Hair today, gone tomorrow
by Loreli

I conducted an interview with a member of Accra's upper class on Friday under the guise of getting my hair cut.

That's not really the truth of it.  I decided that after 9 months it was desperately time to cut off the rebellious portions of my hair for fear that they would incite the healthy, normal hair to their cause.  That cause being to make me look and act like a sheep dog.

It just so happened that I benefitted from an interview of the salon's owner simply by being in the right place at the right time.  I was the first customer of the morning. 

I'll call the owner Janice.  Not necessarily because I want to protect her identity, but because her name was the one thing we didn't talk about.

"Good morning!" Janice Is very cheery and insists on getting my name spelled and pronounced correctly.  "Is it Laura Coltrane?" she asks.

"No, it's Lori Cockram, C-O-C-K-R-A-M," I respond... but wait a minute, who is supposed to be conducting this interview!

Of course, Janice thinks it is a hideous name and tells me so.  I tell her that she isn't the first one to say so, and what can I do, my husband gave it to me as a wedding gift. 

The salon is quaint and bright and cool and has lots of promo pictures of white people up which, I'll admit, relieves me.  Despite my fears, my ingrained politically correctness had kept me from asking directly if the stylists have any experience cutting Caucasian hair.

I tell Janice I'm not really looking for a style (major inward conflict happens when I say this because, yes, OF COURSE, I want a fabulous style, but the nature of my work, well, it prevents me). I tell her I always wear my hair in a ponytail, so please, just cut the worst of it off. 

Janice says that I must be Canadian because I opened the door like I was sorry for it and my accent is softer than an American.

"Are you expecting many customers this morning?" I shift the focus off me and the interview starts.

"Unfortunately business has been slow lately," Janice replies.

"Oh no, why is that?" I ask.

"It's because I cater to expatriates and you people always leave after two or three years so I am always in the process of building up my clientele.  I'm getting too old for it, though."

Janice looks like she is in her 50s, but if I can make a generalization here, most black women I meet age very well and she is probably really 102.  She's classy.  She has her own hair cropped close to her head.  She is wearing large, funky earrings and a basic lime green T and white slacks.  She has three other employees working this morning and they are all in uniform, black pants and white top. 

I ask her when she started her business and Janice is happy to share her history with me.  She moved from Ghana to the UK as a young person.  She lived in Europe for most of her adult life.  She learned the business and then worked up through the system until she was managing a large salon in the UK.  From there she decided that she would return and open her own business in Accra .  She says it's been about 12 years since she opened this salon.

She sighs a lot when she tells the most recent part of her story.  I ask her if it's been difficult for her. 

"Business in Ghana is never easy," she says.  "It is hard to do anything.  The prices for gas jumped again this morning.  How do they expect us to survive?  I have to run a generator all the time because the electricity is always failing.  It is costing too much to keep this place open.  But do you think the government cares?  I think they have no idea.  How can the President know anything, he is always travelling!  Do you think he feels it when the power goes out all the time?  No, because he has someone to always be running his generator so he stays cool and happy and he has someone who does his accounting so he doesn't know the cost and he wouldn't care anyway because the people cover his bill.  He doesn't feel it and so he doesn't care."

Janice extends her rant to Ghana's social structures. "And there is so much bureaucracy!  Meaningless bureaucracy!  Do you know I have to register my business every year?  Every year!  Each time I get angry about it and I tell them so.  In a loud voice I tell them that this is a ridiculous exercise! And always I have people waiting in line who agree with me. They waste so much time on paperwork here and for what?"

I can relate and tell her we'd experienced a similar issue when we registered for municipal waste disposal.  We signed up for the service, but they never showed up.

"And they never will!  You will even pay and they will give you a ridiculous excuse that their trucks are broken down.  So maintain them, I say!  I once had 50 garbage bags piled up waiting for them.  I took a picture and threatened to go to the newspaper with it.  Of course they came then, but the same thing started all over again.  I would not wait to accumulate 50 garbage bags again.  You don't want the maggots to come.  Next will be rats and then you have a problem."

Janice goes on to say that Ghana is paradise, but its people have wasted it.  She says, "Look at you.  You don't even hardly get sun for 8 months, but you've done it.  You've succeeded.  We live in the land of milk and honey and we are starving."

I ask her whether she thinks there is a solution.

"We have to keep voting in new government.  That's the beauty of democracy, that we can change things if they aren't working.  But I worry about the people here who don't seem to understand that.  They are deceived and think the government will save them.  I tell them they're crazy!  'Who is this government you talk about?' I ask them.  Then I tell them, 'YOU are government!'"

I tell Janice about the fabulous young Ghanaians I've met who, without having been abroad, know that changes need to be made.  They are starting to question the culture, but more importantly they are asking what their part is in the future of this country.  As I'm telling her this, I think of the small group we host in our home every Thursday.  Each week I see them digging into the truth of the Bible and asking tough questions about their future.

Well, I'm happy to hear it." she says.  "Young people like yourself have to work harder than we do.  I was just hoping I'd see some changes before I die, but I doubt that will happen."

I tell her that she still has an important voice as a Ghanaian.  She says that's what all my people say, which makes me wonder how often she has this discussion.

Janice decides to ask me what I'm doing in Ghana anyway.

I quickly search through my head for the most concise answer, which doesn't come out that concise. "I'm here with the Free Methodist Church.  My husband and I are facilitating a partnership between our church back home and our sister church here.  We carrying out a building project in Ablekuma for a school/church plant."

"ABLEKUMA!  Where is that?"  She says.

"Just west of the city," I reply.

"And where do you live?" she wonders.

"Dansoman."

"DANSOMAN!  You're brave.  And you know this place better than me.  I stick to Central Accra.  It's safer."

It surprises me to hear her say that since she seems like a woman who is in the know.  She has formulated a lot of opinions, has travelled all over Europe, but doesn't know that 40 minutes away is neighbourhood that's just as safe as the tourist district... if not safer.  And there's that group of fabulous young people who meet there once a week who talk about making real changes in themselves and in their country.  Of course, there's no grocery stores or high-class salons in Dansoman...

While I am on that train of thought, she starts into her next topic.

"Churches.  You know, there are too many of them in Accra."

"I know," I admit this to her because it was one of the biggest surprises of coming here.  There is a church on every corner.  Most nights, I hear their competing services invade my home.  Sunday mornings, it looks as though the entire city is dressed in their best and headed in all different directions.  

Janice says, "We do church well in Accra.  It is our biggest enterprise.  Look how we can build churches and attend faithfully to services, but somehow we can't pick up the garbage off the street or feed the hungry." 

So let me ask you," she says and I panic slightly, "why doesn't the church make a difference?"

Again I search for a concise answer.  I don't think she's looking for a speech on the state of the church in Ghana and the role of the believer or how I'm still figuring this stuff out, but have my theories, and certainly a testimony of God's power in my life...  But I tell her anyway that this the tragedy of the church here.  It looks like a growing business without lasting impact, which makes me wonder who is listening to God. 

Just then another customer walked in, a British lady, who actually looked 102.  Janice leaves me immediately with a stylist and quickly attends to her new customer.

"Oh Janice!" the lady cries in a high-pitched voice as she wrings her hands, "I've just now decided that I've had enough of this place.  My water pump has broken and they can't come fix it till tomorrow.  I believe that I shall take the first plane out of here."

Janice asks, "But where will you go?"

"I don't know yet, there are so many options, but I think I've narrowed it down to Switzerland or England, but I don't really care as long as they have running water!"

"Take me with you," Janice pleads, and they both have a good laugh about it.

ADDENDUM

I've been asked how the haircut went.  Even though it wasn't the point of my post, I did leave you hanging, didn't I.

So let's just say that the stylist took me at my word.  It's an excellent cut and I can hardly believe it, but it totally lacks style and is fully ponytail worthy. 

BEFORE

AFTER

J-M was kind and said it made me look 10+ years younger.  Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I sported this un-style in the mid-90s. 

This addendum to was dedicated to Heather Harpell: the first to ask.