Shampoo and conditioner

Kenema Beach, outside of Monrovia, Liberia.

This is a wild beach. I actually almost drowned swimming in the violent waves when I was about 19 years old. I got stuck in a rip tide that sucked me right out into the ocean like soda through a straw. I fought it for a while, but the waves pulverized me, slamming me into ocean floor again and again, until I was exhausted and suffered a dislocated arm. In hindsight, I am shocked at how quickly I gave up the fight. I went from panicking and fighting for my life to allowing myself to be seduced by the sweetest feeling of release....I think it must be what heroin feels like. I not only willingly, but quite cheerfully, let myself slip away... That letting go is what saved my life. When I stopped fighting the current, I shot out to the open ocean and collided with a marine who was sucked out by the same hungry water, and by some random miracle, we rescued each other. We clung together, him strong but just as helpless and freaked out as I was, and me with a flopping and useless right arm. We swam parallel to the shore for over an hour, crowds gathering on the beach waiting for us to drown or get eaten by a big shark. Eventually, we made it to shore. Grateful, wrung out, amazed. Hmm, I often think that if he had not been there, If I had not been there, neither of us would have survived it alone. Thank you random miracle granter.
Kenema beach had a really cool lagoon that was fed by the Atlantic Ocean. I used to like to spend part of my day on the beach, battling the currents, and I would park myself next to the lagoon for the later part of the day. A small fishing village was tucked in the forest next to the lagoon. The children would come and watch me when I washed my hair in the lagoon. They were quite interested in my shampoo nad conditioner. It was Flex, remember that brand? We got it from the commisary. I tried to get them to come and give it a try for a long time, but they had no interest in trying it. They actually seemed afraid. One one of those glorious days, one of the kids, James, explained to me that the children were afraid that if they used my shampoo and conditioner, their hair would be dead like mine. They thought my straight blonde hair was dead. As the conversation continued, I realized that not only did they think our hair was dead, but also our skin, white and lifeless, and our smell, or lack thereof. What an eye opening persective that was! I convinced James to let me wash his hair and prove that it would not result in dead hair like mine. He was very nervous, but he braved it. His whole body was shaking with fear, but when we were all done with the shampoo and conditioner, his hair was still black, still shiny, still full of texture. It did smell great too, because Flex was a really great smelling shampoo. He whooped and danced and smiled the biggest most beautiful smile I have ever seen. It is burned into my brain until this day. When the other children saw that he made it unscathed, they ran and lined up to get a hairwashing. This became a weekly tradition. We washed our hair, we wrote the alphabet in the sand with sticks, I learned how to husk a coconut with a couple of well placed whacks of a machete. I miss my friends from the lagoon.