Short Stories: Bad Hair Days

Guys, have you ever ditched your barber? I mean, that guy who's been shaving your hair for kinda ten years?

Man, it feels like divorce. (No pun intended though).

I happened to ditch mine sometime back. Relocation things, you know. I've not gotten over it yet.

This is a story of various occasions when I happen to run between three barber shops...

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Hair is like a car: some men can take real good care of it yet some some don't give a... (no cussing please.)

Okay.

There are some barbers who just wouldn't know how to handle your hair. (Yeah ladies, men too have hair, you should go ask Jeff Koinange). The barber either messes it up by shaving it too low, cutting and trimming too deep or charging you too high (as if that one shave is gonna last a year!)

Because of the above, men decide to keep to one barber. This ensures that our heads always look almost the same after every shave; unless you wanna visit another barber and you are forced to change your route of travel or you pretend  that umehama hiyo town.

Let's say, after ditching my barber, I've had a total of three barbers dealing with my hair. You see, ladies and gentlemen, this, to a man, is like veeery serious. It is way too serious.

I've had my hair messed up with.

Well, there is this day when Barber Number 2 really messed up my hair. You know those times when you meet your bae a day after shaving and all she's doing is touching your head or something? Yes. The day when she's like, "Kwani ulinyoa wapi raundi hii?" and you're like, "Si ni pale pangu tu pa kawaida". The lie comes out so glamorously. And after realizing it, you repent silently and inwardly. In the course of your inward mini-repentance, you happen to apologize for ditching your "original" barber.

Man, it feels bad.

"Huyo mtu alikunyoa vibaya. Alikunyoa kama mtoto wa Class 7."

"Class 7? Aaaiii!"

Then you would match to the mirror and look at yourself again: 

"Come on bae, mi naona niko tu sawa." You would reiterate in defense.

"Akiendelea kukunyoa hivo heri basi uanze tu kuvaa uniform: kinyasa na T-shirt ya PE ili uwe ukitoka kinyozi na kuishia kucheza hiyo mpora ya makaratasi..."

After such a bad hair and head experience, do you know what you'll do next time my brazzzas? You'll walk back to Barber Number 1 (your hallowed "original" barber) and tell him you were out of town kidogo that's why he didn't see you last time. There. Problem solved.

But there are times when the story escalates. It is especially when you've visited those "foreign" barbers (like I did) in the name of kwani yeye ndo barber pekee hii town?.

See my experiences below; 

When you shave at night 

The curse of forsaking your barber becomes very real at such a time: the new barber will end up dealing with your precious head like a kid deals with a mango when struggling to peel it.
The barber, just like the kid, is thinking: it's at night, he (or mom won't notice - for the kid) won't even notice how badly I peeled this head. 

You may have closed your eyes in ambient meditation as he shaves you, not so keenly looking at the reflection of your shave in the mirror to see the progress and give corrections here and there, probably thinking about what will go well with the chicken or meat yenye ilibaki jana after dinner. You may be in this state: "Ama nipike tu chapo. Nipike chapo tatu. Aaaargh, hiyo ni stress. Nitapika tu rice. What if mgeni akitokea? Aaaaargh, atajisort tu..." 

And the barber will be doing his thing on your head.

It becomes real in the morning when you are doing your ndevu shave: "Haiya! Ona sasa!! Aka kanywele alikaacha hapa kafanye nini? Kwani I'm competing with Balotelli for hairstyles?" Or you may end up thinking that you now have a role in "Fear the Walking Dead".
Nasty hairstyle.
And that morning, you become a tiny fake barber for the sake of your tarnished countenance.

When you happen to ask Barber Number 2 or 3: "How much should I pay?" after being shaved.
A story was once told me by a friend who had chosen to ditch his "original" barber just for a change. (Like I dared to do.) He had visited these awesome barber shops that look really cool. (Yeah, I happened to visit one of them when I was new in town, and man, the dent they left in my pocket made me decide to shave only after I've located a pocket-friendly barber shop. Ni kama alinilipisha plus pesa ya rent!!)

So, this friend of mine slowly and steadily entered one of those fine barber shops. I'm sure he went in and greeted those fake ninjas: "Semeni bana? Nimeamua kupitia kiasi nipunguze uzee." And typical of such fake ninjas, they would just smile, pull you one of those revolving arm chairs, get a towel, wrap it around your neck and give you special treatment. (New barbers always tend to treat you extra well in order to retain you as their customer.)

So my friend sat down. (When you're on such a chair huwa hufikirii juu ya chapo na chicken. Naaah. Huwa inafikiria vitu mufti mufti.)

I'm sure as my friend closed his eyes thinking about stuff, (because there is no way you make friends with a new barber on the first date with his shaver and pretend to like each other; ati you're talking football, politics, family and stuff, no way) he was thinking of becoming an MCA or some mutated version of Larry Madowo. (Yeah, these chairs seem to want to make you a politician, a hallowed journalist or some news anchor.)

You would probably see my friend smile after imitating Larry in his meditation: trying to forge that wide smile while wearing a tiny suit. Or after pretending to be an MCA: "We are going to pass a motion to impeach this governor!! Tunataka atuambie pesa ya sports alipeleka wapi" yet you have never been a sportsman for kinda forever.

Later, after the shaving was done, he happened to ask him the wrongest question in shaving history: "Boss, sasa nalipa ngapi!?" (There is this unwritten barber shop rule: pay him/her what you always pay your barber. Akikuuliza mwambie: "Hiyo ndio mi hunyolea.")

He should have missed his supper that night. Plus his breakfast the next day. And a bit of lunch. I bet my friend fasted a whole day to compensate for the money loss... Money doesn't come easy, you know.

When power disappears while getting shaved.
This should be the worst case scenario. 

Wait.
There is this day, at 1pm-ish when I visited my "original" barber to get my hair shaved. I rarely shave mchana mchana but I don't know what on earth caused me to want to shave at 1pm.

So I went in, pulled myself the chair and sat there waiting for my hair to be serviced.

Then after 2 minutes of servicing, power went off! Acha nikwambie hakuna mini-nightmare kama ile niliona kwa mirror hapo kwa my original barber shop!!
He had shaved me halfway, down one side of my head. It was kinda half mohawk. Half mohawk, my friend.
Then I started imagining things: "Sasa what if stima zipotee mpaka kesho? So itabidi nimefunga kitambaa kwa kichwa ile style ya Arafat ili nifike home poa? Oooh, nitaomba kofia. Yeah, kofia itawork. But kwani nitavaa cap mpaka kesho? Na hiyo cap ikianguka nikipandda gari jioni je?"

You see? Stima isiwahi potea ukinyoa.

But again, I dread waking up one day and all I have on my head is this:

I think the only thing I may do that week is going to church. :-) 

Please, guys, have a good hair day... And, eehh, don't ditch your barbers.

Bonface Morris.