Little People Problems

I don't exactly remember when it all started, but that's of little importance and it was bound to happen anyway.

During my time in elementary school, I suffered from what I thought was a medical condition, which, upon inquiring, I learned required no medical attention.

Basically, I had a spatially big forehead.

I did not think of it as a problem, but other kids around me seemed to do, which for a very impressionable little boy, meant that it was a problem.

I remember, in particular, one kid who took serious offense to my forehead and its blocking of his view or something. I was never sure of the exact reason.

He was not the only one to bring it to my attention, as if I were supposed to take corrective action, but he was one of the constant volunteers for the task.

"Hey, what's up with your forehead? You should have it checked out."

You see, I was born with it. People who have come to know me recently think that I lost some hair. No! I've always had a big forehead. That's actually next on m
y to-do list.

It's as if having a lighter-than-average skin tone and very curly hair (unlike any of my siblings) that didn't pair well with the skin were not enough of a reason to be placed in a metaphorical cage at the zoo that was my elementary school.

I guess everyone was bugging everyone, but I remember vividly that I wanted nothing to do with anyone and was confused when everyone did not feel the same way. Besides, the big forehead increased the frequency of mockery and harassment from low-IQ people surrounding me at the time.

It was survival of the meanest by any means necessary.

Being placed between the same four walls with that kid for five years spanning from second until sixth grade provided him with many opportunities to express his amazement, fascination and suggestions for what should be done about it.

"I'm gonna get a hammer and put a nail in the middle of your forehead."

I never really got that reference, but it was not a prerequisite for him to shout it out in front of everyone and getting a few laughs out of it.

"Does he want to hang a painting on my forehead?" I thought. The vocalization of my thought did not prove to be a very smart move because it turned out I was basically giving him ammunition to shoot me with.

Oh well, we learn from our mistakes.

There was no logic. There was no sense. The kid with the strongest 'burn' wins. Period.

Unfortunately, I didn't recognize that at the time. I just stood there confused after everyone left scratching the infinite space of my forehead.

I'd get the occasional chance to hit back every once in a while. I remember he used to have some white hairs that other kids used to make fun of him for. I'd get a stab at that whenever I needed to defend myself for having a large empty space between my eyebrows and hairline.

However, he used to weed out the white hairs or dye them, which eliminated his weak spot and hid his insecurity well, but there was no way to hide what was then my insecurity as well as he did.

I would not label that kid as a nemesis or even an enemy. I remember he once offered me a solution to my curly hair ‘problem,’ a.k.a. my case of 'falafel' hair.

If you're wondering, curly hair is called 'falafel' hair here for some reason. It really does sound like a made-up stereotype.

- Do you know what Middle Eastern people call curly hair?
- No, what?
- 'Falafel' hair.
- BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Even though there isn't any resemblance or logic, curly hair is 'falafel' hair.

"Get on with it. It's your problem now!" the world was implicitly saying.

Anyway, that kid told me about a brand of children's shampoo that solved 'his' curly hair 'problem.'

He offered me a glimpse of hope at the time.

I thought to myself, “If he is right and it solves my falafel hair issue, then I'd only need to worry about my big forehead."

What seemed odd at the time was that his hair was not curly, and I did not recall it to ever be, but I thought, “Maybe it's because the shampoo is working for him!"

It all added up, so I saved up 10 riyals from my 10-riyal weekly allowance (the equivalent of about $2.50), walked by myself to the pharmacy and got it.

The pharmacist probably thought it was just a kid buying a kid's shampoo. Nothing weird about that in these parts.

I went home immediately after purchasing it and took a shower to try it out.

After conducting the well-thought-out experiment, I was surprised at its findings.

The shampoo did not work!

I figured it might be because it required repetitive application until the effect was produced so I tried it again, and again, and again.

Still got nothin'. It's falafel hair all over.

I figured he was probably just pranking me and laughing as I stood in the bathroom on top of the little step looking disappointedly at my hair in the mirror.

"That bastard tricked me!" I yelled at the mirror with a clenched fist.

I confronted him the next day at school, and he was genuinely surprised it didn't work and expressed his sorrow and disappointment that he could not be of any 'help.'

I still have no idea what ever the hell that all was about.

I remember near the end of the elementary school era, during one of my many fights with one of the neighbor’s kids, he called me out on my forehead.

To me, it was as if I were sitting in a crowd and so many different shitty stand-up comedians were coming out one after another and performing the same shitty routine over and over again.

At the time, I had started to develop defense mechanisms by taking the conversation in weird directions to drive the attention away to something their brains could not process on the spot so I heckled him to see if that would deter him.

"What would you like me to do about my big forehead?"

He had nothing to say. He needed time to brainstorm and I caught him off-guard; an instant burn.

With time, I developed more sophisticated techniques for deflections and eventually, my facial features and body grew so my forehead was not as pronounced anymore. Kids became more curious about their own body parts and the average IQ of the people around me increased until it was weird when people introduced my forehead into a discussion without clear justification for why they were doing so.

After graduating elementary school, the kid who used to raise awareness about the size of my forehead and I went to different middle schools.

My forehead was not and did not become an integrated and inseparable part of that middle school's popular culture as was the case in elementary school.

A year into middle school, I accidentally ran into him. I was surprised.

I had grown a few inches since the last time I saw him, but he remained exactly where I left him.

We had nothing but good things to say to each other. It seemed like a cheap shot to make fun of the fact that he was not up to the level of my forehead anymore, but haven't they always been cheap shots?

It might have been the fact that we, or at least I, grew up since the last time we saw each other. Other people had probably given him shit about it already. It didn't matter. Like I said, all I ever wanted was to be left alone.

However, the child in me wishes that for a brief period of time, he got to experience what it feels like to be made fun of for something he had no control over and cannot hide despite how superficial it may be.

Was he just being mean? Was he doing it because other kids did the same thing to him? Was he just influenced by the environment we were in and did it so he can fit in at my own expense? Or was he genuinely bothered by the size of my forehead?

I guess I'll never know.

The worst thing about elementary school was that no one gave me the heads up about what was to come, and I had no idea whether it was going to be like that forever or if it were going to stop after a while and when.

I'm not sure whether that experience helped shape my personality in any shape or form. I am a completely different person from when I was 18, let alone 10. I think it probably did but in ways that I cannot grasp.

Why am I writing about this now? I just thought the whole thing was too stupid to ever take place in reality and would make for a funny blog post. If you want to feel sorry, do it for people who may be going through their own modified versions of the story now and be aware of the little assholes that might be around you.

  

I don't know what ever happened with that kid or with any other kids from elementary school. Or even middle school. Or even high school.

I got to meet and know more interesting and nicer people and Facebook was not invented until I was in college, thank god for that!