Barbers of Bamako

Haircuts in Mali are always a bit sketchy. Take Jake for example; when he decided to finally tame his unruly hair and find a barber, he ended up getting it cut by a confused butcher for 200 CFA (40 cents). The final result of course reflected that price, a mix between someone from the band, The Monkeys, and a four year-old with scissors.

Yesterday between dance class and lunch, I decided to finally trim my already short hair hair with Erica’s electric clippers. Because the voltage is different between the United States and Mali, we have to use a converter that in theory works, but often causes electronic devices to overheat. So it’s always a mad dash to finish the haircut before the clippers get too hot to handle. I was nearly done when I heard a quick “pop” and smelled burning plastic. The clippers had short-circuited themselves and smoke was now seeping out of the handle. I, of course, was left looking like I had mange.

Much to the amusement of everyone in the house, we couldn’t find a pair of scissors to finish the job. Not wanting to wear a hat for the rest of the semester or face the prospects of getting it fixed by a butcher-turned-barber, I was determined to find some other cutting utensil. Jazz came to the rescue when she discovered a flimsy razor blade and Em sat me down with her patient fingers to bring everything down to the same length (1/8 inch). As I sat there in our balcony hallway, feeling my scalp get scratched, I couldn’t help but realize this as just another one of those surreal moment of life in Africa. The haircut looks great, considering the limited tools, though if I stand in just the right light, you can still see the slightly different shades from where the clippers stopped working.