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Ade's Journal Part 6

Ade's Journal Part 6
My Valentine & The Elegance Of A Clean Breakup

Ade's Journal Part 5

Ade's Journal Part 5
My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss

Ade's Journal Part 4

Ade's Journal Part 4
A Scorpion is not a Lobster

Ade's Journal Part 3

Ade's Journal Part 3
My Insane Week Before Valentine

Ade's Journal Part 2

Ade's Journal Part 2
He Had The Guts To Come Back

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Wednesday, 14 March 2018

Sweet King Prawns Talk


   The chef flipped and tossed into the air the shakers that held the dry spice and no one noticed. I cheer and scream  and just want him to get into it. He smiled as she smiled and the tricks got harder and more intense and I hailed the performance, even though my hunger pangs got larger.
More was on the plate and I got distracted by new words and forget about the chef, until a high tower flame surfaces and lights up the dim room. This was performance art.
I did not want to eat one and leave out the best, so I wait. Patience pays off as the array of white meat got more flavor filled and bath in spices. This was going to be a feast of tastes led by a generous display of aromas. And my excitement climbed and peaked and stayed there, the taste of the fresh Atlantic ocean lingered as I but into the king prawns and the juicy rich grass sipped into my tongue as I chummed down on the boneless beef.  It helped that my childhood friends laughed and the familiar sound of life unfiltered and not airbrushed filled the air. I was back to eight year old me, wild and free and full of imagination.
My mind conjured up stories I had long forgotten in my creative mind, epic journeys I embarked upon in hilly Plateau state. I was present and absent as the creative juice flowed and I filled up my stomach and my mind. My thirst escalates as I quench it with orange juice I kept diluting to help the tangy taste last longer. Is it jumbo or king., I heard her say. It's Sweet King Prawns Talk, fresh as the sea breeze on a cool evening. This is just the beginning...
 I didn't fall asleep today, no. Instead I binged and ate as if I have been dry fasting all week. I did not expect to go out today, but Nnoye was bent on having a day without her kids. It was mature of her to talk like that and really, since Ajoke and I made the effort to get her looking nice. This was the first time since she had her baby that she made an effort to look like she was going out. I on the other hand just endured the most excruciating pain my scalp has felt since I started putting relaxer on my tender scalp. It got burned so bad, what appeared to be water ran down my scalp to my forehead. It was a great disappointment because my plan was to wrap my own hair and show off how long it had grown and how healthy it was. The burns were so intense, my perfectly permed hair sunk and rose above my uneven swollen scalp. Some had glued to my skull and behind my neck was burnt and tight.
I was almost in tears as I share the news with my sister via video WhatsApp call.
'You know this time for your hair is always horrible'
 Her words were true, Ola knew me like her twin even though we were just a year and two weeks apart. Well that's a lot of time apart but we were closer than the twins I knew. She had hair fuller than mine and healthier and never experienced hair breakage out of the country. I on the other hand had to intensify my hair treatment any time I left the country because the weather always dried out my already dry tough hair.
'Lucky you', I always praised.
But something strange happened, she had hair breakage and decided to go natural. I joined her for two years and quit when I could no longer comb my hair. Mine was stubborn and my scalp the most tender most hair stylist have ever encountered. So I was back now for two years to putting the torture device back on my head. Usually, three months apart and it was the most I could go, because my hair always returned back to its natural state. This time it was bad and this party I had agreed to go for had to be attended.
I stared at my hair and promised never again, never again will I go back to putting this wicked gel that straightened my hair on my head.
'What other alternative do u have?'
 It was a question my only sister and I pondered on and the answer made me chuckle a bit.
'Hot comb'
 I heard my sister's words and tried to hear her.
'It works?'
'Just once a month by a professional'
 I listened and smiled, I have used hot combs before. Infact, before relaxers, that was what my mum used.
Not often but scarcely, enough to make styling my hair easy but not enough to kill my hair.
'Let me do mine first and then you can try'
 That's my sister, she offered herself as a sacrifice for our own good.
'How come we didn't think of it before now?'
'Well our hair length is at that junction we need longer hair routines and much more care. Experts will show us how...'
She was referring to YouTube channels with years of filming and ladies with our unique hair texture and tender scalp.
'So what will you do today?', Ola asked.
'A wig and a wide brim hat'
'Why a hat?'
'I plan to dance the running man and because I'm not going to be able to use pins to clamp down the wig. Or make it tight over my traumatized scalp. Eh, a wide brim hat will do...'
 We both laugh and then Nnoye steps into my room  and then says hi.
'Let me let you ladies prepare for your groove'
 As she cut the line, I missed her loads already.
'Your hair really retouched...'
'Yes but at what cost?'
'So you want to join them'
 It's interesting how we make it an us versus them when it comes to black girls and our hair.
'I am doing what is best for me, my scalp and I. There is no us versus them'
 As if she didn't hear me, Nnoye continued to speak.
'But your hair is so long now and silky'.
'And my scalp traumatized'
'Hot comb will burn your scalp...'
'Not if the professional, places a guard to protect my scalp'
 So she heard everything I said and just decided to ignore me.
'Ade, I need to tell you something'
'Let us get going'
'I'm pregnant'
 I chuckled and find my wig and brush it.
'Its not Daniel's'
'Nnoye abeg' I no get time...', the joke did not flow.
She shows me a pregnancy test stick and as I stare at it, my wig slips from my fingers and drops.

  Oyinbo repete, this is a lot of words and a lot to take in all at once. Did she not just push a baby out last two months?

**"ADE'S JOURNAL" Season 3 Episode 9**
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Adebusola Ukayat Elegbede is a Playwright and Content creator with a passion for real life challenges. Born in Kaduna state and lives in Lagos Nigeria, she has a passion for story telling from the perspectives of characters in conflicting situations. I started out on the New Writing Project in Nigeria with the British Council Lagos Nigeria and The Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square U.K. My passion for creating stories led to comic books, television drama's and an online journal on my website (busolaelegbede.com). As part of the WPIC in Stockholm Sweden 2012, the experience has forged life long friends and ignited my passion as a volunteer and advocate for human rights and the United Nations 17 Sustainable Development Goals.

Follow @Busola Elegbede