The Friendship Salon
Photos and interviews byGiles Duley in Bidibidi, Uganda
23 July 2020
The Friendship Salon
Photos and interviews by Giles Duley in Bidibidi, Uganda23 July 2020
Khemisa Mary, 26, fled South Sudan in 2016. Her hairstyle is known as the Dududu, which means caterpillar.
These eight women opened a salon that is spreading hope in one of the world’s largest refugee settlements.
When Sarah Aba speaks of home, she recalls pleasant afternoons with her friends, taking a break from work to braid each other’s hair.
“It was a time when we laughed and gave each other advice,” she says wistfully. “Now I don’t know where any of them are.”
When Sarah Aba speaks of home, she recalls pleasant afternoons with her friends, taking a break from work to braid each other’s hair.
“It was a time when we laughed and gave each other advice,” she says wistfully. “Now I don’t know where any of them are.”
Born and raised in South Sudan, Sarah, now 25, was forced to flee her home in 2016, as the world’s youngest country slid deeper into civil war.
Both sides in the conflict targeted civilians, worsening the impact of famine and displacing nearly four million people. Around 80 per cent were women and children, and half – some two million people – sought refuge in neighbouring countries like Uganda.
This huge displacement has fractured communities and families. South Sudanese traditionally grow up within a tight network of family, extended family, village, clan, tribe; these connections and loyalties are from birth. So for those who suddenly find themselves alone, often for the first time, building new friendships and community is hard. Young mothers can find themselves especially isolated in the new surroundings of a refugee camp. This has triggered a rise in suicides among young women.
Sarah Aba, 25
“Everybody I know, I knew from the moment I was born.”
Sarah battled depression after arriving alone in Bidibidi refugee settlement in Uganda. Back home, she explains, most tasks, including bringing up children, were done communally. But here, with nobody she knew around her, she found herself struggling.
As one UNHCR staff member said, “Loneliness is the greatest killer for South Sudanese refugees.”
Banding together, Sarah and seven fellow South Sudanese refugee women decided to do something about the isolation. They set up a hair salon in Bidibidi refugee settlement.
Bidibidi, near the town of Yumbe in northern Uganda, is the world’s second largest refugee settlement. Now home to nearly a quarter of a million South Sudanese, it is like a small city, and with the support of the Ugandan government, UNHCR and other agencies, many refugees have set up small businesses.
For the women who run it, the salon is more than just a way to earn money.
Sarah and her peers wanted to build their own community for single mothers, a place where they could support each other and build their own family. It keeps them busy, stopping them from spending time alone thinking about what has happened. Many have lost family members, husbands, children.
“It’s difficult for women to talk and tell stories,” says Sarah, who is something of a mother to the group. “In the salon, when something is wrong we can tell, and so we ask, we talk and together we find answers.”
Susan Mordn, 23
Susan’s hairstyle is known as the Kura, which means unity.
When all the tribes of South Sudan come together like the braids of hair, she says, we will have peace.
Celina Amana, 25
Banda Pembeni, the name of Celina’s hairstyle, means “Better put that other partner aside.”
As a member of the cooperative, Celina is grateful for a place to connect with others.
“When I arrived, I had a small child, was pregnant, my husband had disappeared, I was so alone. But being together you find solace in each other’s stories.”
The women also see the salon as a business. Although they had no formal training before opening it, they are all committed to making it a success, and what small money it brings in goes to supporting their children.
“Why do you think we make so much effort into looking this good?” said Mary Sande, one of the proprietors. “If somebody sees us, they say, ‘I want to look that good!’ So they ask where I got my hair done and they come here. We are walking adverts for the salon!”
Yeno Lili, 24
Yeno’s hairstyle is called the Banda Inje, which means, “Husband, don’t think about marrying another woman.”
Ariye Margret, 20
Ariye’s hairstyle, the Stamina, takes its name from the title of a song that brought Ugandan singer Eddy Kenzo to fame.
But it was Ronnie, the dancer in Kenzo’s music video, whose relentlessly energetic moves wowed the nation. His hairstyle was iconic, and it was soon being copied in salons across the region.
There is another reason why the community they have created is important to them. South Sudan has seen an upsurge in sexual violence in recent years. Women, who are often fleeing alone with their young children, are regularly targeted by the various factions. Even here in the camps, women living alone are often victims of sexual and gender-based violence.
“Many women here are scared and hide themselves,” says Yeno Lili. “But we are proud to look good, to stand out and be seen as women. Why should we hide? Together we feel safer.”
The salon operates out of a small hut draped with plastic sheeting and canvas. It has no hair dryers, or even any electricity. In fact, the women have to work with the most basic of equipment: a couple of combs, a brush, some scissors and a mirror. But that hasn’t stopped the salon from becoming a huge success.
Moriba Joyoce, 24
A variation on the Stamina.
Mary Sande, 20
Another variation of the Stamina.
“In South Sudan I had a big extended family,” says Mary Sande. “I knew everyone in the village. But when I arrived here, I was alone. My husband left. I had two children. There was nobody to advise me, to turn to for support. I thought about things too much. Then I found this group, the salon. They are my family.”
These photos were taken before COVID-19. As the pandemic spread, the women temporary closed the salon and focused their energy on preparing nursery beds for farming to help vulnerable members of the community. Now, as the lockdown eases in Uganda, they are preparing to reopen the salon.
