PUNK GUKAS & CUCUS - A Nywele project

In a far future where authentic African hair has all but vanished, a league of wise elders — the Punk Gukas and Cucus — rise as the last custodians of our legacy. Victims of the Great Appropriation of the 2000s, their timeline witnessed a mass forgetting, where vanity replaced memory, and ancestral hairstyles faded into myth.

But these guardians refused to let the story end there. They’ve broken through time itself — not just to warn us, but to fight for us. To protect what we’re on the brink of losing: the roots, the rituals, the pride in our hair. They are back. And they are not here to ask.

WANJA, the Magistrate

Wanja is “the Magistrate”. She’s the one in charge of all things law when it comes to hair. Like, if it touches African hair, she knows the rules, the history, the loopholes — all of it. In the future she comes from, real African hair became so rare people started trading it on the black market.

Now she sits on her throne, going through old books and scrolls, trying to make sure what happened in her time doesn’t happen again. She’s not loud, but trust — nothing gets past her.

ALUOCH, the Elder of the Fashion Council

Aluoch isn’t just about hair — she sees the full picture. The hair, the fabrics, the way things are draped, stitched, carried. She's studied African fashion deep, and to her, hair has always been part of the whole look — not something that stands alone.

As people started forgetting the meaning behind the styles, they also lost their sense of elegance. The intention. The details. Aluoch is back to remind us. To show us what we’ve stopped seeing. Not to make us look good — but to make us remember why we did in the first place.

KAN’GETHE, the Afrocop

Kan’gethe’s that detective who knows things no one’s supposed to know. They call him Afrocop — not because he works for anyone, but because he’s deep in the streets tracking down the ones messing with African hair. Pirates, traders, fakers — he finds them where no one else can. He’s got eyes in the underworld, ears in seedy joints, and instincts sharper than his fro. People say he can spot a hair pirate just by how they walk into a room. And through it all, his hair? Always on point.

He’s not just cleaning up the mess — he’s tracing it back to where it all began. Finding the individuals who started this whole thing, before their damage becomes permanent.

ALICE, the Artist

Alice never stepped on stage without her hair telling part of the story. Every performance had its own style, crafted to carry the same message as her music. For her, hair was more than presentation — it was part of the art, part of the protest. Every strand said something. In the League, she’s the one who makes sure African hair stays loud in the culture. She’s here to connect hair with music, dance, theatre, fashion — all the spaces where stories live. Because if our hair disappears from our art, it disappears from our memory.

And Alice isn’t about to let that happen.

CHEPKURUI, the Spiritual leader

Chepkurui says our hair is a gift from God. Taking care of it isn’t just about looking good — it’s one of the ways we honor the One who gave it to us. To her, the work we do on our hair is a spiritual process, something sacred, not just a light routine. She believes that when we got disconnected from our spirituality, we started chasing vanity and forgetting the real things.

Most days, Chepkurui stays in the mountains — praying, listening, caring for her own hair. But now, she’s come down. Because some lessons can’t wait, and this generation needs to hear them face to face.

FRANCISCA, the Mwalimu

Francisca doesn’t sugarcoat. To her, hair is political. Always has been. She believes people perish when they don’t understand the forces shaping their lives — the laws, the science, the history that quietly decide what survives and what disappears. She teaches with precision, breaking down how African hair connects to climate, economy, technology, and power. She wants this generation to see the bigger system — to know who benefits when our styles fade, and who loses when they’re gone.

Her goal is simple: arm people with knowledge so sharp, nobody can take what’s ours without a fight.

WAMBUA , the Chair

They call him Mfalme. Gold on his wrists, gold on his robes, hair always looking regal. When he smiles, you see the single tooth — a badge of age, wisdom, and the years he’s carried.

Wambua is the eldest in the council, the only one who actually lived through the fading and the forgetting. He saw it happen in real time — the slow loss of African hair, the slow loss of memory. His job now is to talk about it to anyone who will listen, to make sure we understand what’s at stake.

And even in the seriousness of the fight, he tells us to smile through it. Because joy, like our hair, is part of what keeps us alive.

Thanks to the dope team that made this happen. Starting with Kibera day care for older persons who collaborated with me to shoot this. The elders here were such a pleasure to work and hang with and i’d encourage you to go visit them and support them. You can buy any of these prints from the link below (50% of the proceeds go to the daycare)

Hair by the maestro, Corrine Muthoni. Make up and amazing conversationalist Sophia Riziki. Behind the Scenes photography by Jeremie Onyango who also introduced and welcomed me to the daycare.