In Retrospect, 'Everything Counts'

The goal of this particular blog post is to retell a story from Ama Ata Aidoo's collection of short stories, No Sweetness Here from the perspective of one of the characters. While the story I chose, "Everything Counts" allows the reader to understand the perspective of the main female character, it is written in third person. I will attempt to rewrite the story in her perspective and in this way develop her character's arc from the acceptance of what she use to consider minute changes to the realization that it all counts in the end.

In Retrospect, 'Everything Counts'

I don't understand why my friends always ridicule me about my wig. I don't have the time to waste on my own hair, and has nothing to do with my revolutionary feelings. I always tell them of the importance of revolution and think it a waste of my time and theirs to focus on such small details. If we want change, arguing about these things will only deter us.

The other day, I was talking with the boys at school. I still could not understand how my wearing a wig could have anything to do with the revolution. One told me "Because it means that we have no confidence in ourselves". Though I understood what he meant, I told them exactly how I felt. I said, "Listen, my brothers, if we honestly tackled the problems facing us, we wouldn't have time to worry about such trifles as wigs" (2) and that's exactly what they are, trifles. I will continue to wear my wig as I please, it simply does not mean enough to count in the scheme of things. Africa has too many serious problems that need attention; focusing on a wig is just an easy way out.

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I recently got married to Fifi and could not bear to do it here in Africa. I've just come home to find that everything has changed and I'm not sure what to do. It seems as if there has been some sort of crisis! All the women I knew who had black skin have light skin. And those WIGS! They're everywhere. My mind is spinning and I don't know where to begin. Maybe I can actually promote some kind of change as I begin my job as a lecturer. Yeah, that will be a good avenue to get people thinking and I can tell them what is what. Not only will I tell them that their roles will be crucial in nation building, but I will also reiterate their responsibility to take action.
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What a nightmare! It's hard to imagine that this is really true. The other day as I was lecturing, I could not overcome this pestering jealousy. These young girls were all so beautiful. It wasn't until later that I realized they were all wearing wigs! Not one of them had their natural hair, except me, an outcast. Not only were they all wearing wigs, but they were the biggest ones I've seen so far! It made me so uncomfortable that I did not know what to do. Luckily, I did not faint though I could feel my mind slipping from me. I could only think about what those boys always use to tell me....

Thinking things could only get better from there, I continued my lectures with a faulty optimism. As the weeks went on though, things only got worse. The world as I had known it seemed to flip on its head. Even my relatives, those that were dear to my heart, kept asking such things as "What car are you bringing home, Sissie?" and "oh, we hope you brought a refrigerator. Because you simply cannot find one here these days" (6). How could I tell them that it is the cars, refrigerators, the wigs, and the seemingly small imitations of white men and women that is ruining us, our people, our country, our identities?

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I think because Fifi has been gone, I've become obsessed with this ideal of beauty, or rather, what it has become now. I decided to go to a beauty pageant and though I instinctively knew what was to come, I did not realize how thoroughly disgusting it would be. The girls were not even beautiful and all the contestants wore wigs except one. This one girl free of a wig was the lighest skinned and had perfectly flowing hair (she was a mulatto). Of course, she was the winner!

I rushed home feeling that at any moment all my anger and pain would burst out of me. Tears were uncontrollably rushing down my face. I could not keep anything down and vomited out all my frustration and all my realized fears. I could have been there for days.

I only wish that I had listened to those boys all those years ago. It was foolish of me to dismiss them. In retrospect, I realize now that every little thing counts!

Listen to "Everything Counts" by Depeche Mode :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1t-gK-9EIq4