IYA SÈÈGÍ GOSSIP & GLAM SALON🛍️ CHAPTER ONE

 

IYA SÈÈGÍ GOSSIP & GLAM SALON🛍️

When Hair Gets Styled 🪮and Secret Get Spilled

CHAPTER ONE

#storiesnseries #shortstory #shortseries

The midday sun hung lazily over Beere, casting long shadows through the narrow streets. A warm breeze carried the scent of fried akara and roasting corn, mingling with the sharp tang of hair relaxer wafting from Iya Sèègí Gossip & Glam Salon. The small shop stood proudly at the corner of a bustling street, its bright yellow sign slightly faded by years of sun and rain.

Inside, the scent of coconut oil and shea butter filled the air as the rhythmic sound of hands weaving through hair played like music. The salon was alive with chatter, laughter, and the occasional hiss of someone lamenting their struggles.

Iya Sèègí herself, a stout woman with a wrapper tied firmly around her waist, stood behind her client stool, fingers expertly parting the hair of her latest customer, Iya Yusufu. She was known for her sharp tongue and even sharper braiding skills. No secret was too sacred in her salon—once you sat on her stool, your story became communal property.

“Ah-ah, Iya Yusufu, why you dey vex like this? Your face be like person wey dem pour hot water,” Iya Sèègí teased as she tugged gently at her customer’s scalp.

Iya Yusufu sighed heavily, adjusting the edge of her faded Ankara wrapper. “My sister, if I talk wetin my eye see, na only God fit save me.”

The other women in the salon paused. Ears perked up, hands slowed. This was why they came here—not just for hair but for gist.

“Talk, talk!” one of them urged, shifting closer.

Iya Yusufu sniffed and shook her head. “Hmmm. Imagine say na you, after everything wey you don do for your husband, he go carry woman enter una matrimonial room.”

A collective ehn! echoed through the salon.

Iya Sèègí let out a dry chuckle, twisting another section of Iya Yusufu’s hair. “Abeg, no shake head, talk am well. How e happen?”

Iya Yusufu sucked her teeth. “Na so I comot go market that day o. As I reach house, I hear sound for room. First, I think say my pikin dey play. Na when I open door gbam, I see am. My own husband, my own lawfully wedded husband, dey press another woman for my bed!”

A dramatic gasp swept through the salon.

“And you no faint?” one of the women asked.

Iya Yusufu scoffed. “Faint? I be small pikin? I jump enter room wan drag the girl commot. My sister, before I fit raise hand, na so she use hot slap reset my brain.”

A burst of shocked laughter erupted.

“Wait, wait,” Iya Sèègí said, pausing mid-braid. “You mean say na the side chic beat you?”

“She beat me o!” Iya Yusufu cried, clapping her hands together in frustration. “She tear my cloth, slap my face like I be her housegirl. Na so my yeye husband stand there dey look. After she don beat me finish, he say make I no embarrass am.”

Some of the women gasped in horror, others hissed in disbelief.

“And your mother-in-law nko? She no talk?” another woman asked.

Iya Yusufu’s lips twisted in disgust. “Talk? My dear, na she even come my house later, tell me say no be everything woman dey fight for. Say man na man, say make I learn how to endure.”

A deep silence fell over the room. Then, Iya Sèègí snorted. “Kai, see suffering! So your husband cheat, the girl beat you, and your mama-in-law come tell you make you cope?”

Iya Yusufu nodded miserably.

Iya Sèègí sighed dramatically, tying a long attachment into the cornrow she was braiding. “My dear, you see ehn, you no get problem. Just stay there. Endure. Be patient. If you lucky, e go even carry second wife come join am.”

The salon erupted in laughter.

Iya Yusufu sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Iya Sèègí, abeg, no use me joke.”

“Who dey joke?” Iya Sèègí replied with exaggerated innocence. “Abi you no hear say endurance dey lead go heaven? My sister, make you just accept say na so life be. If dem beat you again, just turn another cheek.”

Another round of laughter followed.

Iya Yusufu let out a small, wry smile. “Hmm, God go judge una.”

“God go judge who?” Iya Sèègí teased. “Abeg, turn your head, make I finish this cornrow before you go say I dey delay you. And if you get better plan, abeg, tell us—I no dey put mouth for couples matter but if no sey you no fit endure comot but no be say so.”

Iya Yusufu hiss softly “I no get any plan, no husband for outside”

“Na why I no fit advice make you comot o my sister” Iya Sèègí said.

After a long chat, she finished the braids, neatly parted and well plaited.

In Iya Sèègí Gossip & Glam Salon, no secret was too big, no shame too deep. Here, hair got styled, and secrets got spilled—whether you liked it or not.