Missing YaYa

Back home Gusi had the best hairdresser. We would go to this salon just for kids. They have a train set, toys and cute little chairs shaped like different cars the kids sit in for their haircuts. We tried other kid salons, but this was the best one we found, plus they had YaYa.

YaYa is great. She was born and raised in the US but her family is from Mexico and she speaks fluent Spanish. She is patient, mild mannered and soothing. She was the perfect hairdresser for Gusi. If he would start to cry during his haircuts, she always had an animal cracker available to calm him down. After that he would start talking to YaYa, mumbling words in Spanish with his mouth full of animal cracker that I then translated. I miss her terribly.

Yesterday afternoon after the pottery class and a nap, our friend Gina told me she was going to get her hair cut at the Lebanese lady's place. I had heard about her having very good prices, knowing how to cut "white people's hair" (that's the tacky way people refer to straight hair here) and also doing children's hair so I asked Gina if we could tag along to get Gusi's hair cut.

The poor boy has been sweating so much here that his hair, though it's not terribly long, just mats down on his head giving him the appearance of a wet seal, just glistening in the sun. So I thought the Lebanese lady would be good to go to, plus I had heard from some moms that they were satisfied with their kids' hair cuts. Boy was I in for a shock. When we got there, Gina got shampooed and Gusi got the booster chair. The Lebanese lady called over an assistant who put a smock on Gusi at which point he began to cry. Then the Lebanese lady and her assistant put Gusi's head in a vice grip between the two of them and proceeded to cut his hair with the buzzers and then scissors for up top. Gusi just kept crying and crying, louder and louder, even calling for YaYa for a while. It was horrible, but before I could say anything they had already done half his head. I endured his crying while they finished and felt so horribly guilty for what I had put him through.

It is hard to explain to people here that you should be delicate with a child--that's just not part of the culture. Infants and toddlers are strapped to their mothers' backs and ignored for most of the day; early childhood development is not a concept that is understood--kind of like oral health I'm noticing. I tried to tell the Lebanese lady that she should let me hold Gusi to calm him down, she said no, that she would be done in a minute. In the end, he calmed down when Gina's driver gave him the key to their car (Gusi loves keys) and the Lebanese lady finished up. The crazy part is that when Gina told her driver to take us back home and then return for her, Gusi started crying Gina's name. He refused to leave without her. Refused. Perhaps he thought that she would be in danger during her haircut so he wanted to keep the group together: strength in numbers.

The haircut looks fine, a bit shorter than I usually like it, but it's done. Next time I will try the more expensive salon at the Hotel Meridien President that has been recommended. Let's see how close to YaYa we can get over there. If not, I'll start cutting his hair myself.

(It turns out the Lebanese lady is third generation Senegalese-born, so her great grandparents were the ones who emigrated. She is very much Senegalese through and through; her skin color is the only thing that is different from other Senegalese.)