In 2020, I took down my locs because I was tired. I had initially started it because I believed it was an easy way out to manage what I thought was an “unmanageable” 4C kinky black hair. But boy, was I wrong!

Managing locs required a different level of skills that I, as a rookie, just didn’t have. Worse still, I had various locticians touch my hair which damaged and thinned out what was supposed to be my escape into the “easy” world of black hair.

But I took down my locs, and though stressed, I was incredibly happy.  And so began what I believed would be a long, tedious journey toward managing my hair.

Suddenly, I noticed how one of our neighbours had an aloe vera plant. It is funny because what I thought was sudden was something that had always been there. It just wasn’t apparent to me.

It’s like planning to buy a yellow car. Suddenly, you start seeing yellow cars everywhere. But I guess that’s life, right? You only notice what you pay attention to.  

So, I approached our neighbour and asked, “could you give me some aloe vera plants so I could use it for my hair, please?”

She agreed — but what started out as a one-time question became one she had to listen to every other week. Eventually, I think she must have gotten tired of me because one day, I knocked on her door and, rather than give me the plant as she usually did, she gave me some aloe buds to plant instead.

Just like that, I turned into a plant mom! I planted the baby aloe so it could grow and serve my hair.

But being a mom humbled me.

I felt as though everything was going wrong. I was dedicated. I watered my baby, followed every bit of advice, and used the most fertile soil I could find. I tried. And tried. But every effort came with disappointment.

The more effort I put into growing my baby, the more it withered away.

And one day, I stopped caring for it. I neglected it because I thought it would never live to see the light of the day. My hair is never going to thrive. I considered going back to our neighbour, but shame prevented me from doing that. So, I abandoned “Operation: Be a Plant Mom” and resorted to other ways of improving my hair.

And then one day, I passed by and boom! I saw my baby.

It was blooming. At first, I was shocked because I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yet, it bloomed. I even saw my baby carrying its own babies! I was ecstatic! My hair can finally thrive!

But amidst my ecstasy, I moved closer and listened.

It was trying to tell me something. I paused and waited and heard it ask:

“Why did you give up on me?” “You abandoned me at a time I depended on you and wanted you to see me. I felt dispensable. Like a thing you needed for an end goal and disposed of when you felt I couldn’t live up to your expectations.

But I was just a baby. A baby who was just growing and learning to thrive and survive in a hard world. You adopted me during the dry season but now, the rainy season has come, and I am growing and have even managed to have babies of my own.

I understood the steps you took. I appreciate it. You watered me and fed me with the perfect soil. I wanted to grow. But I just couldn’t. I was a baby. I wanted to live. I wanted you to keep pouring into me so I could get to a point where I’d stop being afraid. A point I’d be able to stand on my feet and say yes, mummy did what she could, but I did what I could too.

But you gave up on me at a point I wanted you to see me. Because you didn’t think I could grow.

But I grew and I am thriving.”

I saw a shadow cast over my face and realized how bad I was to my baby. I should never have neglected it. My neighbour gave me the responsibility of caring for it, but I, too, was just a baby — a baby plant mom, still learning.

I found myself apologizing. “I am sorry”. I whispered. “Mommy knows better now. I didn’t before, but now, I understand that growth is incremental.”

I condemned my baby because of my own limitations. I gave up on it because from my eyes, it couldn’t fulfill my end goal. I didn’t think it was worthy enough to be cared for. At least not in a way that would help my kinky 4C hair thrive.

But now I know better. I learned.

And since then, I protected my babies from any possible slug attack while they did the same for me. I did everything to ensure that they remain rooted and true to who they were becoming.

In 2021, I had to leave my babies behind as I was about to start a new life in a different country. It was a hard moment. I debated whether I should bring them with me, but I knew I couldn’t. So, with a heart full of hope and a mouth filled with prayers, I bade them goodbye.

Two years later, I went back to see my baby.

It was anchored well — so well that it stood like an ancestral figure with countless offspring attached to it.

Even though my baby now has descendants, I still recognized it.

I inched closer and closer and said:

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, Vera, because through you, I learned what it meant to have a growth mindset.”