Leymah Gbowee Schnugg: The Day Her Wig Flew into the Ocean

By Leymah Gbowee Schnugg
If my mama had been there, she would have laughed herself silly. But she wasn't. She was back home in Liberia, sipping tea with her friends, none the wiser about the comical disaster that had befallen her daughter in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
Ah, the Atlantic Ocean, I thought, as I dipped my toes into the crystal-clear water. I had always dreamed of visiting this majestic body of water, but I had never imagined that my first encounter would be quite so...unforgettable.
As the ship set sail from the port of Dakar, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. I had heard so many stories about the vastness and beauty of the ocean, and I couldn't wait to experience it for myself.
I had spent hours planning my outfit for the occasion. I had chosen a flowing, white dress that would accentuate my curves and a pair of heels that would make me feel tall and confident. And of course, no outfit would be complete without a wig.
I had spent a small fortune on this wig. It was made of human hair, and it was the perfect shade of chocolate brown. I had even had it styled into a glamorous bob that would make Beyoncé jealous.
I felt like a million dollars as I stepped out onto the deck of the ship. The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing through my hair, and I was surrounded by the sound of laughter and music. It was the perfect day to be alive.
I don't remember much about the early part of the voyage. I spent most of the time exploring the ship, marveling at its size and grandeur. But as the day wore on, I started to feel a little queasy.
The ship was rocking back and forth, and the waves were getting bigger and bigger. I tried to ignore the nausea, but it was getting harder and harder to do so.
I excused myself from the party and went to my cabin to lie down. As I lay there, trying to calm my stomach, I heard a knock at the door.
"Come in," I said weakly.
The door opened, and a steward entered the room. "Excuse me, miss," he said, "but there seems to be a problem."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Your wig," he said, "it's flown off the ship."
I sat up in bed and gasped. "My wig?" I cried.
"Yes," he said, "it appears that the wind caught it and blew it overboard."
I couldn't believe it. My beautiful, expensive wig was gone, lost to the depths of the ocean.
I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I just sat there in disbelief, staring at the steward.
"I'm so sorry," he said, "but there's nothing we can do now. It's gone."
I nodded numbly. "I know," I said. "Thank you."
The steward left, and I lay back down on the bed. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but all I could think about was my lost wig.
I eventually drifted off to sleep, but my dreams were haunted by images of my wig floating away in the ocean, carried by the waves.
When I woke up, the ship was still rocking back and forth, but the nausea had subsided. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
As I looked in the mirror, I couldn't help but laugh. I looked like a drowned rat. My hair was matted and tangled, and my face was pale and drawn.
But I didn't care. I had lost my wig, but I had gained a story that I would never forget.
I went back to the deck and joined the party. I danced and laughed and sang, and for a while, I forgot all about my lost wig.
But every now and then, I would catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window, and I would remember. And I would smile.
After all, it's not every day that you lose your wig in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.