“Then here are the porcupine quill and the comb.”
The comb was a wooden one which Makanya had made herself. “Remember to comb my hair straight up into a peak,” she said. “Some day when you are married you will wear your hair the same way.”
Nomusa combed her mother’s short, thick hair up from the back of her neck, shaping and slanting it backward from her forehead. To look proper, the hair had to end in a peak just back of the top of her head.
Every little while Nomusa had to rub grease into the hair so that it would stand up stiffly and stay in shape. With the porcupine quill she picked at the hair to keep the strands in place. It took patience and much combing and greasing to make the hair stay where it was supposed to.
After a while, Makanya carefully ran her hand over her head to feel the shape of her hair.
“Well done, my daughter,” she said.
“What skirt will you wear today?” asked Nomusa.
“I shall wear the new oxhide one,” said Makanya.
“Oh, you will look beautiful!”
Nomusa knew it was only a very special occasion that would induce her mother to wear the oxhide skin instead of her short grass skirt. For days and days she had watched her mother water-soak the skin, which had come from one of her own cattle. When it was soft, she had helped her mother pull out all the hairs. It had been long and tedious work. After that, they had both used sharp thorns and scratched and scratched at one side of the skin until it was as soft as a baby’s ear.