Hair!

No, I’m not talking about the 60’s musical, although I’m humming that to myself.  I’m talking about the amazing hair in Samoa.  I was born with a head of white blonde, baby fine, curly hair.  Over the years it darkened to dishwater blonde and became a bit wavy rather than curly.  It’s still baby fine.   Growing up in southern Arizona, I was always incredibly jealous of Latina women’s hair – thick, dark and luxurious.  I’m equally jealous here in Samoa.

It is customary in Samoa for women to wear their hair up.  Most pull it back in a pony tail, and then wrap it around to form a bun.  Some of the buns are huge.  When I pull my hair back and wrap it around it doesn’t form a bun.  It forms a ridiculous tiny lump.

I sat behind a young woman on the bus the other day.  She was wearing her hair in a single French braid down her back.  It was so thick, that I couldn’t have gotten my hand around it.  We both sat with the wind blowing through the bus windows.  I got off looking a hot mess, like I’d just been on a bus with the windows open.  She got off without a single hair out of place.

A lot of Samoans have curly hair.   I saw a woman the other day who, for some reason, had let her hair go “natural”.  It came down to the middle of her back and was a HUGE Afro. 

Hair products are big in Samoa.  One of the smells I will forever associate with Samoa is hair gel.  You can’t miss it on the bus on a hot day.  Stores sell a wide variety of hair gels in sizes ranging from small to “are you kidding, who could ever use that much gel in a lifetime” large. 

Instead of gel, a lot of women use baby oil to tame flyaway strands.  I’ve watched women come out of the shower with freshly shampooed hair, pull it up into a bun, then smooth a handful of baby oil over it. They look great and are ready to roll in 2 seconds.  I, on the other hand, have to dry my pathetically thin locks with my fan.  It takes at least half an hour, with me fanning frantically while getting dressed. 

I’ve also noticed that most men here don’t lose their hair.  I grew up with a dad who’d gone bald before I was ever born.  Thick head of hair or bald as a cue ball, doesn’t matter to me.  I’ve met a few men with shaved heads here, who appear to be balding, but I’m guessing the bald gene is recessive.

I thought that I was the only one obsessed with hair here, but it seems that Samoan women are also checking out each other’s hair.  How long it is, how thick it is, how straight or curly are all topics for conversation.  I’ve never heard it in a disparaging way but always a “Oooh, look at her hair, how thick it is” with just a touch of envy in the voice.

My hair’s getting longer, to the length that I really should start wearing it up rather than hanging in a “flashy” way.  Rather than exposing my pitiful bun, though, I’m just going to get it cut.  My hair does attract notice, mostly because of its color.  The sun has lightened it even more than usual, so with the silver that age has given me, it’s very light.  It’s not unusual to be on the bus and feel a small child stroking my hair.  No doubt they’re thinking, “Poor palagi, she has hardly any hair.”