<p>In a hurry, I tidied up the shop, cleaned the tiles, and the large counter displaying various hair oils and creams used after hair steaming. I sat down and picked up the hat I had been crocheting but hadn’t finished. As I was working, Aunty Sailuba arrived. She handed me a bag of dambu (a traditional dish), which I opened and started eating while drinking water until I was full.</p><p>Aunty Sailuba turned on a small radio, and we began enjoying some music. Soon, three young women entered. I recognized one of them, as she was a regular customer who came for hair treatments, but the other two were strangers to me.</p><p>"Welcome! Please have a seat. Sarah, bring them some cold water. Watsima, it’s been a while since you last came. I was expecting you," Aunty Sailuba said warmly, her face beaming with her usual charm, which made her customers feel at home.</p><p>They all sat down, and Watsima, touching her hair, said, “Honestly, Aunty Sailuba, my hair is completely damaged. Look at how it’s become. That’s why I’m here—to have it properly treated. We have a wedding coming up for one of our friends.”</p><p>I handed each of them a sachet of cold water before turning my eyes to Watsima’s hair, which had thinned considerably and lost length compared to the last time she visited.</p><p>Aunty Sailuba began examining Watsima’s hair and said, "Of course your hair is damaged, Watsima. You don’t visit the salon regularly. If only you came often, you’d see how long and healthy it could grow. Let me show you a new hair growth product. I’ll use it on you after washing your hair, and if you like it, you can buy it." She went to her table, picked up a small bottle, and handed it to Watsima before asking, “Are these your friends?”</p><p>"Yes, they’re the ones I told you about—we’re known as the three inseparables," Watsima replied.</p><p>Aunty Sailuba smiled and said, “I see! You even resemble each other. Won’t they also get their hair done?”</p><p>Watsima turned to her friends and said, “Why are you both so quiet? This one wants braids, and the other says she wants a weave that blends with her natural hair.”</p><p>Aunty Sailuba laughed and said, “Sarah, braid her hair neatly. She’s new here, and I want her to have a style that will attract more customers for us.”</p><p>The girl assigned to me frowned and said, "This little girl? I thought you were going to do my hair yourself." She looked displeased.</p><p>Aunty Sailuba reassured her, “I only suggested Sarah to save time, but if you want me to do it, no problem. Watsima, sit down so I can wash your hair, and when I’m done, I’ll weave in the extensions for your friend.”</p><p>Since Watsima knew me well, she didn’t argue and took a seat. I started washing her hair. After towel-drying it, I applied some oil before placing her under the hairdryer. I then turned my attention to the one who wanted the weave. "Did you bring your extensions, or do you want to buy them here?" I asked.</p><p>"I’ll buy them here. You do sell them, right?" she asked, and I confirmed. I brought her a variety of colors to choose from. After she selected one, I began weaving the extensions into her hair. It took a long time, as it was challenging.</p><p>When I checked Watsima’s hair, it was already dry. I turned off the dryer and brought some oil to apply to her hair. However, I was struck by how shiny and straight her hair looked. A sudden idea crossed my mind—I silently said in my heart, "Grow longer, hair!" To my surprise, her hair immediately grew longer! I smiled to myself but didn’t dare try it again.</p><p>Watsima broke my thoughts, saying, "Are you going to fix my hair or not? I need to leave!" Quickly, I applied the oil and styled her hair.</p><p>Aunty Sailuba commented, “See? Your hair has grown longer after the treatment. People don’t realize there’s a difference between washing your hair at home and coming to the salon.”</p><p>Watsima, thrilled, admired her now-lengthened ponytail. Only I knew the secret behind it.</p><p>After finishing the other girl’s hair as well, Aunty Sailuba complimented me, “Well done, young girl! You’ve done excellent work.”</p><p>However, the girl whose hair I braided frowned and said, “Your little assistant is filthy. Look at her—she looks like a beggar, and her dark skin looks dirty!”</p><p>Aunty Sailuba defended me, saying, “No, don’t say that! I called her over in a hurry today, but she’s actually very clean.”</p><p>The girl laughed and pointed at my hair, saying, “And look at her own hair—it’s like a rat’s nest! No wonder most salon workers have no hair of their own.”</p><p>By this point, I was furious but kept silent. I simply glared at her and thought to myself, "May your hair fall out!" I focused on her hair, feeling anger course through me, as a strange sensation filled my eyes.</p><p>When I returned home, I found that my grandmother wasn’t around, so I fetched water to bathe. Later, I helped Aunty Hinda sell food, but my day remained clouded by the insults I endured earlier.</p><p>That night, my stomach began churning, and I vomited foam. My grandmother gave me medicine, but I couldn’t shake the lingering bitterness in my heart.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
