The Day I Let the Barber Do his Thing
When I moved to Jos in 2022, like every other person in a new environment, I didn't find it easy adapting. Back in Sokoto, I knew where to get what, I knew who had cheaper groceries and supplies, but most importantly, I knew which barber had been in the game for longer. In Sokoto, when I lived in the barracks, Jim Beglin (I can't remember his real name now) cut my hair. I would instruct him to not carve my hairline (for obvious reasons). When he passed out from national service, I went to a guy just outside the gates of the barrack to cut my hair.
A week after I visited Jim Beglin
The shop had tiled floors and the walls were painted white and grey. A mirror ran from one corner of the wall to the other, the designated barbing booth. By the wall opposite the door, there was a long leather couch where clients sat and waited. On the wall opposite the barbing booth, a large television showing movies on Africa Magic Family channel hung. Overall, the shop was neat and beautifully decorated, the very reason I decided to trust the barber with my receding hairline. Will you believe if I told you that that decision was a disaster? A grand disaster!
I found another one in the slums of Offa Road. Compared to the last barbershop, this one falls short in many ways. The couch here was worn. The mirror cracked in so many places and the walls were dirty. The only thing that was standard about this barbershop is the bright lighting. My friend recommended the barber. I didn't like him at first but I gave him a chance. We argued over what I wanted. He didn't like that I didn't trust him but he followed my instructions anyway. The result was satisfactory and for the next six or seven months, I went to this barbershop every fortnight.
Offa Road!
I left Sokoto, and one of the things that bothered me when I got to Jos was where to cut my hair. I went with my nephews to barber their hair. There, I decided to take a chance with their barber, I wasn't satisfied with the result despite the fact that I coordinated the barbers operation with instructions.
Another week, another barber. Still not satisfied. By now, my hairline looked like it was trying to finish a relay race in record time. It was quite bothering because I wasn't thirty yet, but my hairline was looking like that of someone in their forties. So, I did not visit any barber for more than a month. I had shaves off my beards so I only used very to remove new growth. But soon, I began to look like I was homeless. I decided to look for a new barber.
I wore hats to hide my ugly hair
By my eighth month in Jos, I found the perfect barbershop. There was nothing outlandish about this one. I was skeptical about the price. I did not expect anything good for three hundred naira, that's right, three hundred Nigerian naira (NGN300). I did not bother to give him instructions. I asked him to do his best. He asked if a three step cut was fine and I affirmed. Ladies and gentlemen, when I looked at the mirror when he was done, it was the best cut I got in a very long time, better than my Offa Road barber. He faded the second step so well my receding hairline wasn't obvious. Perhaps, if I'd not been giving instructions to my previous barbers, maybe, just maybe we would not have had issues with my hairline.
Life lesson: Allow professionals do their job, they are trained to do it, you're not!
You know, I've also had similar encounters, I later learnt not to judge barbers by how lucrative their shops are, we have good barbers that can deliver very well with modest shops the problem now is how to find one:)