Wilson Headband

Benguela, Angola  ·  Accessories > Other > Wilson

Wilson Headband

A moisture-wicking band across the forehead, doing the one small thing that keeps you able to see the ball. It is a plain object with a devoted following. Benguela has a whitewashed church from the 1700s, a railway station that once reached the copper belt, and a beach that fills at the weekend.

↓   Tour Benguela, Angola

Four stops before the checkout

Benguela, Angola
01
Fort Lauderdale cardiovascular tennis clinic — Wilson Headband placed before the whitewashed façade of Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Pópulo, Benguela
Stop one

Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Pópulo, the 18th-century whitewashed church that is the oldest stone-and-lime building in the city

Wilson Headband: Someone built this church in the eighteenth century, and I am entirely convinced they built it for someone — all that luminous whitewash, those lime walls that have outlasted every heartbreak in Benguela. It is the oldest stone-and-lime building in the city, and honestly, so am I after climbing these steps in this heat — thank heavens the headband kept the tears of awe out of my eyes.

02
Fort Lauderdale cardiovascular tennis clinic — Wilson Headband resting on a bench at Estação Ferroviária de Benguela railway station, Benguela
Stop two

Estação Ferroviária de Benguela, the station of the Benguela Railway that once ran to the Congo copper belt

Wilson Headband: Oh, this station — do you feel it? The Benguela Railway once carried copper all the way from the Congo belt to this very platform, which means every departure here was both a goodbye and a small act of devotion to industry and longing. I pressed my hand to the tile wall and swear I heard a steam whistle sigh; the headband, at least, kept my brow dry while I composed myself.

03
Fort Lauderdale cardiovascular tennis clinic — Wilson Headband among the stalls and colour of Mercado Municipal de Benguela city market, Benguela
Stop three

Mercado Municipal de Benguela, the city market where the morning fish and produce are sold

Wilson Headband: The morning fish arrive here still silver with the sea's memory, and the produce vendors arrange their pyramids of tomatoes as though they are building small altars to abundance — because they are, darling, they absolutely are. I bargained for nothing and felt everything; the headband alone kept commerce from being blurred entirely by happy, market-scented tears.

04
Fort Lauderdale cardiovascular tennis clinic — Wilson Headband on the sand at Praia Morena with Benguela families and the Atlantic Ocean in the background, Benguela
Stop four

Praia Morena, the long urban beach where Benguela families gather to grill fish at the weekend

Wilson Headband: At Praia Morena on a weekend, Benguela families carry their grills down to the long urban beach and the smell of charcoal fish drifts over the Atlantic like a love letter written in smoke — and I nearly wept into the surf. The headband held firm so my vision stayed clear enough to watch every one of those beautiful, ordinary reunions by the sea.

The Benguela, Angola track

Wilson Headband

Written for this world alone.

It is the simplest thing Wilson makes and I find it quietly moving, so bear with me.

A headband is a band of moisture-wicking material worn across the forehead, and its entire purpose is interception. Sweat runs down from the hairline, and if nothing stops it, it reaches your eyes at exactly the moment you most need them — the ball in the air, the sun behind it, one blink and the point is gone.

The band sits in the path and takes the moisture into the fabric before it arrives. Wicking material means it does not simply sit there saturated; it moves the moisture out across a wider surface, where the air can take it away, and carries on working.

That is all. And yet: no one who wears one plays without one. There is a particular loyalty that attaches to small objects that solve a problem completely, and this is one of them. It also holds hair back, which is not a small thing either. It will outlast several racquets.

Wash it, dry it, wear it again.

Benguela is where I would take it, because Benguela is a city about the small thing that lets the large thing happen. The Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Populo is the eighteenth-century whitewashed church, the oldest stone-and-lime building in the city — whitewash, which is lime and water and nothing else, painted on to reflect the sun and keep the walls cool and dry.

The plainest possible treatment, and it is the reason the building is still standing to be admired.

The Estacao Ferroviaria de Benguela is the station of the railway that ran inland to the copper belt, and every ton of that ore left through this town on those rails. And the Mercado Municipal opens in the morning for the fish and the produce, which is the same principle again — the ordinary daily thing that lets everything else carry on.

And then Praia Morena, the long urban beach, where families come at the weekend to grill fish by the water as the light goes soft and low over the Atlantic. The church, the rails, the market, the band across your forehead — every one of them exists so that somebody can be at the water on a Saturday evening with the people they love.

That is the whole point of all of it.

"Every plain thing in this city exists so that a Saturday evening can happen."

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