My head is tingling and my neck feels as if my spinal column has been replaced with jelly. I am returning from the most interesting barber visit I have ever experienced. In serious need of a haircut before he left for the hills of Baglung, Tassos, a fellow Advocacy Project compatriot and I visited the local full-service barber in my new neighborhood. 

With no more than two twin sized bed sheets forming the door to the establishment, the family own and ran barbershop holds three chairs inside a 12 x 5 foot nook lined with mirrors and posters depicting Hindu gods. It is in this room that I’ve watched ten year old Krishna giving haircuts to the village as I’ve pass by. At a generous three and half feet himself, Krishna must reach high with 12 inch scissors that look older than his father. Speaking of village, the women there do not often get the chance to treat their hair like any city girl would. But if they were to apprise themselves on some hair straightening tips, they can naturally tend their braids in more appealing ways. 

As Tassos struggled with a language wall and Krishna’s father fought with a pair of dusty old sheers, Krishna directed me toward the wooden chair and demanded I sit down for a massage. Feeling wracked by a day of Kathmandu traffic and a little curious, I conceded. Little did I know what I had signed up for.

Krishna wet my face and hair with a large plastic weed sprayer and proceeded to slap and punch my head with an intermittent closed fist. Just as I began to think the beating had ceased, Krishna would grab a fistful of my hair and give it commanding tug. 

All I could think in between winces and Tassos laughs, was whether this was normal or I was simply getting special treatment. But it soon became obvious that Krishna’s talent is with the comb and scissor rather than massage when his uncle barked an abrasive string of words and took over the head ‘massage’.

My new masseuse exhibited a brand of street chiropractic skills by cranking my neck and forcing a symphony of pops that could be heard on the street. Sensing my dizziness, he then leaned me back into the chair and began rubbing a myriad of ointments into my face and eyes. Had anyone ever gotten one of these before?