Aisha, African hair braiding salon where Fatou enjoys her work.

By JT Thompson

Fatou: the Senegalese hair braider at Aisha, an African hair salon ten minutes’ walk from the center of Union Square.

The salon, which is next door to a small computer repair shop on a mostly residential street, is a simple affair. Three chairs by a wall of mirrors. Against the opposite wall, another chair, tilted back for hair washing. Beside it is a large and, to me, bewildering array of hair extension products. The walls are a cheery orange, and there is a large flat screen TV showing the news. A sign in the window says:  Cornrows. Weaves. Threads. Dreads. Twist. Walk-ins welcome.

When I walk in, Fatou is sitting by the window reading a magazine. She’s wearing skin tight aqua tights and a green long sleeved, boat neck t-shirt with white stripes. Her hair is permed, the ringlets touched with highlighting, and she has thick gold hoops in her ears.

She looks up, eyes me for a moment or two, and then asks skeptically, “Can I help you?”

At first Fatou is wary and reluctant, but I manage to charm her into talking with me. Fatou is a big woman, in her 50s, with a robust laugh, and an amused air of skepticism about most things. She’s seen a lot, and is able to laugh even about things that are close to her heart.

“I came to the U.S. from Senegal in 1991,” she tells me. “My husband, he was already working here, at a bank in Washington DC. He was a…how do you call that in English…” She asks me, “Do you speak French?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“Well, he was a kind of diplomat. We traveled a lot, parties in London, Paris. We came to Somerville when he retired.”

“Why haven’t you retired?”

“Oh, I love my job. I’m not doing it because of money. I love it.”

“What do you love about it?”

“Oh, everything!” She laughs her big laugh. “I like making people happy. I love it. The women who come in here, they’re from everywhere. We like to talk.”

“What did you know about the States before you came here?”

“Very little. But I like it here. It’s safe,” she says firmly.

“Did you not feel safe in Senegal?”

“Oh, no. My country is very peaceful. We have no war. Very, very nice. I go back every year.”

I ask her what she enjoys doing away from the salon.

“I hang out with my kids. Four boys, 14, 16, 22, 24. All born here. I don’t have a friend. I don’t like friends.” She grins. “Say, you have trouble with your husband. You talk with a friend to get their ideas. That friend have a friend. And that friend have a friend. Then your story is out! I don’t want to have that.” She laughs.

“It can be hard with children,” she continues. “There is no fast money. If you want to get rich quick, you’re going to be in trouble. You have to be willing to work hard. A lot come here from other countries – they sell drugs. They sell guns. They kill people. I tell my children, go out of the house safe, go to work safe, come home safe. I tell them, all that is shiny is not gold.” Her big laugh again.

“But, maybe they have a friend who is showing them different things. Outside the house. You do the best you can. But you don’t know.” She shrugs and smiles with her eyebrows raised.

I ask her what she likes about America, if there are things she thinks are great.

Fatou thinks for a moment.

“America really….” She stops, and a stern look passes across her face. “Some people don’t understand. They need to understand. Just stay away from trouble. Do your job. People come here, they in trouble at home, they poor, they want to get rich quick. They don’t get it.” Fatou shakes her head and laughs again.

“But like I say, if you stay safe, you can do anything here. You can have an education, you can have anything. In America, you can get anything you want. Get a job. But still, some people want to kill people. America gives a chance to everybody. Freedom to do anything you want. Just stay away from trouble!” She smiles.

A customer comes in and Fatou greets her in French. Fatou turns to me and excuses herself.

“Very nice talking to you,” she says, with a look of amusement.

When I leave, Fatou and her customer are happily chatting in French. I can’t understand what they are talking about, but they understand each other.