The Trials of A Mohican In Nigeria

I often ask myself why I insist on keeping my mohican hairstyle; and no matter how many times the question pops up the answers are always the same.

1. I like this hairstyle

And

2. Doing my bit to help people to stop judging things on appearance alone.

Whilst discussing the endemic moral decay that has decimated authentic relationships and society in general a few days ago a friend of mine stated "the prettier the girl the more likely she's immoral."
Whilst I wouldn't quite go so far I can understand where he's coming from. Looks can indeed be very very deceiving. And there lies my point. If there's one major area of weakness we Nigerians possess it is our unfortunate penchant for judging everything and everyone by appearance.

Just as a great suit and tie doesn't guarantee anything resembling substance or intelligence on the inside, so too a slightly eccentric or non conventional appearance  doesn't mean the individual in front of you is any less serious or intelligent than you are.

But this isn't such a serious a piece as the first few paragraphs suggest. Rather I want to have a little giggle about the trials one goes through as a result of wearing a mohican.

Here are a few of my interesting experiences.


After meeting with the COO of a prospective partner a few weeks ago, I asked to see the CEO, who is not only a great friend but also like an older sister to me. As soon as she saw me she said
"Segun please cut this hair. You look like one of those hari krishna people. You won't get those billion dollar deals with this kind of hairstyle-o."

I must confess that because I look up to her, those comments shook me to my bones. In-fact I'm pretty sure I staggered precariously out of their office as against walking off in my usual swagger. So much did her comments affect me that I determinedly figured out a way to make it look flatter when needs be.


And there is a man I admire as an achiever, respect as a great man, and look up to as a father-like figure. As I cheerfully bowed to greet him many months ago at his son's birthday barbecue he blurted out, "Ahh, Akande, you too have done this thing?! But don't worry, there's another young man that had the same hairstyle. I told him to come and see me, and then I prayed for him. He soon cut it off. You'll be okay. Just come and see me when you have the time."

How else can one react to such a highly esteemed father figure but laugh along respectfully and vaguely convey that you'll attend for the necessary prayers?!

Whilst chatting outside church after a midweek service a few weeks ago the eleven year-old grandson of one of my late father's friends walked up to me and gave me a big hug. After the hug he looked at my hair and said, " Uncle I love your hair. I used to have the same style when I was young."

Chai!!!

4. But the piece de resistance must go to the senior vicar that led the service of my aunt's 75th birthday at the Anglican Church of Resurrection in 1004.

It was during my church's (Victory Sanctuary) fasting period; so when the senior vicar asked us to come for communion I happily obliged - choosing to break my fast a little earlier that day. Ever the gentleman I kept allowing others to go before me, until I found myself being the only person kneeling on the pew with hands outstretched, waiting eagerly if not a touch nervously to be served. As the vicar approached me I noticed his eyes were fixed squarely on one thing alone - the top of my head. He hesitated, then looked to the colleague on his right for assurance that this strange looking fellow kneeling before them was indeed waiting for communion and not somehow lost in transit on his way to a rave in Upminister. His colleague nodded as if to say, 'well, what's the worst that could happen?!' The senior vicar then gingerly took a couple of steps towards me and asked in bellowed voice, "are you here for communion?"

"Yes sir," I replied, now feeling a tad uncomfortable by the burning hole being etched into my back by the eagerly awaiting gazes of every pair of eyes in the congregation. Fortunately for me there were no more questions from the vicar. He proceeded to serve me without further ado.

After the service my cousin walked up to me and said, in total hysterics I might add, "Segs, for a moment there I thought he wouldn't serve you because of your hair. It was close-o."

But you know what?! There are also some very encouraging reactions. Such as the old lady that walked up to me a few weeks ago and said, "I really like your hairstyle. Makes you stand out. What do you do?"

"I'm a Sales Coach and an author," I replied.

She then smiled and looked me up and down again before saying, "I love it. Never be scared of looking different. Always be yourself."

And you know what?! For every twenty negative reactions or statements I may get, all I need to do is remember what that old lady said to remind me of the very reason I wear a mohican.

I love this hairstyle!  And I hope my courage (or foolishness - call it what you will) to wear it encourages more people to just be themselves.