Let me take you on a trip down memory lane with a few funny stories. You know how after high school everyone does computer studies and french at Alliance Francais? Oui? Well I did that too. But my mom decided my typing skills were wanting…grab some popcorn and tissue if you are the laugh till you cry type.
Mom did not settle for mediocre. Despite going for computer classes I typed with my index finger,often claiming that a particular letter was missing from the keyboard because i could not see it. She is a teacher so she was not going to be content with an index-finger-typing daughter.Someone suggested to her typing classes.Of course I thought I would be in a class using the typing tutor software. Joke on me. So I am given directions to the place. I get there and I am sent to class only to realize those are not computers but type writers.I kid you not,type writers.Long story short i was there for 4 days out of the month that had been paid for.But those four days of typing on a typewriter had long term effects.I still,to this day, hit the keys on the keyboard so hard you would think I was typing hate mail.It’s like i built muscle in my fingers. All jokes aside,I am currently looking to purchase an old typewriter but for purely decor purposes to add a certain ‘Je ne ce quois’ to this writer’s home decor.
As a budding writer,one’s first published article is a big thing. Mine was in the December issue of Homes Kenya Magazine issue #60. I was pretty excited and other than my JimJam aka husband, the only other person i wanted to run and tell was my dad. So over Christmas I gave my dad a copy of the magazine,he was so proud. If i never amount to anything, at least for that one moment I made my dad proud.We reminisced about our childhood days,saw pictures of my dad and my uncles in their hey days;dude could rock a mustache. This made me remember my own childhood and this one day came to mind.I was in the backyard and i was rolling in the grass,as happy as a lamb then i felt a sting …red ants! I ran into the house screaming and crying ; an activity i call scrying. All the while I am pulling at my clothes and before I knew it was butt naked pulling at the little ants trying to get them off me.Ants are pure evil.
Being attacked by red ants is a pretty stressful thing for a 4 year old child but nothing compares to getting your hair done in the 90s.The era of hot combs and valon. I remember when school was on break being allowed to have my hair straightened.My big sister and I would go to my cousins’ because they owned a hot comb and we would get our hair done.The process involved heating the hot comb on a stove,oiling the hair with valon then combing through. I do not have fond memories of that because my hair would be pulled and stretched.Sigh,the things we did to look good!nowadays hair care is all about avoiding direct heat on hair yet in the 90s it was all about direct heat. I have like super kinky hair its not even funny.I once broke a wooden comb,that is literally the benchmark for 4c hair so when i think of the brave women who are currently embracing natural hair,i say may the force be with you. Its texturizer for me,not by choice but by necessity.
As an eighties baby I truly give thanks for the keyboard that evolved from a typewriter, for growing up and knowing better than to play in a yard full of ant hills and I am extremely thankful for the blow drier that allowed us sisters to put down that hot comb.