I have not had my haircut since we arrived back island side. Not really a huge issue since I cover my hair every day but it was overdue. Like my split ends had split ends. Yeah, bad. Problem is I do not yet know where I can get a haircut here where the people 1. know how to cut Wazungu hair (which let’s face it is very different that Waswahili hair) or 2. not pay a crazy amount at a hotel or some tourist spot. But recently I met a friend of a friend that has recently moved here with her husband to do a short term farming project and she knows how to cut hair. Only issue was she is Korean and does not speak a lick of English or Kiswahili and since I can barely handle 2 languages at the moment my Korean is nadda:) So our mutual friend came along to translate. Only she does not speak English either. So today outside my house on a little stool I sat for my hair cut while I requested what I wanted in Kiswahili and Mama Kim translated from Kiswahili to Korean to her friend. All amidst our hanging laundry and an audience (of course since getting Wazungu hair cut is interesting y’all). A guest then arrived to chat with Jason which only served to make the whole thing more ridiculous (if that is possible?). I definitely had a few giggles thinking “only here.”
fam, browns, hair cut 020.jpgedit
blury b/c Miss Evy was grabbing the camera but Anni decided she wanted in on the action and got a quick bang trim too!
fam, browns, hair cut 024.jpgedit
only here…..

  1. Anonymous says:

    Next time you can come to our house – at least I have a original hair-cutting scissors and some experience with wazungu hair, too.

  2. Anonymous says:

    Looks like you had a lot cut off, but looks cute. Hilarious story of languages. It's like sending your head in to be done and not going with it.

  3. Anonymous says:

    AWESOME! Sounds like an I Love Lucy Episode. Do you think she would make an appointment for me?

  4. Anonymous says:

    oh funny.. i want to see the end product! šŸ™‚

  5. Anonymous says:

    Awe-some! Reminds me of when I first moved to chicago, had no car, no internet at home to do research, and zero sense of direction. I needed a haircut. so I wandered into Ukranian Village and walked up to a hair salon where no one spoke any English, pointed to a picture in a magazine, and used my fingers to indicate how much to cut. I got a pretty decent haircut, I must say, and felt like a rockstar for being so brave šŸ™‚

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