Between the Black and the White

Tresses, tresses, tresses, long, short ,thick, and thin, bouncy, curly, wispy and wavy, their texture, styles and colours many, our pride, our hair, our crowning glory.

Once luxuriant, a long braid, swaying with my hips, then cut short, my bouncy curls were always, enviously lustrous and thick. With the passing years, it started to fade, lost its bounce, became listless and my thinning hair, is the bane of every stylist. The once shining black, now streaked with grey, is slowly turning almost white.

Between the black and the white, between the luxuriant and the scant, I lived my life, built a career and raised a family. Not a story for the annals of history, not even a footnote, maybe, but a life like none other, and yet like so many. With no claim to fame, not one for the cover of any magazine, my life at best nondescript, is still an amazing journey for me .

At a time when women chose a profession in medicine, engineering or education, I chose that of business. Landing, quite by chance, in the then booming garment exports and starting my career in marketing. Preparing collections and pricing, meeting with clients, securing orders, and overseeing their execution, gave me a wide range of mastery . Travelling was an integral part of the job, both within the country and overseas. Soon, before the age of twenty five, most of the Western world I had seen, the only noteworthy achievement.

After my marriage, when my son was born, not wanting to be tied, to the timings and demands of an employer,I started my own small enterprise, sourcing fashion garments for European clients , namely Germany. The textile business, then being lucrative, we slowly found our feet. Fairly successful our start-up turned out to be, sustaining us comfortably for many years, but with no excesses.

In the beginning, before the Internet explosion, communication with clients and vendors, was in the form of dial up telephones, telexes and handwritten faxes. Now we have state of the art services but you can still catch me, reaching for a paper and pen, to convey matters of importance. Not to say, am unappreciative, of the advancement of technology.

Then, like all that goes up must come down, the decline of the industry started. Plagued by rising costs and taxes, the withdrawal of incentives and benefits, , the losing price war with neighbouring countries, a series of insurmountable problems we faced. Small businesses shut their doors, why even some behemoths fell, and our little venture reduced further in size. With the volume of orders falling to negligible, we barely survived, but to our credit, we still have the same client, thirty years later.

On my birthday today, it is another year, another bead in the necklace of my life, another pebble in the sands of time. My once smooth brow, furrowed with lines of worry, the coquettish eyebrows, now fleshy and drooping , the crinkles and wrinkles, deepening each day, warts and dark spots, the effect of my toils. The most recent, the line from the bridge of my nose to the chin, courtesy the new accessory, a face mask. The once spotless and seamless face, charting the course of my journey.

Have had my share of sorrows, but for the unexpected joys, am thankful. Failures and obstacles I have encountered, but in the fortuitous success, I revel. Mistakes and wrong choices I have made but for the unfolding grace and mercy from above, am most grateful. Missed opportunities, I have rued, but for the more opportune ones that followed, am happy. And shattered dreams have taught me, to pick up the pieces and dream anew .

At the start of this journey, the road was obscure, yet I embarked, starry eyed, full of hope and dreams. With each new twist and turn, each new bump, the holes were filled, the map was revealed. Those who raised and reared me, I lost one by one. My only family now, my husband, my confidant, my anchor, and my two children who brought me the precious gift of motherhood, for them I thank my Lord, daily.

In this my race, yet not done, the road ahead may be rough and bumpy, but with courage, faith and caution close behind, I will steer on. My crowning glory, no longer my hair, but the wealth of my knowledge, the experience of life and the wisdom of time . Then somedays I see, my black curls rising above the white, raising their head defiantly, and I know that the indomitable spirit of youth, still lives on in me .