I promised both Lij Fire and Charity i would get my hair (or what i have left of it) dreaded in Shashemane. They both attempt to convince me i am a Rasta. Vietnamese Buddhist monk and Genuine Friend from The Ganj tells me i am a Buddhist. Ma and Pa tell me i am Jewish, whether i accept Judaism. I dismiss and accept all three
I have been a short, back and sides person since i had my hair braided in Thailand in 1991. My infamous Boss – “lovingly” named Whatacuntski by many of the teachers that had the misfortune to work under him - was completely furious and formerly threatened me with a letter of dismissal for my “unprofessionalism”. Ironically, i had more professionalism in my left wrist. It was a shame to lose them because the kids completely loved it (many of which returned from a three day vacation to Thailand also braided) and some of the parents did too! My hair has always been messy when long – in terms of aesthetics, it was clearly a huge improvement.
Just over one year ago i left my spiritual home of McLeod Ganj. After a memorable all-night session with Ying celebrating the Winter Equinox,i fell asleep in the Barber’s chair and woke up to find my hair entirely shaved off. Horror of horrors for sure – something of a holocaust survivor about it.
I did get it cut one more time subsequently, just before departing for Haiti in March this year, but i have let it grow long again – to the point of being a dead-ringer for Krusty the Clown or The Mad Professor.
My Shashemane “guide” takes me to Mimi, a local Muslim girl. She is a local stylist. I wanted beads, but no-one can get hold of them and spends some fifty minutes tying and knotting it, somewhat painfully and not entirely unstimulating. I find myself closing my eyes and lying on top of her leg. I apologise profusely – i don’t know how Muslim Mimi is, but she just laughs and says “no problem”. She then invites me to take her to Addis tomorrow for she has never been. I politely refuse and pay her Birr60 for her efforts.
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