Henna?

Fatou Bobo suggested I buy a different kind of henna. This kind, she thinks, will turn black, and that will be more beautiful than orange. Sunday morning I ask how many cups I should buy. She says it isn’t sold in cups, “Go to the luumo and ask for ‘nyulal.’ If you ask for ‘nyulal,’ they’ll know.”

At the market I approach a woman sitting behind a barrel of henna and ask if she sells ‘nyulal.’ She directs me to one of the jewelry stands. I decide I must’ve mispronounced or misremembered the word Fatou Bobo told me, but ask anyway. I am handed this box:

 I do not see how either a luxurious mane of hair or a waterfall relate to henna, or how the contents of this small box will be enough to cover two feet, as the woman claims. She claims two boxes costs fifty dalasis and I hand over the money reluctantly, unsure I’m buying the correct product.

Back home, I show Fatou Bobo the boxes.

“Is this it?”
“Yes. Was it expensive?”
“A little expensive.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five.”

Fatou Bobo says we can apply the henna after lunch. Inside the box are two small vials, one filled with a gray powder, the other with a clear liquid. When mixed together, they formed a dark black solution. Fatou Bobo smears it on my feet. “Look! It’s turning black!”

Sinni watches and wonders if “nyulal” is henna. Fatou Bobo, a little defensively, assures her it is, just smell it, just look at the colors it is changing her hand. Sinni agrees. I disagree, but do not say so. "Nyulal" smells nothing at all like henna. It smells nothing at all like anything, actually.

 Fatou Bobo rubs the leftover “nyulal” in Rugi’s hair. A clue? Is hair dye the original purpose, before Gambians commandeered it for henna? Or what if China is the clue? What if “nyulal” is a special ink for calligraphy or something? But neither possibility explains the waterfall…

The next day at school, Isatou Sardines notices the henna on my feet and says it’s beautiful. She wants to know if I’ve taken a picture to show the people in America. I say I had, which is true. “They will say it is beautiful.” “Yes,” I lie, pretty certain the actual response of the American people will be, “How did you get frostbitten in The Gambia?”