Hair Salon in the Ghetto: Dyeing My Hair with a Toothbrush and Gin
Today was the day. Somehow, I had the urge to get my hair done. And like so many things in Nigeria, it didn’t go quite like in a European salon with fluffy bathrobes, aromatic shampoo, and cappuccinos in the waiting area.
In the ghetto, people earn less, so the services are also cheaper. But that also means: improvisation is king. Materials? Minimalistic. Tools? Repurposed. Atmosphere? Authentic.
Toothbrush instead of a brush
I bought my own hair dye – packed in small plastic bags. Another bag with chlorine. No brand, no ingredients listed. As long as it works. The mix was stirred in a repurposed cup. And then: a toothbrush. Yes, exactly. Not a hairdresser’s brush, but a toothbrush massaged the mixture into my scalp with great dedication.
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An old towel served as a shoulder protector. And like any good dyeing process, it was time to wait. So, we went outside for some fresh air. In the meantime, my hairdresser had a few shots of gin (also from plastic bags) and a joint. I wavered between “What am I doing here?” and “It will be fine.” After all, Nigeria is the land of No risk, no fun.
The bucket moment
To rinse, water was provided in buckets, and an empty container was cleaned. Then, the hairdresser placed the bucket on my thighs, pressed my head toward the container, and started pouring water over my head with a small scoop. It reminded me of my youth – only the bucket served a different purpose back then…
The water flowed cleanly into the bucket – mostly. Occasionally, some splashed on my thighs. But hey, at least it was cold and refreshing.
African-style styling
Hair dried with a fan – by a second person who suddenly appeared and provided some cooling wind. No electricity, no blow dryer. Instead, teamwork. When the generator kicked in, the straightener was finally put to use. I briefly worried whether alcohol and heat really mix well. But my hairdresser showed impressive precision – and surprisingly much artistic talent. Perhaps the high was the creative spark.
In the end, I stood there: styled, dyed, richer in experience – and with a firm resolution never to forget how little it sometimes takes to get so much.
✂️ Conclusion: Ghetto-Style with Heart
A trip to the hairdresser in the ghetto of Nigeria is not for the faint-hearted – but it’s certainly unforgettable. Where improvisation meets joy for life, stories are born that money can’t buy.
