THE COMPETITION

We felt that it was imperative to win this competition. Even though neither us would benefit from this dull competition, we felt the need to prove ourselves  in front of those who accidentally existed at that moment , the need to boost our self-esteems, to be recognized.

He had taught me everything I know ,how to hold the scissors correctly how to use the comb. Yes, he was obliged to teach me when I took in rightful place in the shop that had belonged to my father.

When I was still learning, a big mistake was simplified with the help of his experienced fingers.

I learned a great deal from him but now I do not care whether he was forced to teach me or not. I have learned to be independent.

The customers used to come and be attended by him even though I was capable and it took me a long time to build up their confidence in me.

I know of many times that he has been helpful but I also know of many times that he has helped me to fail.

As the time passed, my competence increased and we became equal in our capabilities.

The seeds of contention began to grow in both of us and we became adversaries.

My number of customers slowly increased and there were times when I even had some waiting in line.

I had my own crowd and he his.

The most interesting fact was, because of his tardiness and the method by which he cut hair, some of his customers preferred to come to me, as they became bored with his leisurely approach and lengthy discussions.

I ended up completing two heads of hair to his one and this pleased those who did not have the time to listen to endless tales of wisdom and teachings.

I learnt through trial and error the different ways to handle certain types of hair and styles and my work improved.

My tutor, I realized, had absolutely no creativity but was set in his old regimen and style.

He opted for the short back and sides even though the customer wanted to try a new style.

I must admit though that he had a great talent in hiding any mistakes and deftly rectified my own shortcomings when my hands were still inexperienced.

The problem was though that he lacked the ability to improve his knowledge of styles and forms and never tried something new.

This was fine for the older clientele as they were as set in their ways as he was in his but did not work well with the younger generation.

He had no faith in the new fashions or the new generation of barbers who modernized the art of hair cutting.

He stuck to his solid beliefs and thus limited his imagination.

His ways were strict and the  apprenticeship under his hand must start with cleaning mirrors, sweeping floors, changing the razors, washing hair.

Eventually it was allowed to cut children’s hair and thus work the way diligently up the ladder.

He did not approve of creams, oils or the use of a hairdryer.

He always reminded me of those who condemned Selphador Dali and the surrealism arts and used to say, "“if you colour a donkey tail and let him walk over a paint it will make u a surrealism painting”.

His dogmatic thoughts prohibited him from accepting or even trying newer styles. Each of his customers left the shop with the same shape and form of haircut. They  paid the same price,even their hair lacked imagination.

He never used any of the modern equipment and called them “tool of deception.”

He could not accept the fact that my customers preferred the use of these new gadgets, I could read the disbelief in his eyes.

The clientele slowly changed as the times did and I could see that he was greatly disturbed by this and by my own independence.

The carpet had been pulled from under his feet as more and more customers opted for my services and his lessons were no more needed by me.

I started to feel annoyed even at his laugh and often hoped that he would not show up for work.

The wicked desire to have the shop all to myself gnawed at my insides.

It had after all been my own father’s shop, so I would think.

As my skills grew, so did this desire to solely run the salon.

He also, took it for granted that it was his seeing that he had worked there most of his life and thus the salon became the hidden desire between the two of us.

He started to degrade my work and products to my customers behind my back and they in turn retold me with exaggerated gestures, relishing in this conflict.

The quantity of our customers became the scale of our partiality towards each other.

Yes, he had helped me a great deal but sometimes he was trying to destroy me but that was the easiest part to correct by trying to cut even better.

The fact that he was the one, who had helped me to get where I was, was undeniable though.

One day, I happened to dare to be working on the head of a well-known boxing champion without knowing that. I made a terrible blunder with the cutting of his hair. For an hour or more, I tried to rectify my mistake, but to no avail. While I was working, he was relating to me how thrilling it was to win, how satisfied he felt when beating his adversary, how powerful winning made him feel within himself. Little did he know that he was planting in me the seeds of my own downfall? I was so engrossed in his conversation that without realizing it, He was furious and. Nothing saved me but my tutor coming. I gave him the scissors and the comb and excused myself to the bathroom, leaving him seething in the barber chair. I made my escape too humiliated to return for the rest of the day.

The seed of mine grew, appealing to me more and more.

The more I thought about it, the more my desire became to compete against my tutor.

Eventually, the day of the competition dawned and we began when these two customers came to get hair cut.

I knew from past experience that my tutor would stick to his usual style and old-fashioned methods. I used this to my own advantage and started with a clear and positive mind.

He smiled at me kindly while he worked, but my smirk belied my confidence and feeling of self-importance.

At that time, I misread his intentions and body language, concentrating only on winning, intent on showing that I was the better man. My greatest betrayal was when I used the hairdryer which I knew was against his principles. Looking back now, I feel humble, I know how wicked I had been.

Maybe he does not even remember me anymore.

 I wish to tell him that I admire him. I admire the way he effortlessly snips and cuts, his comb gliding elegantly through the hair,  checks that each hair is in its correct place, as he steps back when he shaves the chin

 his face gentle, and his smile genuine his laugh merry. I wish to tell him that I miss him. I wish to tell him that we had lovely times together.

I now know that his smile was a smile of pride, the pride that he felt to see his own apprentice doing so well, the apprentice that he himself had taught. The two customers went away while the ill-feelings stayed then inside both of us.

 I know now that one shop can contain two or more barbers.

 He has a new shop now and I often watch him from a distance trying to pluck up the courage to tell him the way I feel.

I watch in silence How foolish we are.

We fight and struggle for things that seem important at the time but which are actually meaningless. he may also have things to admit if he even remembers those days..

We tend to hold grudges that devour our souls, even though we are gifted by a love that uplifts us

. We suppose malice while that smile may meant feel affection.

We become prisoners of the moment and our own self-esteem.

We tread on others as if they are dust and yet we need each other for our survival.