Thursday, September 14, 2006
Police, Haircuts, & Software
Okay well here's a bit of the funny side of life here.
I'm driving with about 5 guys in my Bakkie (truck) and a good friend of mine wanted to treat me with gratitude for the ride, so he began to punch me on the arm while driving. Well, I gave a "no thanks" to his greeting, and informed him that my size was alomst 2:1 on his. Well he insisted that he continued greeting me with a punch in the arm, so I did what Jesus would do, I pulled over and began to pull his ear and twist his pinky finger (hey, God and Jacob wrestled, right?). Ladies, it's a guy thing. We show love for each other through this, I promise. As he caved in, I got back on the highway, and within no more than 30 seconds I was being pulled over. Two large African police officers came to the window, with large machine guns, and asked us to get out so they could search the car. I was suprised to see machine guns and had to wonder, "was I speeding that bad?" As it turns out, because theft is so common, and because a white having blacks in a social setting is not common; somebody called in car theft. They thought I was being mugged, and I pulled over for help.
We were laughing about it for awhile, and my friend was kind enough to capture the look on my face with a video camera on his phone, and he was even so kind to show it to the church.
Ok, so the other story is this: the other day I'm taking my Bakkie into the shop. It needed a few small things, and was supposed to take 90 minutes. 90 minutes wasn't enough time for me to go home without having to turn around soon, so I went for a walk in the downtown market. I sat and had brunch and read the paper. I came back to the shop and they said another hour, then an hour later another hour more; so judging this pattern of excellent service I decided to not have coffee #4 but go find a barber shop and get a haircut. I went to "that part of town" (I still get mad that places like this-and the USA--still have 'that part of towns') which was the more traditionally black side of buisness. I went to a barber shop that most whites wouldn't enter, or usually don't. If you know me, you know I LOVE those parts of town, I love the culture of things; I love fried chicken, ribs, and sweet tea, I LOVE basketball on the streets and I love cornerstore shops. I loved African Americans back home, I love Africans here. With all that preface out of the way: the barber I had was, well, not all there. His long dread locks and sleepy eyes and funky smell let me think he liked certain leaves a whole lot, but I took my chances. I asked for about an inch off my shag, and about 2 inches left on top. I also asked for a beard trim. So he began to cut my hair. He said, "is this length okay?" And I said, "just a little less please" (key word: little) Well, he gets the buzzer out, so I'm thinking he wanted to trim my beard next...nope...strait for the head. Before I new what he was doing, my beautiful shaggadelic hair was all gone. I haven't had my hair this short since I was 13 or 14. With SA spring and summer here, I don't mind it that much...but I did have to ask him "what are you doing?!?!" his cunning reply was "I wanted to give you a new look." For fun, I grabbed a pair of scissors on the table, I grabbed one of his long locks of hair, and replied, "can I give you a new look too? Would you like a bald head?" I had a smile on my face, but I don't think he liked the idea of his long hair gettiing cut, although he didn't mind getting rid of mine.
Police...haircuts...oh, yeah, software, um well my media software crashed. Nothing too funny there, but it's been one heck of a week. One of those weeks with all sorts of laughs, good ones (for the most part).
Any lessons for me? Well, Jesus did clean out my million dollar debt, if someone "owes" me 5 bucks, God help me to let go.
But other than that nothing to deep, just a bit of fun mixed into the journey.
in Him
Nate
I'm driving with about 5 guys in my Bakkie (truck) and a good friend of mine wanted to treat me with gratitude for the ride, so he began to punch me on the arm while driving. Well, I gave a "no thanks" to his greeting, and informed him that my size was alomst 2:1 on his. Well he insisted that he continued greeting me with a punch in the arm, so I did what Jesus would do, I pulled over and began to pull his ear and twist his pinky finger (hey, God and Jacob wrestled, right?). Ladies, it's a guy thing. We show love for each other through this, I promise. As he caved in, I got back on the highway, and within no more than 30 seconds I was being pulled over. Two large African police officers came to the window, with large machine guns, and asked us to get out so they could search the car. I was suprised to see machine guns and had to wonder, "was I speeding that bad?" As it turns out, because theft is so common, and because a white having blacks in a social setting is not common; somebody called in car theft. They thought I was being mugged, and I pulled over for help.
We were laughing about it for awhile, and my friend was kind enough to capture the look on my face with a video camera on his phone, and he was even so kind to show it to the church.
Ok, so the other story is this: the other day I'm taking my Bakkie into the shop. It needed a few small things, and was supposed to take 90 minutes. 90 minutes wasn't enough time for me to go home without having to turn around soon, so I went for a walk in the downtown market. I sat and had brunch and read the paper. I came back to the shop and they said another hour, then an hour later another hour more; so judging this pattern of excellent service I decided to not have coffee #4 but go find a barber shop and get a haircut. I went to "that part of town" (I still get mad that places like this-and the USA--still have 'that part of towns') which was the more traditionally black side of buisness. I went to a barber shop that most whites wouldn't enter, or usually don't. If you know me, you know I LOVE those parts of town, I love the culture of things; I love fried chicken, ribs, and sweet tea, I LOVE basketball on the streets and I love cornerstore shops. I loved African Americans back home, I love Africans here. With all that preface out of the way: the barber I had was, well, not all there. His long dread locks and sleepy eyes and funky smell let me think he liked certain leaves a whole lot, but I took my chances. I asked for about an inch off my shag, and about 2 inches left on top. I also asked for a beard trim. So he began to cut my hair. He said, "is this length okay?" And I said, "just a little less please" (key word: little) Well, he gets the buzzer out, so I'm thinking he wanted to trim my beard next...nope...strait for the head. Before I new what he was doing, my beautiful shaggadelic hair was all gone. I haven't had my hair this short since I was 13 or 14. With SA spring and summer here, I don't mind it that much...but I did have to ask him "what are you doing?!?!" his cunning reply was "I wanted to give you a new look." For fun, I grabbed a pair of scissors on the table, I grabbed one of his long locks of hair, and replied, "can I give you a new look too? Would you like a bald head?" I had a smile on my face, but I don't think he liked the idea of his long hair gettiing cut, although he didn't mind getting rid of mine.
Police...haircuts...oh, yeah, software, um well my media software crashed. Nothing too funny there, but it's been one heck of a week. One of those weeks with all sorts of laughs, good ones (for the most part).
Any lessons for me? Well, Jesus did clean out my million dollar debt, if someone "owes" me 5 bucks, God help me to let go.
But other than that nothing to deep, just a bit of fun mixed into the journey.
in Him
Nate
# posted by Nate Sanow @ 9:37 PM 
