The Bite Magazine - Spring/Summer 2026 - Issue 39

bitetheatre At the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre, Lisa Ogun’ attended Jocelyn Bioh’s highly hilarious and thought-provoking play, Jaja’s African Hair Braiding. D irected by Monique Touko, Jaja’s African Hair Braid- ing is a story of love, migration, and Black culture set against the backdrop of a Black hair braiding salon in America, which had the audience squealing with laughter. It’s billed as a ‘bustling Harlem braiding salon, where neigh- bourhood women come to have their greatest hairstyle dreams come true, all in the hands of a lively group of West African immigrant braiders.’ Across one hot summer’s day, these women experience everything in the pressure cooker of the sweltering shop: from demanding customers to secrets and lies, laughter and betray- al. But each of these women has big dreams as well, dreams which increasingly pit them against the city they call home. The sellout performance drew a boisterous audience, which only added to the growing anticipation as we took our seats. Even before the play begins, the set establishes everything: a graffitied shutter stamped Harlem 2019, windows plas- tered with Black women’s hairstyles, JAJA’S AFRICAN HAIR BRAIDING emblazoned above it, and an old bubblegum ma- chine standing outside. Miriam (Jadesola Odunjo) drifts in first, a twenty-something who looks like an early customer, until Marie (Sewa Zamba), Jaja’s daughter who helps run the shop, rushes in late, breath- less under two Ghana Must Go bags. Their punchy yet poign- ant exchange immediately sets the dramedy tone: Miriam is watching her weight to win back Musa in Sierra Leone, while Marie hides her dream of becoming a writer from her mother. “If it’s not a job that screams ‘I make a lot of money’, then it’s pointless to her. So, I can’t tell her I want to write for a living.” When the stage revolves, the salon comprises four stations with long mirrors, a counter stacked with Black hairdressing tools, and an air‑con unit that sounds ready to mutiny. Bea (Dolapo Oni), the eldest stylist, arrives wrapped in Ghanaian Kente cloth and radiating ownership. She brings the familiar banter of an older West African woman: cheeky, entitled, and deep- ly maternal. She and Aminata (Babirye Bukilwa) fill the room with West African auntie banter, humming along to music they can’t quite name. Their first walk-in, Jennifer (Karene Peter), a tentative woman in her twenties, becomes instant prey in the stylists’ competi- tion until she requests micro braids, to the amusement of the stylists and audience. Bea swiftly nominates Miriam for the job, leaving her no choice but to accept with stoic resignation. Miriam surprises both Jennifer and me by whisking her out- side to haggle over the price. In that moment, Bea’s reluctance THEATRE FEATURE