Barbershop Chronicle
This morning I woke up a little earlier than normal- to run a few errands in preparation for Christmas day to be spent with family. I had quite a lot to cover and was very careful how I was going to manage my tight itinerary. One thing I did not include in my schedule was a visit to a barbershop for my regular hair shave. I am not a fussy person but my haircut is important to warrant a reshuffle of plans and immediate route deviation.
I could have picked any barbershop along my way; but the thought of having to give new instructions how my hair should be trimmed was going to prove daunting. The thought of having my hair trimmed to the skull with unsterilized clippers by strangers was also unsettling. I immediately turned back and opted for my regular barbershop and ready to re-prioritize. Besides, this would pretty much give me an opportunity to listen to one more barbershop chronicle before Christmas, and to wish my guys at the shop a Merry Christmas.
I arrived and happened to have walked through the door just when everyone broke out in laughter, and I knew immediately that there is quite an activity cooking inside. I was met by a boy of about 9 -10 years walking out of the door crying and holding his mother’s hand. Looking at his clean shaven head, I assumed he must have done something to deserve a shave like that. A thought came to mind that his peers are trending Mohawks and designer haircuts, especially during the school holidays. Judging by the boys’ haircut, his festive season can safely be concluded messed up with misery of all proportions. “Could it be that his mother did not afford even a simple funky haircut for the little guy just before Christmas? “…I asked myself.
Anyway, before I could even feed my strong desires to know what might have happened to the little man; I found a guy who is a taxi driver, known in my circles and a regular patron at the shop. He had taken a centre stage exchanging the taxi rank chronicles with other patrons, perhaps because there are lots of those during December times. He sent everyone on the floor with laughter, including the barber who made unforgivable injustices to the little boy’s head. I knew immediately that I will have to spend a little bit more time at that place, because I had my own experience to share with them. Some of my commitments would have to be put aside while I enjoy my time at the barbershop, besides its Christmas Eve and there can no longer be a rush. What could not be accomplished this year will be noted next year.
I settled and slouched in our dirty looking tired couch. One particular patron was sharing with us, how they were being promised to get a beating if they do not stop speaking English in a taxi; because the taxi driver felt they were undermining other passengers. The detailed account of taxi chapters continued with no mercy towards our rib cages and bladder. I was next in line to have my hair cut, when another client related in detail how he turned on the air-con and was told by the taxi driver to pay extra R20 for wasting his petrol. This was followed by another gentleman who recounted his experience of a driver’s rage over a missing R1 coin in his taxi.
By then my barber was removing the apron on me and I was ready to share my naughty experience. It happened when I was about 25years old and I was leaving Wits University after a Fresher’s Ball night and had to catch a taxi in the morning to Bara Taxi Rank in Soweto. Having taken a front middle seat of a taxi automatically gives one an accountant status. I became one…….
I wished everyone a Merry Christmas after that account and left them in stitches after having looked at the time. I had a memorable time at the Barber thinking of all the great moments I had this year.
*MT signs out wishing everyone a Merry Christmas of course, until his hair grows again*