Before I get back to birds there is something that I want to mention that is probably not worth your time but this is my blog and as long as I continue to be demoralized about more important topics I will most likely be writing about stuff like this.

Despite 17 years of male pattern baldness I still enjoy getting a haircut. They say non-sexual touching, like grooming, releases oxytocin. Maybe that’s why.

As much as I enjoy getting a haircut, and by haircut I mean electric clippers on number 1, I often regret it immediately afterwards, sometimes during. This is because most barbers in these parts seem to be under the impression that the client is not satisfied unless they take off a full layer of the epidermis along with the hair.

In addition to the genes for male pattern baldness, I was blessed with a pale complexion and extremely sensitive skin, so after being manhandled in the barbershop I typically need to empty out half a tube of cortisone on my inflamed head to avoid looking like a radiation victim.

Of course, in Bamako I had Boubacar, who from October 2010 cut my hair in a shipping container before governor Amy Kane razed the half the city ahead of the France-Afrique summit in January 2017. After that, Boubacar came to our house and buzzed my head in the courtyard. Boubacar had a delicate touch with the clippers and always insightful commentary on the state of things in Mali.

Here in Senegal, I was flying blind. You can imagine my delight when I went to what appears to be the only the barbershop in Somone and had a gentle and hypnotic haircut that was practically a head massage.

When I went back for my second cut (bald guys should get their residual hair cut often if they want to remain accepted members of society) I was momentarily taken aback. The barber looked the same but about 15 kilos heavier. I tried to hide my surprise. C’est Ibrahim n’est-ce pas? Oui.

I do have some issues with cognitive impairment and facial recognition so I just rolled with it. But then the haircut was completely different. If it was Ibrahim, not only was he heavier, he was also suddenly abusive with the clippers. I actually had to tell him to faire doucement twice. It didn’t make a difference. Disappointed and confused, I went home to empty half a tube of cortisone onto my head.

Before I went for my 3rd cut, I hesitated. I thought maybe I should just go to Ngaparou, the next town over, and start fresh with a new barber. But then I thought, maybe it was a fluke. I will just be straight with him and tell him that the first cut was much better than the second. I am a weird toubab and I have sensitive skin etc. He’ll understand.

When I went to the barbershop, I found two barbers: Ibrahim, who buzzed my head the first time, and his brother, who buzzed my head the second time. His brother looks just like him, except 15 kilos heavier. Right. I still don’t know why he answered in the affirmative when I asked him if he was Ibrahim. Maybe he thought I was asking whether it was Ibrahim’s shop? It is. Maybe my French accent is terrible? It is.

There was one guy in front of me when I sat down to wait my turn. I tried to figure out which brother was going to finish with their client first. Too hard to say. Ibrahim began pulling ahead but was mercifully delayed by a phone call. I quietly rejoiced when Mohamed, Ibrahim’s brother, finished first. What a relief. Ibrahim would be cutting my hair.

Wouldn’t you know it, Mohamed finished with his second client before Ibrahim had finished with his first. Of course he did. If you asked Mohamed to trim some hedges he would probably just excavate the shrub as quickly as possible and be done with it.

Mohamed was all smiles when it was my turn. He is genuinely friendly, which makes it all the more difficult to tell him his haircut is shit. I told him regardless. In a nice way. He nodded his head, j’ai compris, j’ai compris, and went to work butchering my head. Mid-way through the haircut I gave him a reminder. Ibrahim even intervened and laid it down for him in Wolof.

Anyway, I went back home afterwards and emptied half a tube of cortisone onto my head.

I am open to suggestions on how to proceed.