towards a woman’s best friend. Sigh!