… was definitely not on a haircut. Fifty cents on a lollipop or a pack of gum, sure, but not for something as precious as the Jesus hair. Even today as I walked towards my hairless doom I was asked if I was a Jew from Israel (like Jesus). Well it will be a long time before anyone makes that mistake again!

Every week and a half or so I cruise to the kinyozi (barber shop) and get my beard trimmed for about thirty cents; it’s a good deal and they do a great job. Because my hair is getting to be too long, I asked if he’d be able to cut my hair and he enthusiastically said, “Yes! I can do it.” After a few rounds of “Really? Are you sure?” I decided I’d go for it. How bad could it be?

Pretty bad, it turns out. Already wary of African hair cutting technique because of Sara’s experience earlier this year, I spent a few minutes explaining what I wanted done: no “style,” just a trim, and basically “make it look like it would have two months ago.” You know, cut a quarter inch here, half inch there. I handed him the pair of hair cutting scissors I had brought, and he started snipping away! I asked if he wanted to get it wet and he said, “No, it must be dry.” And then he resumed grabbing large areas of hair and cutting. One inch here, one and a half there…

So “A” for effort, but… I think I might do it myself next time. hahaha!