Kenya

Hair Cutting Time Again

Getting a haircut in Kenya is a big deal. I figure in the two years I’ve been here I’ve gotten eight or so haircuts (the best of those being Sara’s). I can specifically remember three that were terrible, but I’m gonna go ahead and round that up to four because I’m sure that’s a more realistic figure. Here’s a few notes about the haircut I just got tonight in Westlands after work:

  • My heart dropped and stayed in my stomach for the entire twenty-minute ordeal.
  • Why did it take him so long to find the scissors, and why are all the other (Kenyan) men only getting their beards trimmed?
  • I should be put asleep for these kinds of procedures.
  • Is this guy drunk? Why isn’t one of those nice-looking, fashionable ladies cutting my hair instead?

Despite all that, I’ve now washed and touched up my hair with my pair of scissors and it’s not looking so bad after all. I also bought a new pair of shoes to replace the beat-up pair I already had, so tomorrow I’ll probably cause a scene at work when everyone sees the “new” Alan. HAHA!

Also, stay tuned: pictures of the marathon are out, but I haven’t sorted through them all!

4 Comments to “Hair Cutting Time Again”

  1. Hey! i just spent some time paging back through your old posts, so i’m now caught up with alan-ville!
    your new place looks sweet! are you staying there indefinitely? i have exactly 5 more days as a volunteer! woot

  2. Craig

    I’m one week into a four-week gig in Nairobi working with UNICEF; just stumbled across your blog and I’m enjoying it very much, although I really live firmly within the “bubble” of the Intercontinental/Tribe/UNICEF and across the street to Nyayo House.

    I had my hair cut the very morning before I got on the plane, and it so happened that the woman who cut my hair had another client who had been in Kenya just a few months prior, and had been obliged to seek out a local barber. “They didn’t have a lot of experience with your kind of hair,” she observed drolly (my stylist that morning was an African-American), and then I started laughing and she cracked up too and had to put down the clippers for a moment. “But I bet they made it shorter for him,” I said. “Oh, they did. I had to do a lot of work to fix him back up.”

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