My salonist my counsellor: Where broken hearts seek comfort

Ms Ruth Moraa (Left) and her employee Yvonne Akinyi fix a girl's hair at the Master Beauties Salon at the Kenya Cinema building in Nairobi on 12-08-2016. PHOTO | CHRIS OMOLLO

What you need to know:

  • Professional counsellors argue that opening up to a salonist or the public through the radio might give you momentary relief, but the wounds may not truly heal.
  • From our interviews, it emerged that hairdressers, barbers, gym instructors, and taxi operators sometimes build relationships so strong with their customers to a point of becoming therapists.
  • Other broken hearts are publicised on the social media, with forums like the Facebook group Kilimani Mums Nairobi Uncensored being the places where all the bile is let to flow with subsequent comments to match.
  • At the salon, you’re relaxed. Your feet are being done, your hair is being massaged, your head is being massaged. It almost comes with the territory, because your guard is down, all your stress levels are down...

The question lingers: Where do broken hearts go?

It has been a global rhetorical question, more so from the mid-1980s when singer Whitney Houston, who has since died, released a popular song with that title. 

In Kenya, some of the broken hearts are taken to salons, where the ever-so-attentive hairdressers listen to the pain and offer advice.

In the confines of the salon, the plot of the story from the broken heart bearer twists and convolutes as their hair is woven into various styles.

Sometimes the hurt party gets a solution but, often, she leaves just another juicy story for the hairdresser’s next gossip session.

“There is a lot of gossiping that goes around,” says Ms Ruth Moraa, who has been running a salon in Nairobi’s Kenya Cinema building for eight years.

She adds: “You find that a lady comes in, she is vulnerable because she wants somebody to talk to. But some of the hairdressers later talk to others about it.”

Other broken hearts are taken to barbers, where all that is weighing down a person is let loose as clumps of hair are mowed down. 

“Once they ask you something, maybe you’ve gone through it and it is easier to explain to them,” says Zally, a barber based at a building on Nairobi’s Kenyatta Avenue, who is comfortable being identified only by his nickname.

Some broken hearts are reported to radio show hosts, as deeply personal matters are broadcast — nay, aired like the proverbial dirty linen — and the public is asked to give their views.

Often, a comedian and a “serious” character in the show will start by weighing in on the matter before listeners can contribute.

And contribute they do, with tips coming from heads with varying levels of sobriety, others focusing on the funny side of it and others offering plain malicious solutions.

MORE EXPERIENCE

“FM stations are out there to entertain and make something out of it. You find that serious problems are being used to look for commercials,” says Nairobi-based thespian Linus Odhiambo.

Other broken hearts are publicised on the social media, with forums like the Facebook group Kilimani Mums Nairobi Uncensored being the places where all the bile is let to flow with subsequent comments to match.

WhatsApp groups are also cropping up as places where broken hearts seek solace. One post after another, people let off steam to their online confidants — with a lot of help from emojis when words cannot tell the whole story. 

Lifestyle explores some of the unconventional places where Kenyans go to seek advice and looks at why counselling experts want the public to seek professional advice rather than confiding in people who “have their own problems”, in the words of Nairobi-based counsellor Kendi Ashitiva.

From our interviews, it emerged that hairdressers, barbers, gym instructors, and taxi operators sometimes build relationships so strong with their customers to a point of becoming therapists.

Ms Hilda Syombua, an administrator at a cleaning company in Nairobi, has such a relationship with a hairdresser in Makueni County.

“Mbithe owns a salon in Wote. I got to know her immediately after secondary school, when I was young and naive. I went through a very bitter experience at the time and I naturally found myself confiding in her,” she tells Lifestyle.

Ms Syombua adds: “She told me to focus on my strengths, to look on the brighter side of life, that I was young, intelligent and full of life and so I had a stretch of future ahead of me. I took her word and with time the bitterness ebbed away.”

She says people like her hairdresser always listen, offer a word of encouragement, and pieces of advice. “With repeated visits, they eventually become confidants,” she says.

Mr Lawrence Njogu, a marketer with Unilever Kenya, also has a special bond with a barber in Meru.

“My barber is a good guy called Goddy of Sammy Kinyozi in Meru. I share a lot with him; a lot of man-talk. I confide much in him. He has a lot of exposure due to interacting with many people on a daily basis. They are better than trained counsellors for they work within a more liberal environment so their answers are based on practical experiences by people in a less controlled environment,” says Mr Njogu.

He believes counsellors depend on “book knowledge based on historical situations but my barber uses current happenings and situations”.

Speaking of experience-drawn counselling, one hairdresser who has worked for 20 years says there are clients who seek help from her because they perceive her to be elderly.

Ms Agnes Wanjiku, who is based at the Master Beauties Salon in Nairobi, says she has helped a number of women come out of dilemmas that were weighing them down.

“I have had clients for more than 10 years,” she says. “When it reaches that level, the relationship changes.”

She recalls advising a woman against getting married to a man she had known for three months, and she is glad that her advice helped the young woman.

“The guy was telling her that he didn’t want a relationship; he wanted someone to marry. Because of my maturity, I sensed something was wrong. And I was right. The guy was already married. He had separated with his wife for a short while,” Ms Wanjiku said.

On another occasion last year, she recalls, she gave another woman some advice that worked out well.

GENERAL CONVERSATION

“She said that her son was not ready to go hunting for a job. The guy was already 28 years old heading to 29. She was seeing it as a problem that the man just stayed in the house. I advised her to tell her son to rent a house then pay a year’s rent for him — then tell him to find food on his own,” says Ms Wanjiku.

She is happy that her client heeded her advice and, a few months later, she received heart-warming feedback.

“She called to tell me that the young man had found a job and was doing fine. She said that I’d really helped her and she was happy,” says Ms Wanjiku.

Working on at least 30 heads every week, the mother of two considers herself a mind reader of sorts. She knows when someone is not ready to talk and when her client wants to vent.

“I hardly speak with my customers anything more than the ordinary greetings. They are the ones who speak. When they start opening up, that’s when I chip in,” she says.

“If someone notices that you are more mature than her, she opens up well; and you advise her the best you can.”

But some men who spoke to Lifestyle say that beyond general conversations like the weather and current affairs, they are not comfortable sharing personal issues with people like barbers.

Mr John Maina, 40, a businessman in Nairobi, says most of his barbers “are very young men”.

“You cannot share with him your problems because he doesn’t have a lot of experience,” he says.

Mr Odhiambo, 37, a thespian with Mbalamwezi Players, says he would rather talk to his spiritual leader than his “kinyozi guy”. 

Zally, the barber at the city centre, says that only a handful of men open up on personal matters. He recalls one example where he counselled a devastated man who had lost his two-month-old child.

“I had also lost my child and was telling him how I went through that period,” he says. “I was telling him, ‘I’ve also gone through this; be strong.’ Later on he returned and said he did what I told him.”

But not all problems should be shared with hairdressers, barbers, gym attendants and people in related professions, says Ms Mercy Waweru, a counselling trainer at the Kenya Institute of Business and Counselling Studies (Kibco).

No secrets

“Some pieces of advice that people get out there are not right. I will tell you what I did as a hairdresser and it worked for me, but it may not work for you. And when it goes and backfires on you, you’ll come back asking, ‘Why did you tell me to do this?’” she told Lifestyle.

“As you seek a professional, you are assured that your stories will not be heard in the marketplaces, because there is the confidentiality that is assured. A professional has the ethics,” she says.

Ms Moraa, who has been in the hair business for years, admits that most of the information shared in salons is never confidential.

“I’ve seen these hairdressers start discussing what they were told once a customer has left. They’re not counsellors,” she says.

For that reason, Nairobi residents Agnes Aineah and Cess Kimuyu say they reveal very little of their personal lives to their hairdressers.

RELAXED ATMOSPHERE

Ms Kendi Ashitiva (left) and Ms Catherine Mureithi, who are both counsellors and also founders of phone-based Niskize call centre that was launched on August 8. PHOTO | COURTESY

“They make good buddies to hang around for a moment but most of them are big gossips. Tell them a small secret and you give them a whole topic to discuss with their next customer,” said Ms Aineah.

Ms Kimuyu says the talk revolves around hair care “especially on which hair products to buy”.

“However, in most cases, the discussion ends there because we aren’t really friends. I’m a private person and I choose who to share my personal life issues with,” she says.

According to Ms Moraa, women get the urge to confide in their hairdressers because of the long time they spend together.

“Some of them can be very intimate. They can say very intimate things, especially about their families,” she says.

Ms Kendi Ashitiva, who is a co-founder of a 24-hour counselling call centre that was launched last Monday, thinks that the salon offers room for sharing intimate stories because of the relaxation.

“At the salon, you’re relaxed. Your feet are being done, your hair is being massaged, your head is being massaged. It almost comes with the territory, because your guard is down, all your stress levels are down … Similarly, we actually get many calls at night because it’s night when your stress-managing hormone has dipped,” she says.

Faith is a first time mother and her journey to happiness almost ended tragically thanks to friends’ advice. She was pregnant and suffered constipation which is common with pregnant women. She tried altering her diet but the discomfort persisted and she turned to a WhatsApp group for advice. And the advice came flying in fast and furious. Off she went to the chemist and bought what she assumed were analgesics.

“The man who sold me the drug said I should eat and swallow the pills at night. I did that and went to bed. Little did I know I had taken pills that encouraged contraction of the pelvic muscles,” she recalls.

She was in so much pain she rushed to the hospital the following morning only to be told by the gynecologist that the drug had induced labour. All thanks to her friends’ advice.

The other platform that Kenyans have been using to vent is radio. In virtually every FM station, there is a programme aimed at helping people face their problems, from fetching defaulted debts to busting cheating spouses to seeking relationship advice.

“What I strongly believe is that it doesn’t help all that much because those people who you seek advice from, maybe they have bigger problems than you. To some extent, they end up airing your problems and you don’t get appropriate feedback,” says Mr Maina, the Nairobi businessman.

Mr Odhiambo, the thespian, says: “It is not wise to go on air to sort out your personal problems like relationships, school fees, rent problems … the media should be used to tell people where to go for those counselling sessions and support and help.”

No imposition of values

Ms Waweru says one big limitation of radio counselling is that those who offer advice impose their worldviews on the subject matter.

“People have different views in different situations because everyone has values and beliefs. As counsellors, we don’t impose our values or our beliefs to our client. I want to imagine that that person who is calling there, everyone will talk about the values they have if they advise them. So, in a professional counselling, you don’t impose values or we don’t advise,” says the counsellor.

Ms Ashitiva says the phenomenon of Kenyans airing their problems on radio is a symptom of the lack of qualified people that a person can talk to whenever they are in distress.

“People need to vent. It’s human nature. Even a system has to vent to release pressure,” she says.

“One feeling that you get when you air your problem is catharsis — you release. So, when you talk to Maina Kageni (of Classic 105 FM) or whoever, and he says, ‘Hallo, my darling?’ already, he makes you feel special. If you’re a lady you’re like, ‘Oh, Maina called me darling’.”

In Ms Ashitiva’s view, the only good that one can find from having their issue discussed on air is a temporary high.

“At that time, they give you a sense of relief and a high. But that’s all it is – a high. But then you go back to your reality. They gave you a sense of relief, they gave you a high. At times, they’ll normalise your problem because someone else called, ‘Even me, even me.’ They normalise you at that time and you feel normal; like, ‘Oh, I’m not alone.’”

She adds that such situations give you some sense of relief but it’s not sustainable.

“And then if the person you’re discussing in public ever found out – your husband or your spouse – you’ll destroy that relationship even more, because they feel they were exposed,” she says.

Ms Ashitiva and her co-founder hope that their phone-based counselling service, Niskize, will come to the rescue of Kenyans at their hour of need because a person can seek advice on the phone at any time of the day at Sh7 per minute.

Asked if counsellors have been too expensive for the average Kenyan, she says they should be viewed like other medical professions.

“Their prices are not steep. It’s only that our society does not appreciate counsellors. But we pay gynaecologists the same if not more; we pay dentists the same … It’s not expensive. Counselling is a lot of work. And it’s very tedious,” says Ms Ashitiva.