Getting a Haircut

 If I’m in the States and getting a little shaggy, I usually drop by a low-cost barbershop/salon like SuperCuts and get a haircut. No need to make a reservation, I’ll just wait for my turn to have whatever available salon attendant call my name and then sit in a chair for about 10 minutes while he or she trims my hair with scissors, a comb and clippers, maybe making some forced small talk about weather, what I do, etc. It’s a mostly perfunctory activity – basic maintenance to look like a somewhat respectable adult – involving little planning and not something I particularly relish. Here – by the shore, in my coastal Afro-Colombian site – however, I enjoy getting my haircut and actually plan ahead for it (well, as much as one can plan ahead for anything here). And by planning ahead, I mean calling my buddy Yesid to see when he’s not working on a boat, fishing or accompanying his wife on errands in the city and when we can get our schedules to match up for a haircut.

Key ingredients for my haircuts: Two razor blades, my trusty American comb, and a plastic chair.

The scheduled day and time arriving, I’ll grab my comb and swing by a little store to purchase two disposable razor blades (300 pesos each, about 15 cents) before meeting up with Yesid at his house or that of a family member and plopping down shirtless into an empty plastic chair. Placing a razor blade on top of the comb, Yesid will scrape it back and forth through my hair, gradually trimming to a uniform length. After the main work is done, and the razor blade dulled from slicing hair, Yesid will fold it until it snaps in half, then once again, placing the metal discard on a nearby windowsill or tree branch until we’re done for me to throw away (per my request, rather than just throwing it into nearby brush as is the common approach in town). A fresh blade slipped from its paper wrapper, he then goes tends to finishing the edges, trimming my sideburns in the local style.

Working on the top

Making our way up the left side of my head

Client and expert island barber

Not only are razor blades effective at trimming down cutting men’s hair, they are also incredibly wieldy for carving out intricate designs according to customer preference. The month of November, chock full of local festivities, includes a heavy emphasis on really neat hair styles. Last November, Yesid himself had an iguana shaped out of his hair, its two eyes slightly protruding on the crown of his head and a tail coiled around one side of his head. Were my hair the same tight, curly consistency, I would have begged to have him give me that style, even at the risk of having my school principal a little perturbed by pushing the envelope on the school’s dress code.

Getting it done

Whereas I find American haircut small talk excruciatingly uncomfortable, I enjoy the conversation with Yesid. He pleasantly peppers me with questions about the US and regales me with humorous anecdotes of recent events in town. Usually there are a few other young guys hanging around which most likely means them (unsolicited) gregariously teaching me new slang words for male and female genitalia or making fun of each other or me (although I am usually unaware when I am the butt of a joke, the local street vocabulary endlessly replete with words I have never heard before or recognizable words used in a completely different sense). With a razor blade so close to my scalp or face, I’ve never been cut, even though I spend a good chunk of each haircut laughing.

Trimming the edges with the razor

When all is said and done, I try to slip Yesid a $5,000 peso bill for his work, an action that is often rejected. “Don’t worry about it” he says stepping back so I can’t stuff the money into his pocket, already knowing that he won’t accept it directly.Whereas this part of Colombian can easily seem like a place where everyone tries to charge the gringo more, I find it difficult to pay for this service and not out of lack of trying on my end. Last year Yesid studied in a community English class I taught at night so we had an implicit understanding: Since I didn’t charge anything for the class (spending my own money on photocopies and markers), he never charged to cut my hair.No longer in the class this year, he still insists on not charging me for the class or only when he needs it. (“I’m good this week; don’t give me anything. Pay me twice next time instead, otherwise I’ll just spend the money on something unnecessary” he has said to me on several occasions. “But that’s what you told me last time!” I usually protest.)  At least once he would only accept 1,000 pesos for the purpose of buying his infant daughter a fresh diaper. I think the exchange of money just makes him uncomfortable, especially between friends. I would guess that most of the haircuts he gives for free or for whatever loose change the customer has in his pockets at the moment, most of them being friends that lack stable incomes.

Funky island cut: The Nautica logo carved into the back of a teenage guy's head

Funky island cut: I told my friend Julio that with this cut he looked like a watermelon

I get my hair cut about once every other week or every three weeks. It is not uncommon for the men in my town to get their hair cut every week, thereby always looking good for the ladies and ready for any local festivities.

My neighbor Carlitos getting a trim

Let's Play!!!

 

A culè defender hard at work

 More than half of the 1,800 or so residents of my town are youth or children, so there is almost always someone playing some kind of game. Traditional sports are often in action for kids, teenagers and adults. Soccer, of course, is huge (this being Latin America, after all) with several fields of various size and condition in use during long stretches of the day. Soccer is played – usually barefoot, except for the odd gringo that doesn’t feel like stepping on a sharp rock or shard of glass – in the concrete micro-cancha (“mini field”) and in at least three large dirt patches in the hot sun and in the pouring rain, the sand and gravel turning into thick mud and in the street. Baseball also happens in one of the fields, known as the “softball field” for where town men occasionally play softball on Sunday afternoons in beer-soaked matches with other Afro-Colombian community teams. Some of my neighborhood students even got hold of real tennis rackets and a few balls and convert the sandlot next to my house into a dirt tennis court for a few hours each day, placing a long stick on two logs for a makeshift net structure (minus the actual net) and scratching boundaries in the hard sand. (Tennis is currently on pause this week as the last ball got destroyed between zealous smacks and being left in the rain.)

 

Makeshift tennis court

Playing some island tennis

Board games and the like are also often underway. Dominos can be found being slapped down on many tables through town by kids, teens and adults, replete with smack-talking regardless of age (usually much less of it happening at tables with females than at male-dominated tables). The basic version is how it is played – four players with seven dominos each, the goal being to match number ends until one player successful disposes of all his dominos and wins. Betting often occurs with adult males playing for 5,000 pesos per hand (about US$2.50) with players rotating in and out depending on who wins and who loses. Losing players – as identified either by number of dominos remaining in their hand at the end of the round or, in cases of equal number of dominos in the hands of multiple players, the higher tallied number of dots on their dominoes – not only lose the money they bet but also have to buy a round of beer for the other players. Highly skilled gents who have a lucky day at the table can drink all day long without paying for their beer and also making some extra spending money (which will mostly be spent buying beer when they wind up having an unlucky day at the domino table or continue drinking after play ceases and the dominos are put away). And though kids don’t always gamble, it is not uncommon to see them play for coins and earn or lose some of their snack money while adult women idle away their time playing a dice board game for change.

Playing some bones (though they just call it Dòmino)

Dominoes

A betting game during the week of the town festivities - place a coin on a number (or on the line connecting numbers) and win or lose depending on the roll of a die

Placing some bets, winning and losing snack money

Marbles come and go throughout the year, with the intensity of a fever. Play is for keeps and these kids have no mercy, having personally made several trips from a game to a nearby corner store to buy marbles for about 50 pesos each as I kept losing, the winners “killing” my marbles and adding them to their soda bottles full of marbles won through fierce play.

A homemade mini-billiard table

Some of my neighbors having a fun time

A group of teenagers entertaining themselves training their fighting cocks

Where I’m most impressed is when kids make up their own games or have traditional games that require little or no materials. One of my students taught me a game that involves throwing two coins against a wall with the aim of the coins landing on the ground separated by a distance commensurate to that between their thumb and pinky when the hand is fully spread. The player who gets closest to having their coins land that distance wins the round. Any two kids can play it together as long as they have two coins and a decent wall to use.

My student Brayan throwing a couple of coins against the wall

Two coins on the floor about a handful apart - a pretty good throw.

Another game – “palitos,” or little sticks – is a kind of a low-tech Operation, played with just a handful of popsicle sticks (anywhere from 10 to 20 of them). To start the sticks are gently tossed in the air an inch or two to land on the table or school desk underneath.  The player then chooses one loose popsicle stick and uses it to slowly and carefully move another popsicle stick without shifting any others, repeating the process until they accidentally move an unintended popsicle stick (like getting shocked in Operation). Adding up the number of sticks successfully moved, the next player throws the sticks to start his or her turn with the aim of surpassing the highest number achieved. Purchase a small bag of popsicle sticks and you can easily be on your way, either competing against a friend or practicing solo.

Playing palitos as school before class starts

Trying to get the sticks free without disturbing the others

One stick removed!

Making progress in a round of palitos

The current town favorite is a game called Culé (sounding like “cool LAY”), played with nothing other than a plastic cup of juice, a small chair to set the cup on, and a ball anywhere between the size of a small soccer ball or a full-sized soccer ball. Said ball can be either completely flat or fully inflated – it simply doesn’t matter as the ball is not intended to bounce. I have seen the game played with anywhere from 6 players to around 15 players. Divided into two teams, one team is on offense and one team on defense (my own terms). Defense guards the cup of juice with the ball while the offense tries to grab the cup and drink all of the juice before getting hit with the ball as thrown by a defending player. If an offense player is hit with the ball (usually from an accurate strike or getting tagged in “Monkey in the middle”-like  coordination between two or more defenders) he or she is “burned” (quemado) and out of play. Play continues – even if the juice is gradually  decreasing by sipping offensive players –until either all of the offensive players are “burned” or the cup is completely emptied and the successful offensive player finishes the last drop without getting “burned” and yells “Culé.” With each round the two teams alternate between offense and defense with neither team concerned about keeping track of the score. It’s an exciting game to watch and it’s really great to see a bunch of kids having a ton of fun playing a game that requires no investment other than a packet of Frutiño or SunTea (a  mere 500 pesos and 800 pesos, respectively) to make a pitcher of juice.

A cup of juice on a chair before a game of culè

Attacking and defending!!!

The classic "monkey in the middle" defense approach in action as an offendsive player takes off

Going for the cup while the defense recovers the ball!!!

 

Time to drink some juice and switch sides

Water Run!

9:30 a.m. on a Friday. My host mom asks, "Mike, would you like to go to El Bosque?"

Sleepy, I demur momentarily and then commit. "Yes!" I respond. "When are they leaving?"

"In a minute or two," she informs me.

"I'll be ready" I say, quickly swallowing half a mug of coffee before running into my room to grab my wallet, iPod to take photos (my camera being on temporary loan to a community member who wanted to document a project in town), and my Peace Corps-issued life vest.

After having worked for most of the school vacation on activities for the youth and children Afro-Colombian drumming and dance groups I started with a local counterpart, I had planned to finally spend a day relaxing and reading before the start of the second half of the school year. But I didn't want to miss a trip to El Bosque to go on a water run and see where the water comes from that my community and I use to drink, bathe, and wash.

In addition to selling beer, snacks, and school supplies from the house where he and his wife, Adela, live my host mom's dad, Chicho, earns a living bringing potable water to town and selling it. He and his son, Edinson, (my host mom's brother) make the trip in to El Bosque once or twice a week to fill a chalupa full of water tanks to bring back to the island. With most of their trips happening before 7 am or on days when I have school or other project obligations, I usually am unable to join them. Leaving later than usual and on a day I was free, I jumped at the chance to join Chicho in his water run.

From my passenger seat, looking out over the bow of the chalupa, empty water barrels in front of me.

Port machinery on the mainland in the distance

High rise condos in wealthy section of the city off in the distance.

Gigantic chalupas as we get closer to our destination. Chalupas like these are occasionally used for trips to and from Panama.

Sail boats

Pulling into El Bosque, we had to wait about forty minutes for our turn to fill up - already at dock was a flat boat that is basically a transportable water tank. Water is pumped into the body and then the ship heads away from the mainland to deliver water to to a larger town on my island or further out toward the ocean to an archipelago as neither places, like my community, have potable water sources and therefore require water to be shipped in.

 

 

 

Water tank boat.

 After the water tank boat filled and began its journey our of El Bosque, Chicho pulled his chalupa around within reach of the water hose and spigot. Twice a small motor boat, a lanchita, came around the side with the double purpose of filling a handful of water jugs and dropping off some of our town folk who were finishing work in the marina and waiting to hitch a ride on a boat back to town (we had three friends join us on our trip back in).

Water boat getting some repair work done on it, our chalupa getting ready to fill up, and a lanchita with some of our neighbors filling up a few water jugs before heading back to the island.

Empty tanks,eager for water.

Filling up a large tank

Filling up some tanks while a lanchita waits to get some water for about a dozen water jugs to bring back to town.

Our chalupa had three different sizes of tanks: Large tanks, barrels, and jugs. Chicho fills the tanks and barrels with the hose and inserts a smaller hose into the end to feed into the jugs, an innovative technique which allows him to fill the jugs and tanks simultaneously. In his efficiency from years (or maybe decades) of water trips, Chicho filled all the tanks, barrels,and jugs in a brief 27 minutes. ("I told you it would be about half an hour" he said, showing me the timer on his watch).

A couple barrels getting filled

Finished with the filling, Chicho stands on the stern while one of our friends - catching a ride on the chalupa - guides the boat away from the filling area.

Coming back into town

Chicho expertly backed our chalupa into the space between these two large chalupas, parking us at the port in town.

All told, the water trip took about three hours, getting us home just in time for lunch. Arriving to port, Chicho usually pumps water from all the tanks to large storage tanks on land and sells water by the jug from these tanks. I have the luck to live right next door to his son, Edinson, who also fills three tanks with water from the chalupa - whereas many people have to push wheel barrows of water tanks across town to get their water, I can just walk next door to fill up a jug when needed. With power being out this particular day, we left the chalupa in place rather than connecting the pump and filling the tanks. If power is out and the tanks are empty, Chicho fires up a small generator to give him the electricity needed to power the pump.

Water tanks - pump led in to the center tank, water jug below the tank on the right - to fill jugs for the neighborhood.

Filling up the chalupa only cost Chicho a remarkable $30,000 pesos (about 15 US dollars). Gas cost another $10,000 pesos, and sometimes more when he runs the generator to power the pump when there is no electricity in town. He owns the chalupa (and therefore needs to pay for occasionally repairs), but renting one would cost about $50,000 pesos per day (which is the what he charges when he rents out this chalupa). The consumer price of water is 500 pesos per jug (600 pesos if you pay someone to bring it to you instead of going yourself). With his chalupa full, he can sell about 500 jugs of water, a value of about $250,000 pesos. After gas and other expenses, I estimate that a full trip nets him around $200,000 pesos. Having to respond to consumer needs and anticipate when the tanks might run out, however, most water runs aren't full trips, with his actual earnings being less than my estimation.

Profits provide not only for himself and his wife Adela, but also for his son Edinson and his wife, Lucy, and their two children. Which, of course, means buying water. Lots of water. After all, they need to drink, bathe, cook, and clean, all of which requires fresh water. And with no potable water available on the island, they have to bring it in.