STORY - "Easter Dreaming "


Today, her hair is a luscious burgundy shade. Her aquiline nose sits neatly on her heart-shaped face. She could have been a Greek goddess--- Helene of the white arms. Her fingers weave magic on the crowns of many women everyday. The salon is busy and she is in her element. There is a cloying heat outside. The air bespeaks rain that refuses to fall. I sit down and place my hair and my day in her hands.

She flings the cape around me like a fisherman would cast his net upon the water. I'm in her net. With comb and scissors, she is ready to mend a tattered ego, one of many she will reconstruct today.

The oily ash on my forehead had long ceased to be the shape of a cross and grit had materialised in the deep lines of my brow.
“Shall I get a cloth and wipe the dirt off your forehead, love?” Helene's voice breaks my reflection.
“No, thanks. Let my mortality confront me for the day.”

“Mm, we're truly having a bad hair day, aren't we? We'll have to fix that in a jiffy. Those grey roots have to be dealt with and The Devil Wears Prada hair style would suit those cheekbones.” We both laugh.

“It's Ash Wednesday today. Can you believe it? Christmas has just been. All of a sudden it's Lent, and then Easter in six weeks. Why is time flying so fast?”

“You're right there. I wouldn't want it to stop though. I'm glad I'm through with those horrible acneed days of my teens, and through with that bastard first husband of mine. I can't wait for winter when my hubby and I are holidaying in the tropics.”
“Are you really? That's wonderful. No, you would not want time to slow down then. Not yet.”

“Anyway, what are you being so morbid for? Everything is fine, isn't it?”
“Everything is fine; it's just that Ash Wednesday always makes you think about the end. Death, you know—and how you are living your life now. So many questions come to mind: what have I achieved in my life? What am I here for? You know - questions like that.” She looks thoughtful.

I remember a mature-aged student at university who did not know what Lent was all about. It's not out of ignorance. It is the way one is brought up and how one lives life the only way one knows. Helene has a full, full life as far as I could gather. She had been doing my hair for many years. I'm curious. “Do you know what Ash Wednesday is all about?”

“No, never heard of it,” she says. One trick of her trade is to be a good listener and every customer has a story to tell.

“You have heard of ‘Jesus Christ?'” She says, yes. I'm confident she wants to know more. “You know the words ‘Christmas' and ‘Christians' have something to do with him?”

“Yeah.” I can't tell whether it's a question or a statement. “What exactly does ‘Christ' mean; his last name?”

“Actually, it literally means the ‘anointed one' or ‘Messiah'; one who is marked with oil to be a king or a leader. Well, we believe that he is the son of God and people who follow his teachings are called Christians. Does that make any sense to you?”
“Yep.”

“Actually, even people who don't know a lot about Jesus can live the Christian way if they love God, and love their neighbour as they love themselves. Those basically make up the Christian religion.”
“Hm, the golden rule, I know.”

“Exactly. Well, the cross is the main symbol of Christianity. We believe that Jesus loved us so much that he suffered and died on the cross for us; so that we can all go to heaven in the end.”
“The Jews killed him?”

“Jesus was a Jew too, but a rebellious one. He was this guy who started preaching love and tolerance. Jesus taught in riddles. He had to be careful. But it made everyone confused, especially, the elders of the synagogue, the Jewish church. They were afraid that traditional ways were being corrupted by his teachings. All of a sudden here was an innovator whose following was swelling in numbers. They thought he was a traitor who was proclaiming himself the king of the Jews. Those were tumultuous times under the Romans. Punishments were harsh in those days and like thousands of traitors and criminals of that time, he was tortured and crucified.”

“Hm. How terrible to be tortured and killed for preaching love!”

“To sum it all up, Lent is the time in the year when Christians observe and celebrate Jesus' life and death. On Good Fridays, we commemorate his death. Christians believe that Jesus was raised after three days. Easter Sunday is the day we celebrate Jesus' rising from the grave. Anyway, Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent.”

“Why the ash on the forehead then?”

“Good question. When we go to church on Ash Wednesday, the priest makes the sign of the cross on our forehead with ash and holy water, saying, Remember you are man, from dust you came and to dust you will return'. It's all very thought-provoking, especially when you're getting long in the tooth, like me.”

“Yeah, that's serious. No not you, getting long in the tooth, love. It's good to be reminded sometimes that we're not here forever. What with all these young ‘uns driving their cars on the road stupid and that. Drinking hard, drugs...wasting their lives. They think they are immortal. They need a good smacking Ash Wednesday, regularly.” We both agree on that.

“The Ash Wednesday rite should make you reflect on how you are living your life now... are you living the Christian way and so on?”

“Yeah, sure. The world would be a better place if everyone thought about others more often.” She makes sure my hair is equal in length on either side of my face. “Are you going away at Easter?” I say, no. “You'd think Easter was tomorrow if you could see all the Easter eggs in the shops. A crazy excuse to sell chocolate, if you ask me, when children are starving on the other side of the world.” I agree with her.

“Do you know what the Easter egg stands for?”
“No.”
“Inside a real egg, the yolk will ultimately develop into a chick; a new chicken, a new life. That's what Easter means - to be born into a new life.”
“That's interesting.”

“Easter, I suppose these days, means ‘renewal'—a spiritual rebirth.”
“I never thought that. Fancy.”
“It's OK, no one can know everything. And that's your religion lesson for today, my dear.”
“Thank you. It was very interesting.”

One of her assistants is ready to colour my persistent grey roots. “I shall definitely be thinking of you at Easter, darling,” she squeezes my shoulder gently as she leaves to attend to another woman with beautiful curly hair. She wants it straightened.

After half an hour, Helene is massaging my scalp and hair with conditioning oil. I close my eyes. My spirit dreams of Easter.

Julieta Gibbons

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