white women can braid

a few days ago we went to eldoret to buy more crafts from robert, the owner of a craft store that gets their stuff from all over kenya. he has a wide variety of things to choose from that we can buy in large quantities.

it was a productive shopping day filled with buying both for TI, and also for friends and family back home that we wanted to get gifts for.

while in eldoret, lauren and ina took michele and i to the salon to get our toe nails painted. here, the nail and hair salons are called saloons.

we four girls went to the saloon (oh man, it never gets old typing that extra O in there) to get our nails painted. walking through eldoret was fun... the typical clicking tongues, and near accidents as people stopped to stare, and/or ran into the person in front of them on the street, since they'd stopped to stare at us too. haha.

we walked down an alley or two, and i took up residence on a rickety bench, and copied lauren's example. i put my foot up on the edge of the bench next to mine, and presented my filthy dusty feet to the man with the polish in his hand.

by the time he was done with my toe nails, it looked like they'd been AIRBRUSHED... he is THAT good with his tiny little design brush. i got a flower with detailed petals on each nail... it was amazing. he was amazing.

the wooden bench was in a 4 foot wide hallway where other women were sitting on rickety benches as well, waiting for their appointment at one of the 10 hair saloons that lined that same hallway.

even with the 20 or more women watching, i was just astounded by this man with the magical talent at painting nails. there was no massage... no oil or lotion or fixing of the crappy foot callouses that we women hate to admit that we EVER get, because they are just OH so feminine, eh? nope... none of that. just the painting of nails... and i felt like a queen when he was done.

in kenya, it's the little stuff that makes you feel girly... especially if you're dripping sweat and feel filthy.

as i paid the magical man 50 shillings (.75 cents) for his great job, he moved on to ina, and i sat there letting my nails dry.

a lady in the hair saloon across from me caught my eye, and told me she wanted to braid my hair. the hallway went quiet as the 20 women sitting on their benches waited for my answer... little did i know how i'd throw them for a loop when i replied with "oh... no thank you, i can braid my own hair."

holy mother... you wouldve thought i just said i could do brain surgery right then and there in that little hallway. the women started murmering, and the nail guy stopped painting inas nails, and the saloon lady said "your own? you can braid your own? not good though, eh?"

i must admit, i got a little sassy on the inside and thought of a comeback, but instead just decided to demonstrate.

right there on my rickety bench with my wet toe nails that were drying, i started french braiding my long, straight, highlighted hair. you know when you see multiple people stick their heads out on the side of a door, but you can only see one body? thats what it looked like from my seat.... just kenyan women striving to see the white girl braid her hair from their wooden benches lining the hallway.

some even stood to get a better look.

when i was halfway done, the saloon ladies from each shop had stopped what they were doing, to watch me. seriously, their customers had their hair sticking straight up with ungodly crap that looked like a mix of baby powder and vaseline, in it... and their hairdressers were holding hair dryers that were still on, and just pointing them at the wall. some came into the hall or stuck their heads out to see what i was doing.

when i was done, the lady who had offered to braid my hair came over to inspect my job and she just clicked and murmured in swahili to the other ladies before asking what my "smart" braid was called...

i told her it was called a french braid, and i couldve sworn as i walked out of the hallway with the girls a few minutes later, that the same saloon lady was trying out her new kind of braid. i wonder if her customer had requested it, or if she just decided that she would try to imitate me...

that's the "smart french braid" that the white girl taught her.

who knew i would be a trend setter in africa?