Ten Thousand Braids Of Human Hair
No-one ever knows what to expect from the ritual of adulthood before it happens. We know that we are separated, the boys from the girls. We know that what happens is very important. And we know that sometimes, it changes people in a way that’s impossible to explain.
And of course, we know that part of the ritual is cutting off our braids. All the little girls envy the girls with their short hair, newly made women, and I suppose the boys do, too. I’ve seen new-made men posing and preening just as much as the girls do, showing off to the younger boys whose braids are still long.
For some, it’s the only time in their lives that they cut their hair. Others go back again, at some important time. When someone dies, sometimes, or when a child is coming. Times with meaning for them.
I remember how excited I was, when all the girls and boys born in that year were gathered together on midsummer day. There was feasting, and dancing, and casting of bones and reading of fortunes. Then, at sunset, we were divided, the girls from the boys, and led up into the hills.
They led us into a cave, and a wise woman wrapped in a white shawl sat and explained the women’s mysteries to us. That was, for me, something of a let-down. I already knew most of it, from my mother and sisters, and helping with animals on the farm. The woman saw me yawn, and smiled, showing only a few worn teeth. “You already know,” she said, in her cracked old voice. “Yes, many of you already know. But some will not, and you must all know before you go on. For to truly understand what is asked of you there, you must understand the cycle of life and death.”
When she was done, and had answered all the questions the girls had who hadn’t known, she brought us together and led us through a low passage that was as dark as the darkest night. “Each girl, take hold of the hand of the girl before and the girl behind,” she said firmly, taking the hand of the first girl in line. “Walk together in trust, and be not afraid.”
It was strange, that walk in the darkness. Frightening, mysterious, and yet reassuring too, to feel the hands of my friends clasped in mine, to know we made a chain of trust behind our guide. It seemed to go on for a long time, and yet it couldn’t have been too long, for the hill wasn’t so large, and we came out in a great cavern still inside it. And what we saw there… that more than made up for the disappointing beginning.
