just the right medicine

Accompanying a friend at hospital... We walk into the consulting room and immediately the nurse pounces on me touching the ends of my dreads. She asks if they’re real...firstly I wanted to knock her out for touching me as though I was a piece of meat to be prodded and poked secondly I wanted to say, “No they’re all artificial” but I didn’t...it was my best patronising smile instead. Then the nurse said, ‘an African friend of mine who sometimes is a Jamaican has dreadlocks too, he likes Bob Marley and Burning Spear?!!!’ I was speechless how can you sometimes be a Jamaican????

the whole truth and nothing but the truth

Out shopping with a very good friend when a man walks by and says...
‘They’re the loveliest dreads I've ever seen.’
My friend looks quite surprised by a stranger approaching me and says people really do come up to you and say things about your hair... I say that’s why I have hair encounters... She thought I just made them up...no all true anecdotes thank you very much.

Short back and sides please!

At a cashpoint waiting my turn...dum, dum, dee da... a guy walks up to me and says ‘you need a hair cut!’ Didn’t have the heart to say if you think that’s bad you should see my armpits!!!

Kids do the funniest things!!!

A seven year old girl comes up to me and grabs hold of my longest dread which happens to be child grabbing length and says is this really your hair... I wanted to say no it belongs to Whoopi Goldberg or something like that but I didn’t, perhaps there will be a place for me in heaven after all, she then says what does it smell like and takes a sniff of it before pushing it under my nose and running off.

A bicycle made for two

On Wednesday I received one “respect” and two “dreadlocks” salutations from passersbys but the best one was two guys on a bike one giving a croggy (local Nottingham dialect also known as a lift, a tow, a tu dready or a ride) to the other. They stopped and asked “how long have you been growing them?” I smile a sweet smile and say as I always do “a long time” – well it’s a bit personal divulging how long. Then one of them says, “mine will be as long as yours soon.” His hair was about a centimetre (if that) long. I laugh along with him like it’s the funniest thing I’d ever heard. Why? Because he was so cute. Shame on me!

Its not the size that matters...!!!

At shop...yes again... no not fish...carrot cake this time...anyway moving on...lady expresses her wonderment at the length of my dreads. Then asks “what do you do to it” I reply just wash and go oh and a little bit of hair oil now and then.” She gets excited... “What kind of hair oil?” I think she thinks it’s going to be a magical solution for making her hair grow. I reply “Anything I can get my hands on.” She looks disappointed that I haven’t pinpointed the magical formula for hair growth.

fishy business

Out shopping... buying a piece of fish for my tea...a nice piece of salmon in fact which I’m going to have with fried dumplings... I love fish... but I digress this is not fish encounters!!! Anyhow an elderly woman in the supermarket says... “Hope you don’t mind me asking but how long have you been growing your hair?” I said “well I started to grow them at 15 and I’m now ** yrs old.” She looks at me and then shouts in a very strong Jamaican accent “JESUS CHRIST you only look 19.”

I smile flattered but when she tries to hold on to me because she wants me to wait for her daughter `to finish her shopping i beat a hasty retreat.

Skool Dayz

Working with 7 & 8 year olds today... spend all day having my hair tugged, stroked and generally child handled... my fault... forgot to wear my hat... one girl looked at me all serious and disapproving and then said... ‘Did you really do your hair like that on purpose?’ I reply apologetically with a humble ‘yes’ She shakes her head in disgust and walks away. Children don’t you just love them!

Today’s update...walked into town (takes an hour) half way there a man approaches (sorry no raincoat) says how beautiful my hair is (yes head was swelling) then asks for my number...I decline (probably a nutter) says if he meets me again he will ask me out. Here’s hoping I see him before he sees me.

Also today... in town in a shop...quiet... only ambient music interrupting the silence...until a young child...I’d y about 3 or 4 years old shouts out ‘look mummy look at that hair’... everyone turns to look at me... so much for going by unnoticed!!!

Finally walking back from town...red shoes purchased feeling happy... I hear a man talking behind me ‘look at her he says’ (head getting ready to swell again). Until he says ‘they used to be our slaves until some idiot set them free.’ I was too shocked to turn around. They walk past, three of them... they’re only young...students perhaps...the future... I feel sad...very sad.

Poetic hair biography

This is my poetic hair biography. I will be performing it at the Battersea Arts Centre on Friday 5th and Saturday 6th March.

Dread Dreadlocks

I had to cry for mine
Daddy laid it on the line
Cut those funky dreads
Else find yourself another bed
from my heart I was led

Kicked onto the streets
Sixteen’s supposed to be sweet
Trodding the beat
On my own two feet
Nothing to eat
That was the start
Of me following my heart

Like Samson the strength
increases with the length
of time allowed to grow
Untouched
each new stalk remains
as a vow to my ancestors
I have not forgot,
I will not forget,
until we meet
I’ll walk the streets
if needs be
And shelter under the shade
of my own special tree

I had to cry for mine
Daddy laid it on the line
Called me a filthy headed swine
Said: “you ain’t one of MINE”

Struck from the will cast aside
Churches sang with me abide
Washed me with purified water
Thinking that ought to
Shake the devil out
Cause I must be insane
Not to want to press my tight curls
Into a lifeless mane

Used to let them fly wild,
Running through the rainy streets
Used to let them swing and drip,
now they tickle my hips
When I dance they sway
do back flips,

Wearing them’s a minor
Get them designer
Times change but the 80 binds that
Lay on my head
Do not forget the hurt,
the lies spread
About me and my kind
the dreadlocks dreads

My dreads if they could speak
Would say
No war. Exploitation we deplore
Peace love and unity
Needs to be a certainty
That’s the language of the trees leaves
But it got lost on the breeze
Don’t believe the hype
of the stereotype
I smoke only from the peace pipe
Prophesied by Garvey, he said,

Gather yourselves
into a cultural army
Protect yourselves
with pride and confidence,
Shield yourselves
in your own definitions
Fight for Self worth,
and self-recognition
Use only bullets of truth
for your ammunition
Let them all know
it isn’t just a whim
Your desire not to trim

One day they’ll trail to my feet
And I’ll carry them over my shoulder
Like a long lost friend
To the very end
Waving a flag of red gold and green
Upholding the vow
Of the Nazarene

They’re all mine
as nature intended
These velvety black vines
represent me, uniquely
Forging their way through
the grime and slime
and the changing times
of daily living

One day I’ll forget the time
I had to cry for mine

Up close and personal!

I get asked lots of questions about my hair on a daily basis. Mostly the questions are simple how long has it been growing? Or do i ever cut it? Or do i wash it kind of questions, which I can cope with quite well. However on one particular day a random man ... and it is always random people approaching me... came up to me and stood within a centimetre of invading my personal space and asked,
"When you make love does your hair get all tangled up in the proceedings?"
I know! I thought that myself. How can a total random ask such a personal question. Needless to say I didn't entertain him and walked off with a disgusted look on my face, which I do quite well. The answer just in case you were wondering is...
mind your own bees wax!!!

French connection

This encounter happened at Jacques Bar in St Denis, Paris one Friday evening in April. I was standing at the bar waiting to be served when a random stranger said. "Your hair is beautiful." Pleased with being complimented I replied. "Thank you, your hair is nice too." (It wasn't all that but there's nothing wrong in being polite, is there?) We both then embark upon a conversation, you know the usual stuff, like why a British born Jamaican of African descent is standing in a bar in Paris speaking to a French man and his Italian friend... nothing too heavy!

Then his friend who had been eyeing me up the whole time tries to touch my hair (if i had a penny...) Anyhow I say "Please don't touch my hair." He then replies, "I was only touching the ends (hmmm!). Just to mix things up a bit I say, "Only my lover is allowed to touch my hair." This he understands and replies, "Ah yes I'm sorry" (note to self must remember to use lover line again). He then puts his hand in his pocket... and pulls out... some weed. Yes weed. And offers it me as an apology for touching my hair. I decline and we end up talking about the French royalists including Louis XVII mysteriously disappearing and his heart being found in the Basilique.

some people ask the strangest questions

I was at a faith event at a school in Nottingham (the school shall remain nameless) a teacher came up to me and asked: "How do you wash your hair?" With a stunned look on my face I replied, "With shampoo and water!" The teacher replied "Oh."


Sometimes the questions are not so strange, for example, I was in the toilet at the Victoria coach station in London when a random stranger came up to me (I wasn't giving out a George Michael vibe honestly). She said, "how long has it been since you cut your hair?" I said "I've never cut my hair." She accepted that response and then said, "your hair is beautiful" to which I replied "Thank you."

Then a second woman came up to me (George Michael would have been proud!) and said "Is your hair natural?" I said: "Yes." she then said, "Is it your hair?" Although I thought this was a strange follow up question given the first I, in my teach the world mode said, "Yes it is my hair."

However my mother earth I'm all understanding and all giving persona disappeared when she leaned forward and tried to touch my hair... she hadn't even washed her hand after coming out the loo...urghh. I did my Usain Bolt dash and was outta there in a flash!

Hair as a symbol of power

I've just got back from seeing Avatar, now not only was it fantastic in terms of technology, the 3D aspect was mind blowing, but I also loved the way hair had a symbolic representation. The Avatars hair kind of connected them to nature... 'I see you.'

Having dreads is a reminder for me to respect nature and stay in tuned with my spirituality.

Dreadlock noun (used with a plural verb)
a hairstyle, esp. among Rastafarians, in which the hair is worn in long, 'rope like' locks.

origin:
1955-60; DREAD + LOCK

pl. n.
Dreadlocks
1. natural hairstyle in which the hair is twisted into long matted or rope like locks.
2. A similar hairstyle consisting of long thin braids radiating from the scalp.

Dread locked adj.

This blog has been created to share all the amusing anecdotes from my daily hair encounters. It never ceases to amaze me how fascinating people find my dreadlocks. At the last count I had eighty-two dreads ranging from three inches to three foot long. It's difficult to be any more precise than this as new ones spring up randomly and old ones are culled occasionally (car doors, desk draws...etc are a real danger to the trailing dread). I started to keep a hair diary in 2005 and hope you enjoy the encounters I have had and continue to have. Hairs to more encounters!!! Get here..hair.. ah well I tried!