Hair today, gone tomorrow…

The problem with 10-week field trips to Africa is that eventually you have to find yourself a barber–ideally one that has cut foriegn hair before. 

In Kampala, this should have been an easy task. There are foreigners galore living here, and to find the best spot, I asked one of the nicer hotels where they send their guests. 
Five hours later, I have been asked twice whether I am a Marine.
The process looked fine when my glasses were off. Oterwise I might have stopped the man sooner. But haircuts for the short-sighted is always a leap of faith. You don’t really know what that brown blur looks like until you put your glasses back on.
If this isn’t a good reason for contacts, I don’t know what is.