…Would you want my type of hair? These were the words of what I call a beautiful girl whom we shall call Mpho for now, as she played in her Indian friend’s hair. I had gone to collect my boys from school one sunny but slightly chilly afternoon and as I waited for them to be called from the play ground, I happened to over hear the above one sided conversation. I say one sided because Mpho’s friend did not answer back. She did not seem to mind Mpho playing with her hair though. Mpho looked about 10 years old, somewhere there and had a beautiful afro. A full head of kinky hair, combed out. I wanted to approach her and ask her why she preferred her friend’s hair to her own. I stopped short of gathering her in my arms and whispering to her that her hair is indeed beautiful. Because of the school policy governing the conduct of parents and learners which are not their children, I could not. I just looked hopelessly and walked away wondering what must have been going on in Mpho’s mind.
