<--patrons and other employees crowd around to watch my hair being cutWhile in Djenne, a little village in the middle of Mali, I decided to have my hair cut again in preparation for traveling to the desert and Timbuktu. It was already quite hot and sweaty in Djenne and I knew it would only become more so as we ventured north. So with Ron, Mark, Joanna, Ajeeth and Ibrahim as my witnesses, I had my hair cut in a tiny little barber shop. This caused quite a funny scene. Not only did the other patrons and employees stop to watch/gawk, but people walking by on the street popped in to see what was going on. It was such a kick.
Ibrahim was my translator since I don't speak great French (he was our guide). Mark also tried to chip in as well since he speaks decent French. Between the group of us, we mostly communicated the look I was going for: basically another boy-ish cut.
The man who cut my hair was sooo freaking adorable. He was beaming the whole time and was so incredibly gentle with every snip and every time he touched my head. Every little cut he made was measured and slow and then he would take his little sponge and tenderly brush the loose hairs away. It was as if he was cutting the hair of a newborn baby.
Ibrahim told me, "he's very happy because he's never cut toubab hair before" (Toubab is the word for "white man" here). And indeed, the little man just looked so thrilled the entire time. I still can't get over how he treated me like the most fragile princess in the world.
The on-lookers were grinning broadly too. While at first, they just seemed fascinated and intrigued, their blank stares soon turned to curious smiles and chuckles; it was something of an event to see a toubab in their barber shop. It certainly provided some great evening entertainment and is absolutely the most memorable haircut I've ever had.
