It is not easy looking for your barber if your hair has overgrown and you look like a bushman. It is even more serious if your moustache has crossed carpet and is seen entering into your nostrils, some straying into your left ear.
The problem is that some of us do not like changing barbers. My barber, for instance, is a very short akupa who often has to stand on his toes to reach the top of my head. But I maintained him because he understands the international shape of my head and gives me the right cut. Moreover, he has promised never to cut my ears.
Although, he has been cutting my hair for the last five years, I still do not know his name. I’ve never asked and he has never told me. It is a business relationship, not a family affair. He comes at certain specified dates, does his job, gets paid and vanishes.
When he was supposed to cut my hair two weeks ago, I waited in vain. Last weekend he didn’t show up either. Was the guy on strike? If he wanted more pay, he could come for a discussion, although I have been paying him better than his colleagues were getting per cut. I could even offer height allowance if he asked for it.
I was quite uncomfortable with the over-growing hair which everyone was reminding me of, so I undertook a search for the missing barber. The possibility was that other barbers would know his house and direct me accordingly. So from barber shop to barber shop I went asking if they had seen the shortest barber in town. No one seemed to know him.
I decided I couldn’t go another week without a cut, so I reluctantly went into the last shop and asked the barber there to do the job. He studied my head, nodded and asked me to sit on a stool outside and wait. He was finishing another person’s hair and then he’d jump on mine.
Soon, he called me in, and I told him I dislike nonsense.
He was stunned. “Massa, have I offended you?” he enquired worriedly. I said no. Then what was the matter? He begged me to explain.
“I don’t like the kind of haircut that would scare my boss,” I said. He laughed. I continued, “I don’t want my boss to see me and start running away; he should give me promotion.” The barber laughed and promised me a fashionable cut.
“I don’t want a fashionable cut. I want it simple according to the shape of my head.”
“Don’t you like Jojo Special? Your girlfriend will dig you. She’ll believe!”
“Just do as I say.”
I was pretty sure the guy was going to mess me up like I had done to some two or three. The Law of Karma. In Legon I told my room-mate, Akotey Anaara, that I was the best barber the breadth of the country. He brought his head platter and I gave him a wonderful design.
The next morning when he went for lectures, everyone including the lecturer asked him whether he was sick. Actually, the cut I gave him made him look like one of those dull-looking mental patients who often escape from the Psychiatric Hospital and were seen directing traffic or getting into some.
Akortey Anaara had to find another guy to shave the damn hair off his skull and it was even worse. He looked like an obrafor (human head-cutter). His girlfriend didn’t recognise him.
Well, when the barber was cutting my hair, I realised that many people were lining up to have theirs cut today too. When I asked him why his customers were so many today, he said they were preparing for Easter and needed ‘wild’ hairdos to impress the girls in the village. It was then that I knew preparations for the Easter were well underway.
In fact, when Easter is approaching and it is amusing to see the seriousness people attach to the celebration, especially when they are travelling from the city to the villages and cottages. The idea is that you must impress rural girls.
Actually some people start saving for well over six months so that preparations for the occasions are not beset with financial bad-weather, monetary El-Nino or back pocket load-shedding.
For the young man, preparations border on having a stylish haircut, a second-hand but colourful camboo, jeans, third-hand pairs of socks, bottle of Kasapreko Gin, singlet, fashionable shirts and some trousers and shorts. The idea is to go and show to the folks that he is not a hopeless person in the city, but a prospering gentleman who must, therefore, be admired and loved by the girls.
Some money is set aside for ‘show,’ that is buying drinks for friends and for inducing young girls for seduction on Easter Sunday under the cover of darkness. Whatever monies that remain is just enough for transportation back to the city. Such monies are never touched because if you do, you’ll remain in the village or be forced to walk back to the city.
It is the preparation made by the women-folk that is even more interesting. The kaba and slit must be of ultra-modern and custom design so that the wearer can look like a vulture which is about to take off. Then the hairdo, the lip-sticks, the full-shoes, whatever. If the typical celebrant is not careful, she would finally look like a crow.
She would be seen in various colours on Easter Sunday during church service, and it is always a sight like to remember.
Some of the areas where Easter is best celebrated are Peki, Kwahu (Okwahu United, Obo Kwahu and all), Tapa Abotoase, some parts of Ashanti and Brong and some cottages in Central, Eastern and Western Regions. You’ll be surprise they never forget the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
With every Easter though, it is the Palm Sunday which matters to some people. The triumphant entry into Jerusalem is of more significance to them than his death and resurrection, because of the ‘palm element.’
Palm Sunday must indeed be marked with the copious drinking of palmwine and if necessary, the eating of fufu and palmnut soup, a ritual they claim is endorsed by the Holy Spirit.
This article was first published on Saturday, April 9, 1999
Politics7 months ago
