Get a Cut or Get Cut, Your Choice (Except Wednesdays)

I know that you have all been anxiously waiting for me to get my hair cut once again, and I’m sorry but it does tend take a good 3 weeks until that time rolls around again! But don’t you fret, the hair hit the usual awkward spot and I decided to venture to my usual spot for a trim, and I have an even better story than the first! So I’ll stop all this introduction mamble jamble and get to the goods.

Outside of the experiences from last time like the stares from the shop full of African men, the blaring hip hop music, the buckets of Vaseline, and of course the grease for your added enjoyment, you can add a near horrible experience to that list of goodies. I was right at the climax of my hair cutting experience, you know, as they are dusting off the loose hair and reaching for the grease. Maybe you don’t know actually, my bad. Regardless, it was right as this time that I noticed a discussion that was taking place right beside me. When I say discussion I think I really mean argument. I’ve been around arguments plenty of times before, usually it is centered around who the better basketball team is between my brothers and I (Clearly there is no argument this year.), or my mom and dad trying to determine who was snoring last night (It’s always dad, but he puts up a good fight). This was not like that. One, this was in another language. B, it was in two other languages so neither of the individuals fighting understood what the other was saying, and I understood neither. From the little Afrikaans that I do understand I was able to pick up from the mad individual that he wanted his phone back and that my barber had either taken it or something of the like. Cell phone theft is pretty common around the Manenberg area because you can make a quick R50 or more and that is good money for drugs. I am not sure how the plaintiff was able to track his stolen phone down, but I am judging from his posse that went with him that he didn’t use the nicest measures. I do not understand any Xhosa and so I was not sure what my barber was saying at all, but from his motions and pointing at me and other clients he was saying that he did have the phone but it was at his house and after he finished cutting our hair he would go get it. The other man was not satisfied with this and called one of his goons who began to reach for something. At this point I may have peed my pants just a little. Sorry for the graphic detail, but it is true! I was considering my next move if he pulled out a gun. One side of me would be the extra quick and suave hero and tackle the guy and save the day, but the real side of me was looking for a good place to hide in a trailer. Luckily, it was not a gun, but it was a whip that he had tied around his arm that he then wrapped around his knuckles. At this point I regretted not buying the Chuck Norris kickboxing package set for the low low price of $19.99. If I had then I could have given him a swift kick to the jugular and ended the entire problem, but I took the “rational” road and told myself that Chuck Norris was a joke and I didn’t need his teaching, lesson learned. The man began to get in the barber’s face and make threats in Afrikaans that I would assume weren’t in the uplifting manner that the Bible would recommend, but I did not see this as a time to tell him that. But, and if I have lost you in my random side notes I apologize, I tend to make jokes to cover up for things that make me look vulnerable. But, I saw out of the corner of my eye a gang member from the American’s gang that I have befriended come running towards the shop. I also know that this guy has killed a man so I assumed that he was just looking for some more fun, but quite the opposite. He broke up the fight and within a few minutes had everyone sorted out and was walking the upset man to get his phone back. As I was leaving he stopped me with this huge grin on his face and told me, “I knew you was in there Tobs, I got your back!” I played it off like I didn’t need him to get my back, but I remember the feeling I felt when I saw him running. A familiar face. A man who stood up for me when he didn’t have to. Not that I was in any serious danger or anything, but he came to my rescue. I gave him a hug and went on my way, but I’ll never forget that haircut.

Although, it wasn’t the best all-around service that I have ever received. I didn’t even get the grease, which is included in the price. I don’t think I will argue it though, I’ve made it 21 years without being whipped (Outside of the corporal punishment I received from my father); I think I could go a few more!

By the way, I realize that it may seem that I don’t do much over here because I only post about getting my hair cut and ridiculous things like that, but I assure you that I do other things! I just don’t write about the day-to-day things because I have these exciting things to write about!

Also, this might be one of my last posts. I am going on a safari next week. I know you’re jealous so don’t even try to act like you aren’t!