7 April 2013

Hafiz Adewuyi

Good Sunday, Bad Sunday

It's almost bedtime and I'm feeling lifted and happy. Today was not such a bad day, even though it's not exactly what you'd call eventful either. I went to church and I had a wonderful time, serving at the children's church. Now, I wonder if I'd have felt as fulfilled if instead, I had been in the main service. Well, I got back home late in the afternoon and as soon as my clothes were off, I found myself in the kitchen. I was so glad that I'd prepared lunch in the morning, so all I had to do was warm the food. Sadly, there was no light; things would have been even faster with the microwave. Till now, the memory of the awesomeness of my lunch still lingers. What's better than a plate of rice and dodo, with a can of super-chilled Malta Guinness on a hot SUNday afternoon?

After lunch, I dived into the regular Sunday post-church nap which took about an hour. The rest of the day since after lunch went by fast as it was filled with  my favorite activities: chatting, reading self-help articles and scrabbling online and cooking. Yes, I decided to cook beans this night, after a long while. The devil tried to discourage me twice though:
1. when I found out I had to pick the beans I was going to cook;
2. when the blender coil got fried as I was trying to blend the pepper+onion for the beans.
I was determined as usual; the result: an awesome pot of beans which I can eat from about two to three more times. Akofa said to me at church today, "You're so determined". I would remember that.

A pretty fulfilling day, I must say, even though I still have a lot of things to do that I've been postponing e.g. writing, getting back to my CBA et al.

I resolved today to be more positive in my thinking and outlook. The articles I read today made me realize how negative I have been for the most of my sensible life. I tend to anticipate the worst every time; to think that I would not be able to achieve my goals due to my incompetence. I'll try to practice the recommended exercises and actively monitor my 'self-talk' to minimize the amount of time wasted discouraging myself.

Anyway, I'm grateful I had a great day. Currently, I feel the opposite of the way I felt exactly one week ago. The only way to combat my bad mood that night was to pour my heart out to the paper. I hereby present you, the paper that lent its ears:


"I'm a little depressed tonight, and it turns out that fundamentally, I'm the one to blame for it. After seven months of undisturbed hair growing, I decided to go give my big fro a little shave. I thought it had started to get rough too quickly and become a little too hard to comb. "Little trims here and there could only improve things", I thought. How wrong I was?

On arriving at the barber's shop, I met a customer in the seat. He was keeping a fro too, and he probably came in with similar intentions to mine. His hair cut had just been completed; he inspected himself in the mirror as he made to leave. Personally, I was taken a bit aback because the haircut was not attractive. I blamed it on his head shape and assured myself there was no way mine could turn out similar to his.

Soon, I was in the barber's rolling chair, ready for a looks upgrade. I told him I simply wanted to smooth out the hair surface and 'shape' the edges. The first step was to comb the hair out evenly. It took about five minutes to do that because of this guy who claimed to know how to do it properly, but turned out was just interested in playing with my hair. The haircut proper started and it was looking good at first. Until gradually, gradually, layer after layer, my hair was reduced to half its former fullness. At this point, I knew there was nothing I could do but watch.

Some ten minutes later, the barber started packing the clipper. I looked in the mirror and could not believe this guy actually meant the session was over. With an iota of hope, I picked up my comb and combed out the hair, expecting this would improve the look. What I saw in the mirror reminded me of the man who I met in the seat on my arrival. "Why did I not listen to my gut instinct", I scolded myself. My hair, which had been full and round, now looked like a box. It was flat on all sides that were visible to me; had lost all semblance to its former self. After confirming my disgust with the cut, I informed him of my dissatisfaction  I felt like telling him to take it all of. However, we agreed on him making it at least, look round again. He did some more shaving, lowering the hair even more. I felt ripped off, like an asset had been stolen from me.

When he was done with his fiddling, I did not even dare comb the hair out again. I knew it would probably be like before, so I just told him it was better and handed him his cash. He had spent some good time on the hair at least, however wasted it was, he deserved some appreciation. To think that it was the fear of this kind of occurrence that had kept me away from the barber for so long.

On the bright side, I still have about half the amount of hair in my original fro. If mathematics applies, it would take another three to four months to reach where the hair was today again. I hope that in its growing process, the hair regains its roundness again because I totally hate its current shape.

I think the major problem with this barber was the communication gap between us. The only way I could wholly describe what I wanted in the haircut was in fluent English. However, I had to tone it down a bit to a level he could comprehend. Unfortunately, a lot of vital information was lot in this process.

For one, I'll never return to that shop ever again. In the future, I'll be wiser and do one of the following:
1. Carefully use my network to get a barber who knows how to maintain a black fro;
2. Avoid the barber's shop altogether and let nature take its uninterrupted toll on my hair.

I guess it showed on my face that I was highly displeased with the cut, because he apologized as I made to leave. "Sorry for yourself", I retorted in my mind. I wish I was a little more impulsive, but my self-control is to a fault. I simply nodded and walked off. To make matters worse, the idiot left the foam packing of my clipper out while he was packing it. Another reason for me to see his sorry face again :-(. I just hope that would be the last time.

Adios. "

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21 April 2020 at 08:04 delete

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