Barber Shop

December 23, 2007

Today is Sunday and is usually the first day of the work week. But since we have the next 2 days off for Xmas all we did was health and welfare checks and then everyone did vehicle maintenance. I haven’t been assigned my own vehicle yet so I just jumped in and helped Ed wash his rig. We all, (about 9 vehicles), had to share one little hose. There was no soap, no brushes, and the hose was a little skinny thing about the diameter of an extension cord. Everyone ended up using the brushes on their ice scrapers and their hands to rub all the dirt off. It took a while, but we were done by noon.

After lunch I made my first venture to the FOB’s barber shop. Like the other shops, (Haji-Shops), the barber is run by 2 Iraq’s. Usually there is a line of soldiers 3 or 4 deep waiting to get their hair cut. But since the chow hall was still running I was able to get right in with no waiting. I’ve heard a few stories about the barber from other guys that haven’t been too positive. So I’ve been a bit leery to have my hair cut there, especially since hearing the stories about Haji using a straight razor to shave your face or around the neck, etc. Some guys say they will never let an Iraq near their face with a razor. But I figured if I’m going to be here and work side by side with these people as they try to rebuild their country, I had better start building a little trust in them. So I went in and had a seat. The kid cutting my hair was a bit shorter than me, so after he wrapped the cape around me he asked me in broken English to scoot down so he could reach the top of my head. I guess a barber chair with a pneumatic petal to raise and lower the customer is a luxury they can’t afford. So I scooted down in the chair and thought to myself, “I’m scooting down for this guy to get a good angle on my Adams apple so he can slice the damn thing open!” So I had to tell him in my own kindergarten English, “#2 on the sides,” using the best hand singles I could to help make my point. He smiled and said, “#2 on the sides, and fade on the top?” I did my best to hide my chagrin and just gave him the thumbs up. That was lesson #1…they aren’t dumb. He proceeded to buzz the sides quickly, fade the top even quicker, and all the while hold a conversation with me about his Ead holiday and how he took his girlfriend to a nice dinner and to ice cream and to the lake for a walk and then to some friends for drinks afterward. He even used the word, “Awesome” several times. It took him about 60 seconds to lull me into feeling like I was sitting in my barber chair back home. He even trimmed my beard without missing a beat! That was lesson #2…a barber is usually a barber no matter what country you are in. But when he was done with that he reached into a cup and pulled out his straight razor and set my mind to worrying again. He chatted loud mish-mash with the other barber, (there are 2 chairs in the small shop), while he quickly changed the blades and disinfected his tool. I never took my eyes off his damn hands, and I kept my own fists at my sides ready to pounce out of the chair as soon as he undoubtedly would raise that knife to my neck, scream Allah’s name, and start to chopping my head off! But my delusion passed quickly as he expertly shaved my side-burns and the back of my neck, smiled, and had me unwrapped and ready to go. I stood up and looked in the mirror at the fine cut, and then I felt that the back of my neck was as smooth as a baby’s butt, and most importantly that there wasn’t a gapping hole in my neck where my Adams apple used to be. The cut only cost $4, but I gladly paid the young lad $10, as this was the finest haircut I’ve had in quite some time. He beamed and thanked me, and then I left my new barber with not only my head still intact, but my faith in humanity renewed as well. That was lesson #3.

-Jim Franks