Nongqai Vol 17 No 9 – (18) Humour in Uniform: The Barbershop

MY MONTHLY HAPPY MOMENT

Life is a song. Personally, I don’t know the words, the tune, or the artist, but I keep humming along anyway.

Now and then, though, you hit a truly lekker moment.

At my age, sitting in the garden all day is a full-time occupation. I like to watch the world go by. I don’t focus on just anyone, mind you—I keep my eyes on the ladies over 80. They’re exactly my fighting size. The trouble these days is that my imagination isn’t what it used to be, but hey, that’s life.

My absolute highlight is my monthly trip to the barber. It’s a quick appointment because there isn’t much left to work with. What’s left of my hair is fragile, grey, and clinging on for dear life.

Then comes the moment of truth. The barber smiles and announces it’s time for the waxing. (Just to clarify, we are not talking about my bikini line—I had that sorted three weeks ago.)

It makes you realise Our creator has a sense of humour. As you get older, the hair completely deserts your skull, migrates downstairs, and decides to plant a dense, thriving forest inside your nose and ears.

The waxing itself is a form of legalised torture but thank goodness it’s only once a month. Besides, it costs money—money that is currently competing with my beer fund. And let me tell you, my beer costs a lot!

The process: The barber jams wax-covered earbuds up my nose and into my ears. Then, the pull. I don’t scream, of course. I am a man of the old school; I can endure pain. But the psychological damage intensifies when he shows me the aftermath. There is nothing quite like looking at a pair of earbuds that now look exactly like traumatised porcupines.

Scientists, usually friends at our gathering places, drinking milkshakes at say nose hair prevents dust from entering your system. That doesn’t worry me. I already have an entire desert’s worth of solid dust and soil rolling around inside my head. In fact, when my wife finally goes quiet, I can actually hear the dunes shifting in there.

There is a distinct medical benefit to having overgrown ear hair, though: it blocks out the sound of the human sleeping next to you. I call her a “human being” because these days, gender boundaries are so confusing you only find out the truth once a month anyway.

Ta-ta,

Uncle Anton Wiid

(He is a former SA Police officer)