[I wrote this in November]
Most adult men in Lubumbashi keep their hair very, very short, if not shaved completely. In Seattle, I kept my hair fairly short, but I wasn’t about to shave my head or get a buzz cut. Most barbers probably don’t have any experience cutting hair like mine; we weren’t going to let that stop us, however. We found a salon a couple of blocks from our apartment that looked reasonably good and had a young male barber, who, when we asked, said he could cut hair like mine. Which he could, and he did, but I wonder how many times he had cut straight hair before!
It was the middle of a hot October afternoon, and I got sweaty just walking there. The shop was air-conditioned and wasn’t too warm, but there was no air under the black nylon sheet and the sweat started to run down my back. The barber started with scissors that pulled a little with every cut, then used clippers over my whole head in a single direction. That wasn’t what I was used to. Then he left to get a new “Gillette”, which is the generic term for a double-edged razor blade. He unwrapped it and, pressing it against a comb with his thumb, used it to cut, shape, and thin my hair. It reminded me of a thinning device my mom used on me growing up.
I started sweating again for a different reason when he held the bare blade between his fingers and trimmed the top of my cheeks, my neck, and around my ears. I tried to hold completely still, feeling beads of sweat rolling down my lower back, while he scraped the bare razor blade against my skin.
Karen was having her toenails done and provided some feedback, getting him to thin the back a little bit more. Depending upon the light & and angle, the haircut could look pretty good, but Karen laughed uncontrollably for the first 48 hours or so every time she looked and saw an especially bad angle. We later found out about the hairdresser that all the expats use, and she cleaned me up.
It was the middle of a hot October afternoon, and I got sweaty just walking there. The shop was air-conditioned and wasn’t too warm, but there was no air under the black nylon sheet and the sweat started to run down my back. The barber started with scissors that pulled a little with every cut, then used clippers over my whole head in a single direction. That wasn’t what I was used to. Then he left to get a new “Gillette”, which is the generic term for a double-edged razor blade. He unwrapped it and, pressing it against a comb with his thumb, used it to cut, shape, and thin my hair. It reminded me of a thinning device my mom used on me growing up.
I started sweating again for a different reason when he held the bare blade between his fingers and trimmed the top of my cheeks, my neck, and around my ears. I tried to hold completely still, feeling beads of sweat rolling down my lower back, while he scraped the bare razor blade against my skin.
Karen was having her toenails done and provided some feedback, getting him to thin the back a little bit more. Depending upon the light & and angle, the haircut could look pretty good, but Karen laughed uncontrollably for the first 48 hours or so every time she looked and saw an especially bad angle. We later found out about the hairdresser that all the expats use, and she cleaned me up.
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