THE BARBER
In my free time, I go next door and sit in the barber shop and chat with the barber and his customers, and watch him shave heads. There are many times when he cannot work because the power is off, and he is forced to just wait. But he is there, 8am to 10pm, 7 days a week, making a tiny amount of money (about $20 dollars on a good day) out of which he must give nearly half to the shop owner. The barber has a wife, four children, and two toddler nephews to support. They all live in a two-room house with no electricity. He often does not eat, because he doesn't have enough money for even a cheap lunch. And yet, unlike many of the people I've met here, not once -- NOT ONCE -- has he asked me for ANYTHING. People here see a white American woman and assume I am rich, and they see me as their only hope. They either immediately ask for help, or they wait until the time is right, and then ask for money, sponsorship, gifts, an education, or to take them to America, or to have sex. (Yes, I've been offered a cow for sex.)
But not the barber. He has been nothing but an honorable, honest, dignified man of integrity who works hard, day in and day out, for his family, with very little hope for the future. He doesn't make enough to send his children to grade school (Uganda has no public school -- everyone must pay tuition).
Yesterday two horrible things happened to him: First, his electric shaver broke. That is his livelihood. So he had to close the shop and pay for a ride into downtown and buy a new shaver. The first one they tried to sell him was a fake. He finally got a good one and came back. The shop owner was there, and told him that they are now going to raise his rent for using the space, AND charge him an electricity fee each month as well. This would mean that he would now not even make enough money to feed his family. He was a broken man.
And so.....I decided to give him the Christmas gift that I already had wrapped and was planning to surprise him with on Christmas Eve. I gave him a box that had a couple small gifts in it. His eyes glistened with tears and gratitude -- his parents died of HIV/AIDS when he was a little boy, and he had never received a Christmas gift in his life until now.
"Look in the tissue at the bottom of the box, " I said.
He lifted the tissue....and immediately burst into sobs, huge sobs of relief and joy and gratitude. I had given him a small amount of money. It's not enough to change his life. It's not enough to buy his own shop. But it is enough to make a difference.
Here's the kind of man this barber is: He decided to spend the night thinking about how he should spend the money. Many people might spend the money on furniture or clothes or luxury items. This morning, he told me that the money will pay for his children's education. Perhaps THIS is why I am here....
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