Hey, not me!

Chapter three: ombre

The wind was blowing in my hair as I alighted from the bus an hour and a half later. It was now afternoon and the sun was doing its best to batter us into surrender. I sighed as a blast of sand flew past me filling my eyes with tears. Home sweet home.

Growing up in this semi arid place had been quite an experience. We were lucky, however, to have some permanent rivers flowing through our land. This allowed the locals to grow crops and make enough to feed their families. My parents were luckier to have owned one of the first shops in the village. That way, they had enough to send my siblings and I to school.

"Shasha!" I heard someone call and I turned to look. That was a nickname that one year old me had unwittingly burdened on myself. In a small village like this, such things tend to stick.

"Mrs Kamau," I greeted the enthusiastic woman. She had been my teacher in primary school and wouldn't forget me so easily.

"You are home, I can see. And you look good like someone who has eaten well. You know young women these days won't eat because they want to be skinny like white people. I am glad that you have enough sense to not be like that," she said heartily.

"Yeah," was all I had to say. In all honesty, not even Jameson had ever found a way to turn an insult into a compliment or vice versa.

"Okay let me not me keep you. Run along home am sure your folks are waiting," she said waving me off.

As I walked the rest of the way home, I couldn't help but wonder if indeed I had gained that much weight. I had always preferred to be on the slim side and Mrs Kamau calling me fat didn't make me feel any better. I mean what is so wrong with a girl wanting to be tiny and cute? Okay maybe I was being overly dramatic, but I liked how being small made me feel less noticeable. My mother always found it saddening how much I wanted to disappear into the background.

When I arrived home I took a moment to compose myself before pushing through the small gate. Being home always brought up new surprises. The last time I had been here, my father and brother had been in a war of wills. My brother insisted on shaving his hair into bizarre styles which rattled my father to no end. By the time I left, neither of them had caved in. I was quite curious to see what they would be up to this time around.

I was ready for all possibilities when I knocked on the front door. My youngest sister pulled me into a hug once she saw it was me. I giggled and hugged her back. She was the cuddly one in the family and (secretly) my favourite sibling. She pulled me into the house where I received more hugs from my other sister and only brother. I was amused to see that one crazy hairstyle stuck on his head.

"You won," I teased him.

"Wait until you see dad then you can talk," Liz jutted in. A brief introduction; I am the first born, Liam is second then Liz with Amy as the last born.

"What happened to dad?" I asked cautiously. In this house nothing would be too unexpected.

"My daughter is home," my father exclaimed as he walked into the house. One look at his hair and I knew that for once, my family had managed to completely shock me.

"Dad, why do you have a maroon mohawk on your head?" I asked in a very small voice. I took several steps back as he came towards me. There was no way this was real. My siblings snickered as my dad rubbed his hair sheepishly.

"I may have lost a bet to your brother," he explained.

"Okay, who are you people and where is my family?" I voiced my suspicions. My head was swimming with thoughts as I wondered how this had happened. Just when I was about to bolt my mom walked in and saw my expression. She broke into a smile and ushered me into the kitchen with her. The rest of my family remained in the living room chattering and laughing.

Mom had me settled on a stool as she handed me a cup of tea. She set about to prepare me some eggs and started explaining the whole ordeal I had witnessed. Apparently my brother had dared my father to get the crazy hairstyle siting that dad was getting too old to do anything fun. This had bristled my father and he had gotten the mohawk in protest.

The deal had been for him to shave it off if he didn't like it. Unfortunately for him, Liam had noticed his grin before he could hide it when he had gotten the haircut. And so the mohawk had stayed. Losing the bet had also warranted Liam a chance to choose dad's current hair colour. As mom wound up her story with a sour look, I couldn't help laughing. I mean once you got over the shock, it was quite funny that my brother had so craftily outsmarted dad.

"And so now dad has maroon hair," I observed.

"Actually, it is an ombre. The perfect blend of black and maroon," mom explained. She must have noticed my confused look because she quickly added, "your brother's words, not mine."

"Okay," I laughed.

I got up and started helping with the dishes. Apparently, my sisters hadn't gotten any better at time management. They always left the dishes for too long in the sink. It was a good thing my mother was a patient woman because they would have otherwise gotten into trouble multiple times. I liked working with mom in the kitchen because it was a great time to bond over recent stories and jokes. Also, I got an excuse to hide away from my siblings who would try to rope me into their endless games. I just didn't have enough energy to run till I fainted in exhaustion.