There was Afro / And cane row / Single plaits too / Ring combs for bunches / In ones and in twos / And for all de hair styles / Dat deh pan display / A never did learn / How to comb my hair.

"A run to me mumma / ‘Mumma, please comb my hair.’ / ‘No, child, de combing and de plaiting / Give me fingers dem pain.’ / Send me to me sister / An me sister complain / ‘You’s me little sister / But you really is a pain. / Why you don’t learn / Learn to comb your hair?’

Extract from Raise Up the Low; Bring Down the Mighty by Asher Hoyles


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