Barbershop Cultural Exchange Part II

So thanks to fellow PCV Mike who recently did an excellent job directing the Oz Spring Camp, I have discovered one of the few upsides to being a male volunteer in Morocco.... the barbershop shave! I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out? Probably because it such an unlikely luxury in the US. But here in Morocco, you can walk into a barbershop and get a nice relaxing straight-razor shave for just 5 dirhams! That’s less than a dollar! Plus its a great chance to hang out with the locals and practice your language. I treated myself to my first barbershop facial shave yesterday after finally returning from a long tiring week of Spring Camp. Of course, I went to the same barbershop I usually go to (there’s only one in town), which luckily, I really like. When I got there, I was pleased to see the younger barber from my last time there with the rap music. He was just finishing up with another customer, so I jumped into the chair as soon as it was free, and he strapped on the bib. He started to grab for the scissors and I said. “Ghir tamaert assad” (just the beard today). He seemed happy with that. First, he trimmed it with the machine, while we watched some news regarding a footrace through the Sahara dessert. When he was done with the machine, R&B artist “Usher” was being shown singing at a concert. Then a “Kid Rock” song came on, which I translated for him. I asked him if he liked the music and he said “I’ll show you what I really like. The other men around here don’t get it.” And with that, he switched the station to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller the Movie”. Visions of childhood Halloween flooded in. Meanwhile, Mohamed the barber grabbed the straight-razor and got to work. Watching the man in the mirror dance with the living dead, I said, “Have you heard the gossip about Michael? They say he might have been Muslim”(partially because I just learned the TashlHite word for “gossip“ and wanted to use it). This is kind of a big deal around the water-coolers in Morocco right now. He had heard of it, but neither of us were convinced it was true. When he was done, he slapped some aftershave on my newly smooth cheeks and offered me the sink to rinse my face. “Good talk Mohamed”, I said, “Until next week”. Classic pop music and a shave: my new favorite weekly habit!