Hey, my eyes are down here: Nigeria diary 2

Because Nigeria is closer to the equator, the level of heat there was pretty intense, and this is coming from someone who has grown up in hot and humid Houston my entire life. In order to survive in the climate, most Nigerian women wear their hair one of two ways. The first is a close short buzz cut style. The second is in braids, which I’m of course very familiar with. According to my mom and many cousins, Nigerian women’s hair doesn’t typically grow super long or thick, and if it does, it’s worn in braids as a method of convenience and protection. Going to Nigeria, I already planned to get my hair braided because I knew it would be way cheaper than getting it done at home. I planned to do in Lagos within the first few days of the trip, but a packed schedule led to it being delayed until we got to Port Harcourt. This meant that for the first week, I was sporting my big, curly hair in the Nigerian heat. I expected it to get annoying to deal with, and when it did, I threw it up in a scarf, but what I didn’t expect was the level of hardcore staring my hair would garner. My face and clothes probably already screamed “not from here”, but my hair confirmed it.

Starting from when we touched down in Lagos, my hair drew numerous comments from multiple women in the airport. They would make comments in Igbo or Pidgin English, and I’d ask my mom for confirmation of their shock at my hair (I understand a decent amount of Igbo, but very little Pidgin). This phenomenon didn’t let up for the next week. Any time we were walking down the street, in a grocery store, at a restaurant etc., I was getting stared at. By no means were these short glances; people would stare, I’d feel their eyes and turn, and they would continue to stare at my face and hair. It was supposed to be flattering I’m sure, and many people did verbally compliment me instead of just staring, but after a few days I grew very weary of feeling someone’s gaze on me constantly. At one point in a store, I expressed to my mom how irritated I was, and she went “Well they just think you and your hair are beautiful”. I said “I know but I’m so over being stared at”, to which she joked “You wouldn’t be able to handle being famous” and said that I should’ve printed out cards with my Instagram to hand to my admirers. Classic move from my mom, always trying to network…