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I was gonna blog about my barber  but Ian (http://mydeardoris.wordpress.com/2012/04/03/kinyozi-ya-stima/) beat me to the punch, and might I add, did quite a hell of a job! So I might as well cut to the chase!

It’s weird the rituals that go on in barber shops nowadays. A few weeks ago I walked into a barber shop in town to do a bit of inquiries in comparison to my ‘roko’ (local) Kinyozi (barber shop). I have mixed feelings about this excursion because I fear that I must have walked into a private session. This is due to the fact that I found two guy sitted shirtless on those executive barbershop seats (That can also be described as being half-naked right?)

One was being slapped and punched rhythmically across the shoulders by some lady who made a face to suggest that she was deeply engrossed in what she was doing.
The other guy laid his ‘number zero’ shaven head back as the other female attendant performed what appeared to be cajoling his brain from the back of his head using a contraption that looked like one of those egg beating thingamajigs. It looked something like this, but without the wires intertwining at the end there.

I looked closely to see whether this back and forth motion was bothering him in any way. And that is when my eyes met his eyes in the mirror conventionally fixed in front of the seat. To say that I was deeply perturbed by what I saw is a major understatement.
No man should ever be subjected to what I saw in that mirror. An immensely euphoric l expression, not to mention the whites of his half-opened eyes. His mouth slightly agape in what I believe was pleasure. Yes. He was in the zone. To avoid any further eye contact with him, I shifted my focus to another position in the mirror. Wanna guess where my focus landed? Yup, you guessed right;directly in line with the other ‘victims’ eyes. The one who was being smacked and punched across his neck and shoulders. That one.

Let me just tell you now that the expression on his face was no less disturbing for me. Good for him, but no good for another man to witness.
I was embarrassed so I quickly looked away.
The last thing I remember telling the receptionist (whom I had come to inquire from) is that I had very recently developed an interest in growing dreadlocks, and would therefore not require to sit in those barbershop seats any time soon. And with that, I sped off, never to return!
I asked around and it turns out that both those clients were being given a post shave massage, hence the expressions. Don’t they have private rooms for that kind of thing??

How interesting  is your barbershop on a scale of 1-to-crazy?

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