Crowning Glory - Part Deux - contemporary African hair

Apparently, the black hair industry in North America alone is worth approximately $4 billion, possibly on par with the "ethnic" cosmetics industry. I suppose this is only a natural progression from the not-so-long ago past where the use of oils, dyes such as red cam wood, perfumes such as lavender, frankincense and sandalwood and ornaments such as beads, shells, seeds, coral, amber were ubiquitously used traditionally to adorn African coiffures. Sisal fibres used to make braids have now been replaced with synthetic extensions of various textures as well as human hair. Wigs, which have been identified as far back as the time of the ancient Egyptians, are now similarly synthetic or convincingly human hair.

Interestingly, although there has been a proffesionalisation of hairdressers and the use of more sophisticated tools to manipulate and negotiate hairstyles (with the exception of the irreplaceable afro comb), unlike the tradition of having hair styled by a friend or relative, hair dressers and barbers alike have maintained the social aspect of creating a space for exchange between stylists and clients. Today hairdressing salons typically nourish an environment for gossip and banter.



The West has inevitably influenced the evolution of African hairstyles and headdress. The now ubiquitous headscarf was in part linked to prudish / modest Victorian (late 19th Century) values, as well as straightening with the use of heat or chemicals. Many hairstyles have persisted and others been fashionably created. Just like the fashion industry, the hairstyles that are in vogue ebb and flow. A jheri curl wearer may be subject to rib-tickling taunts about smearing windows and staining pillows, whereas back in the day it was the “fresh” style of the 80s and early 90s. I confess I was a cool cat back then with my wet curls ☺ Although not so much with my cornrows, which are certainly more fashionable now than they were during my childhood in the 80s.



There is a vast amount of discourse around hair of African ancestry – from its artistic attributes (see beautiful images by JD Okhai Ojeikere; inset by Samuel Fosso) (double hat tip Kamau), to its role in shaping identity, to the rights and wrongs of wearing it natural or chemically processed, but to cite a few. A powerful element of self-expression from the choice of hairstyle that cannot be evaded is that hair may be used as a means to convey a political message. The legendary 1960s Civil Rights / Black Consciousness Movement that emanated from the USA was inexorably linked to the grand and perpetually fashionable afro. African men and women in my parents’ generation wore afros – some to express their fashion sense and others to express the feeling of pride in newly decolonised lands. As a child, I clearly remember the black power fist plastic afro combs that were ubiquitous in Kenya, although at the time I didn’t appreciate the statement they made.



The same could be said for locs (aka dreadlocks), which were previously strongly associated with being a Rastafarian or a rebel, such as the Mau Mau freedom fighters against British colonial rule in Kenya. Today in Kenya, despite the earlier association with the Mungiki (a now illegal politico-religious group), it is apparent that society is becoming more tolerant to this choice of hairstyle, with many hairdressers in Nairobi tending to locs, which are being increasingly worn by men and women alike. Again, just like the ‘fro, locs are being worn as a message of Black Consciousness or simply a trendy fashion-sense.

Despite their renaissance, unfortunately, I still hear of corporate employers in North America, Europe and Africa who have a problem with the choice of these natural hairstyles despite their neat appearance. It’s quite remarkable how hair is so strongly weaved into our socio-political fabric that it evokes such strong reactions and resistance to the transformation of hairstyles' image in people's minds. Regardless, African hair will remain a hot topic of discussion for a long time to come. As far as I am concerned how I wear my hair is an expression of self, but it does not define who I am.

Pangea – One Big Happy Global Community

I am enthused by the idea of building bridges between distinct entities, be they people, places or disciplines. Film maker and creative visionary Jehane Noujaim (of Control Room fame) presented her wish at a TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) conference back in 2006 – her vivid and captivating vision of a day the world would unite through the power of film. Jehane Noujaim took the audience into her mind as she unveiled her perfectly pitched concept of people telling their stories at an allocated, synchronised time, to an audience that would span the globe. And won the TED Prize. It was not a far-fetched idea but captivating, inspirational and pragmatic - expanding people’s minds by allowing them to experience the world of “the other” from their own locality; travelling in mind as opposed to in body, uniting the world in a unique event where people will share the experience of watching and undergoing a transformation elicited by powerful stories through powerful imagery. The event to be held on 10th May 2008 is befittingly called Pangea Day, the name inspired by Wegener’s convincing theory of planet earths existence as a supercontinent prior to detachment into the continents we know today.

When I allow myself to dive into and indulge in the concept of global unity, I am aware that there is clearly an aspect of me that is running away with fantasy. More so as we are living in an age where we talk in polarised terms and convene around coffee tables, speculating on the imminent and inevitable crumbling of the global power, as a dragon (simultaneously?) rises, spanning her wings across the globe to be the next world dominator. However, if I may stay in fantasyland for a moment yet, as I do quite like it here, thinking of planet earth’s continents as a single, conglomerated land mass as it arguably was about 250 million years ago, illuminated for me how this physicality can radically alter how we as individuals perceive and relate to the world. How our inhabitance of a giant land mass could cognitively breed unity amongst us, the inhabitants - the human race – one people on earth, regardless of our physical appearance, culture or heritage purely based on our perceived closer proximity to each other. Regretably, I am falling back from the clouds as I start to recount in my mind the number of inter-continental conflicts that are still fresh in my mind, having occurred during my own life-time….

Back to reality now, it also got me thinking about my Africanness, my Kenyanness and whatever-else-I-may-identify-with-ness. Despite Africa’s vastness and incredibly exhilirating and mind-blowing diversity, what is it that makes me feel connected to my fellow Africans at large? Turning a misconception that I see represented in the media on its head, I am now pondering on if there is a possibility that at a subconscious level, I have absorbed the oh-so-infuriating message that Africa is not a giant? What about the convenient reference to sub-Saharan Africa that excludes the Sahel (for example in terms of statistics) that we have now internalised that has only widened an already palpable divide. This subject matter in itself deserves a separate post.

I suspect that there is an ounce of truth in the notion that Africa’s existence as a land mass breeds unity to those who inhabit her undulating, diverse terrain. No argument wins by presenting a mono-variable and therefore there are sure to be other factors at play here, such as the marginalisation of a people that is inexorably embedded in our history and continues to be propagated in the current global climate with issues such as unjust global trading policies. However, thinking of the land mass that is the continent of Africa, there is a level of intimacy that we share by virtue of our proximity to each other that is embodied in the ease of access that we have to one another, albeit presuming ease of ability to traverse the artificial borders that were carved out in Europe without our knowledge. What I am saying is that our proximity to each other by default makes us feel we belong to each other. A macro community, in other words. This bears great similarity to the concept in economics that a single currency makes people feel united as it simplifies travelling and inter-country relations, therefore uniting neighbouring nations. Basically, it is all in the mind. Although I am not the expert, I daresay that this is already the case in Europe and Central Africa. Looking around me, in the UK, a small island in Northwestern Europe, it is fascinating to see how the UK plays a delicate dance with her identity; with one foot in continental Europe and the other firmly rooted in her autonomy and Britishness. After all, unlike Ireland, the rest of the UK clings onto the sterling, nose turned upwards snubbing the Euro.

Back to Africa – ironically, it is easier and cheaper to fly across the Mediterranean to Europe as opposed to travelling within Africa. Explicably due to the economic theory of demand and supply (although there are promising signs that this is changing, big up KQ). Despite this, our connection to each other remains steadfast. Thinking back to the possibilities of interwoven variables that connect us, all playing a part to nurture our sense of unity, it becomes apparent to me that perhaps another leaf to the argument is that, it may be partly because our identity is physically worn and therefore openly viewed by others (which can be postulated for other regions of the world of course). A person with whom I have no affiliation can look at me from a distance and have full knowledge of my ancestral home, without any verbal exchange. The eyes speak to the onlooker. This reminds me of the brief but appreciated act of exchanging eye contact or a subtle knod, that goes unnoticed to those momentarily sharing the same space when my path has fleetingly crossed with another person of African origin either by birth or ancestry, in a town that had a white majority. Indeed, the solidarity of minorities.

I like the word solidarity. Perhaps yet another unifying factor is our yearning to stand together, in our own defence after witnessing the seemingly tireless mis-representation of our continent as a dark, disease-ridden and war-torn hell hole. In which case, the very misrepresentation that attempts to deny us of our expansive identity also plays a part in uniting us? African Foundation for Development (AFFORD), an organisation that I have a lot of time for, formulated a policy document on what the Diaspora can do to challenge media misrepresentation of Africa.

The question of a united world remains, sitting heavily on my shoulders. Perhaps it is a long way ahead yet, however, we can only but start with baby steps by opening our hearts and listening to each other. Join me on Pangea Day around the world. Surely I can still dream, can’t I?

Update: If you can’t be bothered to read the entire schpill, just read this –

My brain has been ticking along since I put up this post resulting in a eureka moment, a connection of neuronal networks, in the realisation that what I spent a number of paragraphs mulling over as inspired by the concept of the earth as pangea may be summarised thus: there are a myriad of interwoven agents at play to form a complex multidimensional picture that will inarguably influence our definition of the term “community”. These include geographical boundaries (aha! the connection to pangea), shared interests (for example activism), age groups, gender, socio-economic and political factors. This list could potentially carry on to infinity as we identify the plethora of micro and macro communities that exist based on our differences or associations. I guess you now either (a) get the drift of my ramblings or (b) have spotted I never read a social science. Or both. Don’t you just love it when things suddenly arrange themselves into nice, little, tidy packages to calm an overwhelmed mind?

Dutch Wax as a Symbol of African Identity

Colourfully ornate Dutch Wax or Wax Prints are big business for women traders appropriately referred to as Nana-Benz in West-African countries such as Togo, Benin, Nigeria and Ghana by virtue of the affordability of the German car. The intriguing history of these mobile canvases of art-work ubiquitously reputed to be the quintessential African fabric and a proudly-adorned symbol for African solidarity / black consciousness is perhaps not that well recognised. Originally a cheaply produced imitation of Javanese batik by the Dutch in the 19th Century in a bid to penetrate and in an oh-so-colonial way take over the market, and unsuccessfully so might I add, the Dutch Wax prints landed a more favourable market in the Gold Coast (as the Europeans called it then). The rest as they say is history. Today, in West and Central Africa and further afield in metropolises like Nairobi or Cape Town, Wax Prints have been embraced as a fashionable, back-to-the-roots attire, effortlessly reflected on the streets, catwalks and glossy women’s magazines.


Interestingly (well, at least for the techno-enthusiasts), the misleading name Dutch Wax or Wax Prints was a fabrication (excuse the pun) intended to compete with the hand-made Javanese batiks that were laboriously depicted with the use of wax. Apparently the Javanese women drew the motifs on woven cloth as a form of meditation – how beautiful is that! Conversely, the European machine-made fabrics used dye-resist resin to design the motifs. The Dutch Wax "brand", however, is used to this day and sought after in colourful stacks of folded textiles in market stalls as a symbol of quality. Initially a unique commodity as the sole European production purely for export to the African market, this is now changing with production as far as China and closer to home in Ghana and Nigeria. Naturally, the lower prices of the Chinese-made fabrics have raised a lot of concerns for local producers as has the contestable quality in some instances, for consumers.


What is fascinating is that this once upon a time purely European production was quickly appropriated, embraced and integrated as a means of self-expression. It is a possibility that this was only so because the Dutch were viewed as well-meaning traders as opposed to colonial masters in their West-African niche. Therefore trading with them as opposed to the British for instance, was probably a rebellion of sorts. Regardless, despite its history, this style of fabric has been integrated and achieved local meaning in the design and hierarchy of its styles that it is unquestionably African. This is perceptively asserted in an interview with Nina Sylvanus, a social anthropologist from UCLA, simply but ingeniously with the phrase “the use is its meaning”. An example to illustrate this is that spaghetti’s origins are inarguably a copy of Chinese noodles since the days of the Italian explorer Marco Polo. However, no one would query spaghetti as authentically Italian. On a complete diversion, I was intrigued to stumble across Dr Sylvanus’ work and can not imagine the looks I would have got from my parents had I proclaimed I would be embarking on a PhD to research The Fabric of Africanity. Actually, who am I kidding - even if I knew people were actually researching this, I would not have dared. It simply would not have crossed my mind as an option...And then we are left wondering why non-Africans appear to be more interested in examining and documenting our culture? Alas, that is a topic for another day.