Requirements
Method Take the frightened 11 year old to the GP, who will then inform the Father that stress is a contributory factor to the MAA. This will activate the ‘telling off’ function, because who has ever heard of a stressed 11 year old child? Following the diagnosis, the GP will refer to the Dermatologist as the GP didn’t go to Skin School. The Dermatologist will then inform the family that he is ‘busy so you’ll have to wait 2 months before an appointment’. A month is sure to lead to greater loss of hair (1 patch became 2). The Mother will then take the child to see the Dermatologist, but prior to him touching her child’s head, she must firmly insist that the Dermatologist washes his hands (because he clearly had no intention of washing them). The Dermatologist will nod and confirm the diagnosis, then make an appointment for the child to receive appropriate treatment. A month is adequate to ensure that both patches are larger and require ‘creative’ hair styles and the first patch made it to her temple. The Mother will dutifully present the child at the appointed time; then again insist that the Dermatologist wash his hands before touching the child (he was miffed and was about to protest but, seeing the mother’s frown, closed his mouth and opted to comply). At this point, the needles come out resulting in screaming and general hysteria from the child who has not been told that needles will be involved. Being a Nurse Tutor, the Mother was well aware, but had chosen not to share this information with the child. This is why you’re only just hearing it too! The Dermatologist will then take those evil needles and administer a total of 8 cortisone shots – 4 at regular intervals around the patch. It will be painful. For 3 months the child will be made to have the shots. She will cry like a child with no hope. Cream Soda won't cure the pain or calm her nerves, so the Parents will resort to that well known parenting method – the threat. The threat to:
The Father will come for the last 2 months until the child’s cries break him and the 3rd month’s treatment will be her last. My name is AfroBren and I have Mild AA. And I STILL have depressions in my skull caused by the cortisone injections all those years ago.
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From a young age, I was taught that having beautiful hair was something to aspire to. The ‘stretchingcomb’ would come out for church and other special occasions that required fancy hair, whilst the ‘scratchingcomb’ was wielded to prepare my hair for school which comprised of mainly African threading and, if you had an auntie ‘with hands’ (insert someone able to cornrow/plait without destroying your edges), then you had cornrows or plaits. My hair was long and healthy - perfect for flower girl duty! In retrospect, it was all due to my Mum’s hard work, and when I asked my Mum about the mixes she made for my hair, they were some of those that I have re-discovered and am using in my current hair journey: castor oil, coconut oil and a touch of glycerine (but not when she wanted to stretch my hair because glycerine made it revert to its curly state – a fringe no-no). My hair flourished under my Mum’s care, so I’m going to make sure that I refer to her wisdom going forward so I can go back to feeling like herinthephotograph. Look at the confidence in that pose! Oh to be that self-assured again! Where I come from (yes, I say that a LOT!), dogs often move around unattended and as such, are often treated with suspicion. If it’s a dog from your ‘line’ or the row of homes where you live, then you know what you’re dealing with. Either it’s the friendly dog from your friend’s house or the 'biting' dog that belongs to the home with the juiciest guavas and is therefore viewed with fear and distrust. Don’t get me wrong, we still taunted the 'biting' dog as we walked past, but you either had to be the fastest in the group in case it found a hole in the fence and you had to scarper, or you make sure that someone slower than you was between you and the fence holding the dog back. Dog’s from other ‘lines’ or emaliyinini are ALWAYS greeted with suspicion. You never know what you’re getting because it may just harmlessly trot past you, or it could be a rabid stray that will come for you! For me, alopecia is like a dog from emaliyinini and my journey with alopecia began when I was in Grade 6. I’ll never forget it for two reasons: 1. I had fainted at school and was terrified that I would forever be known as the “fainting girl” 2. The subsequent investigation of my head for bumps resulted in the discovery of “the spot patch” Sounds harmless, doesn’t it? A spot is something small – nothing to fear at all, right? Not if it’s alopecia. A spot-sized bald patch is like taking a walk down the road to your friend’s house, relaxed, enjoying your surroundings and feeling quite content about life. Then out of the corner of your eye, you see a dog. But is it from your line or not? As children we were taught that a good sign that a dog is rabid is if it’s foaming at the mouth. But that involves watching as it gets closer to see if you have to leg it! And with alopecia, you’re always spotting dogs from emaliyinini so you’re on edge because you know it's a dog, but how bad will it be? So you’re always running your fingers over your scalp “checking”. Is that your hair smoothed out or is it a spot patch? And when your long suffering husband finally confirms that this time, the 1000th time you’ve asked, it IS a spot patch, then the panic sets in. You keep your eye on it to see if it’s growing. Problem is you can never tell if the spot is getting bigger until it’s MUCH bigger. And the knowledge that what you’ve used to treat it before may not work this time is frustrating to the power of 1000! My name is AfroBren. I have lived with rabid hair dogs since I was 11 and a few months ago, I found another. What to do now? There are certain things in life that I will NEVER get over. For instance, not turning around and looking when a car horn “toots” in the road. If they know you, they’ll shout either YOUR name, or address you as “Child/Mother of [insert the name of whichever parent or child you belong to here]. Avoid letting your neighbours see your white underwear/cloth nappies on the line unless they are WHITE! Off white is a sign of soft hands. Don’t have soft hands. This is a sign of being a lazy woman and a no-no and word will get out and you’ll never get married! Being judgmental about ashy legs/ankles/feet. This is commonly known as umdhlopha where I hail from, and is frowned upon. A sign of not being really clean, of course. Being equally judged in the playground about “shiny” Vaseline skin. An obvious attempt to cover ashy skin and a shame for those who had mothers who wanted to avoid the previous judgement and as such, were sent to school with a shiny face and dry ears. Using water like there’s a drought. In England. During the worst flooding for TIME! Shouting at your children to check their shoes for scorpions before they put their feet in them. In Winter. In England. And seeing snakes in the grass out of the corner of your eye and quick-stepping away from the danger. Then having to call out to your husband because you forgot to take him with you. It’s at time like this that I regret teaching my husband certain Zulu words. And ‘speaking eyes’. It will take a while to get over his eye roll as he held up the stick and shouted bakithi at me! My earliest memory of having my hair done as a young African child involved the pain of having my dry scalp "scratched". For those of you unfamiliar with the art of said "scratching", this is how it goes:
Method Scratcher is seated on their perch whilst the Scratchee sits at their feet, preferably facing AWAY from the Scratcher. Once the towel is positioned to protect knees and shoulders of both parties, the Scratcher then clamps the Scratchee's head firmly between their knees to prevent unsanctioned movement by the Scratchee (pleas to free folded ears are ignored). Using the tail of the comb, open "lines" from the top to the nap of the Scratchee - as if preparing to cornrow. Pressure applied varies depending on how inconvenienced the Scratcher feels. Once the line is open, angle the teeth of the comb along the line at approximately 30° - any more will result in more pain than necessary. A sure-fire way of knowing that the Scratcher doesn’t like you. Bleeding scalps are common and regarded by many as a sign of a GOOD scratching! The teeth of the comb are then vigorously applied to the scalp in a quick side to side action so as to dislodge the dry flakes, before they are then briskly brushed off the hair. This action is repeated until the scalp is completely scratched. N.B: The Scratchee is at the mercy of the Scratcher for the ENTIRE scratching session and for well after. From being sent to the bedroom to get the comb, to having your head pushed over the bath as they scrub your pulsing scalp with shampoo and cold water, before your hair is then sectioned, liberal amounts of petroleum jelly applied to the scalp, after which it is threaded for the coming school week. Obviously I’ve moved on from this as an adult – right? Wrong! My husband does it for me – I told him that in my culture, it’s a form of scalp massage that husbands perform for their wives to prevent headaches and it’s important to respect my culture. It worked. Until some jealous so and so told him otherwise! I should have scratched my sister’s head harder when I had the chance… I was born under the African sun, and raised in the ways of ubuntu from birth. Schooled in Zulu and educated in the Queen's language, I am daughter, sister, wife and mother of 3.
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