The Barber

Hair Cut


The Barber

Over the weekend I hit the barber. It has since become routine. In fact I look forward to this visit. It’s defining, livid and worth ago.

The station neighboring mine was aboard a young boy of age Nine-Ten or there about. The kid sat sinking in the couch as if he was not there, eyes closed as the “Surgeon” explored his trade. He dint move an inch. Neither did he open his eyes but he seemed to enjoy the entire process. Or is it that he’s just but a lazy boy and he enjoyed the sleep not the shave! Perhaps he is shy and closing his eyes was the easiest way to take a break from the world. It is as well possible that he dint find the place as welcome. Sleep for him was an alternative escape.

My mind drifted back in time to a time of his age. Shaving then was not as religious as it is now. In fact it was scary. No one looked forward to that day unless you were the types that never crossed paths with their mothers. Speaking of mothers, shaving was all about mothers. She was the ‘surgeon’ here. Not some guy with a protruding beard dressed in a white overall; the chaps who appear like they are just coming out of medicine school. I doubt as to whether then shaving was distinguished a business it is now.

Nothing was ever announced. It was surprise! Surprise! “Go bring stuff. Here take this over there” she would say and hush “please make haste back I need you go to the shops” As you come back, she was ready for a battle; her only tool of trade hidden around the place. She sat parched on a low-lying stool and asked you sit down your head supported in between her legs. The scissors interacted noisly with the scalp. On rare occasions you were lucky enough if the cut dint go as deep. On and on she went. “Ouch. Sob. Sob.” Over and over as the metal missed the hair and caught up with the skin. The situation was worse on the days you had disobeyed her. The shave would turn to a combination of both service and punishment! Of course it was common that here and there the scissors would slip slightly miss the hair and cut the skin but it’s openly evident when the cut is intentional. In fact she was always the first to apologize at the point she did it intentionally.

“Sorry. Does it pinch?”

Of course it does!

“Sorry but I have to finish. Or you will go to school half shaven. Will you?”


Boyi dint I warn you of this behavior?”

Which one mum?

“Dint I ask you a question?”

Okay I won’t go to school half shaven. No I won’t. Stellar will make fun of me. No I won’t!

“Who is Stellar?”

Stellar is a girl.

“Right Stellar is a girl. So you started playing with girls. Is it the reason your performance dropped last term?”

No mum. I don’t play with girls. It’s Stellar who keeps saying I have curly hair.


Back to that boy. The poor kid slept through the entire session. Boring. Right? Okay I will never sleep during a shave or is it a barber session? Am very particular with how I always want my hair done. I don’t want a bald head; some chaps will just thinking am recovering from chemotherapy sessions! I used to keep long hair but that’s as the Broadways guys put it; when your grandfather was still a teenager! Long hair is tedious especially when you have a busy routine to boot. The only advantage is all the girls love it. Perhaps they think you are one of them or trying to be one of them. For the guys who keep long hair, Salute!


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