Sunset for the wanzami

How ancient practice of local barbers/medicine men is losing the fight against time For centuries, the wanzamai (plural for local barbers) have shaved fortunes into their pockets as barbers and medicine men. But the inherited practice is facing extinction with changing times as Daily Trust reports   In the hot Abuja sun, Abdulmalik Abdullahi, a […]

How ancient practice of local barbers/medicine men is losing the fight against time

For centuries, the wanzamai (plural for local barbers) have shaved fortunes into their pockets as barbers and medicine men. But the inherited practice is facing extinction with changing times as Daily Trust reports

 

In the hot Abuja sun, Abdulmalik Abdullahi, a middle-aged man wanders the streets with the signature leather bag of a wanzami slung over his shoulder looking for a client to attend to. For centuries, people like him, armed with a bag like his have wandered the streets of Northern Nigeria, shaving the heads of willing clients and performing other traditional-medical practices like circumcision, removal of tonsils and removing blood lumps from their clients. They are not only local barbers, they are also traditional medicine men. But men like him are increasingly becoming rare.

After what initially seemed like a fruitless search for a wanzami, I randomly stumbled on Abdulmalik and recognized his profession from his bag, called a zabira. After a quick exchange of pleasantries and an introduction, I engaged him in a chat during which he revealed how the wanzami business isn’t quite what it used to be.

“Compared to the earlier years when I started this business, I can honestly say that we’re not enjoying as much patronage as we used to. People now believe that our methods are unsafe and unclean, so they opt for barbing salons for haircuts and hospitals for circumcision. But little do they know that while learning the process of becoming the wanzami from our fathers, we were taught how to sanitize and observe cleaning techniques after we finish attending to each customer. We clean all our tools with spirit before burning it. My father was a wanzam and out of his three children, I’m the only one who followed in his footsteps.

“As a child, it always fascinated me and I observed all that he [my father] did carefully. He would take me along when he had appointments with his clients. But that still wasn’t enough. Even after he died, I still had more mastering to do but as of now, it’s safe to say that I have fully learnt and mastered the art of it.”

Abdulmalik, 41, opened his bag to showcase a number of tools including his aska (razor), kaho (a horn used for drawing blood), bunches of local medicines, a small aluminum cup, a stone, soap, spirit, a lighter and many more peculiar items.

The wanzami practice is usually inherited, passed on from father to son, from generation to generation but the changing times have caught up with this practice.

“The youth now are no longer interested in inheriting the trade, so our numbers are declining. Our fathers, who we inherited the practice from have died off or are too old to continue. And a lot of the sons, and our own sons as well have no desire to take on the trade. But despite that, there are more young people doing it now, but they are usually led by a veteran wanzami.”

He shared that he has been in the business for 15 years, which isn’t all that long compared to those who have practiced it for about 70 years, and continue to do so in their old age. Abdulmalik hopes to be one of these people.

“I won’t leave this profession for anything. It’s what I feel most at home doing and I believe there’s nothing else I could do better.”

Abdulmalik is one man practicing an ancient profession in a new city. He left his native Katsina for Abuja eight years ago, drawn by the lure of a larger population in the capital and the obvious higher standard of living. He believed he would find more customers here.

“People of different caliber call us into their homes for our services. From giving haircuts for adults, newborns, both male and female and for circumcision,” he said.

At first the move seemed to work well, but over time it turned out that wasn’t really the case.

“Perhaps if more non-Hausa people patronize our services, this won’t be the case,” he said.

His income has dwindled. On average, each customer pays N100 to N150 for a clean shave.

“On a particularly good day, I can make about N2,500 to N3,000. Sometimes, nothing at all. It’s quite a shaky business now, and considering what goes into learning the art and the effort put into it, it’s quite disheartening and demoralizing,” he said.

Abdulmalik went ahead to explain what it takes to learn the techniques of shaving, circumcision and also, the medical aspect of it as well seeing that many rural and even people in urban areas rely on wanzamai to provide herbal concoctions and other medicines to cure both common and uncommon ailments.

“For our medicines, we mostly use natural ingredients from plants such as herbs, seeds and even bark. But a lot of these plants don’t grow here in Abuja, only up north. So that’s a study of its own. But for outsiders who want to learn the trade, they have to go through a rigorous training for a minimum of five months before they start giving haircuts on children. But for circumcision, the training begins long after fully learning how to give haircuts and preparing medicines. So it takes a training period of two years at the very least,” he said.

“But I have to emphasize on how difficult and how much time it takes to learn. Even us, who grew up watching our parents doing it day in and day out, there are things we still learn everyday. That’s why when we get someone who comes to us willing to learn the art from scratch without wanzami blood in him, we tell them it isn’t a practice that you can pick up, but it requires dedication and patience. Even the most practiced hands have accidents that can lead to death in some cases of circumcision, preparing medicines or tonsil removal. A cut while shaving can get infected, or another may not have steady hands to get it done effectively. So it’s a God-given talent.”

Another wanzami, Muhammad Alkali, otherwise known as Sarkin Aska, is the leader of the Wanzamai Association of the Utako/Jabi environs. I met him sitting under the shade in a small village within the city, enjoying his kosai (bean cakes) and apparently oblivious to the happening and conversations around him.

Surrounding him were much younger men who were also into the barbing business. One of the young men who also goes by the name Muhammad, was busy shaving the head of a man who only identified himself as Ahmed and shared that he visited this spot for a shave every other Thursday for over 10 years since he moved to Abuja.

Alhaji Alkali revealed that he also inherited the practice from his father and has been at it for 60 years.

“I also provide traditional physiotherapy services, and I’m the only wanzami in this area that does such. And to be frank, despite all that we offer, from the haircuts, circumcision, medicines and all, we still end up without a kobo at the end of the day. We have even tried to catch up with the modern ways of giving haircuts by buying clippers as well, but to no avail. My colleagues and I here get very low patronage. Everyone is also so busy now that they can’t spare some time to come to us. I remember when there used to be queues here for our services. It is quite unfortunate. And this business is all we’ve ever known. We can’t just start finding new ways of fending for ourselves.”

I then turned to Ahmad who was busy getting a clean shave. He narrated his experience of visiting the wanzami for over the past 10 years. “As long as I’m in Abuja, I always come here for my usual haircut. In fact, the people here are like family to me. I always have a good time while I’m here. I’ve built a relationship with them over these 10 years and don’t think that they’re going anywhere, no matter what people think about traditional practices gradually fading away.”

Another man, Sham’una Lukman revealed how back at home, the Sarkin Aska of his axis himself, comes to his house on call to attend to him. But he admitted that over the years, he has become a bit skeptical about allowing his children or himself to be attended by any wanzami.

“I’ve heard a number of cases where lives have been lost after circumcision due to blood loss and that diseases like Hepatitis and HIV/AIDS can be contacted through the instruments the wanzami uses. I bought myself a personal clipper, which I now use when I go to the barbershop and sometimes, I even use it to give my own kids a haircut at home as well. It’s good to be educated on these things. It allows you to protect yourself form any illness that you probably won’t even be able to afford the bill to treat if it should come down to that.”

The health implications

Speaking to Dr. Fatima Kaigama, a physician at Garki Hospital, she gave some insight on the possible risks that wanzami practices pose to those who expose themselves to it.

“Nowadays people are more educated and enlightened on health practices and preventive measures. But for those who aren’t, it is important to note that the blades used can put you at risk of getting systemic infections (sepsis) and if circumcision goes wrong, it can cause severe bleeding which may lead to death. You are also much more exposed to contracting life-threatening diseases such as HIV, Hepatitis B and Hepatitis C. As for the traditional medicines they prescribe and administer, they can cause kidney failure due to their high toxicity levels. So as you can see, the medical repercussions are quite numerous.”

And although they are putting more effort into sanitizing their practice, more needs to be done on sensitization of both the wanzamis and their patrons.

For a practice deeply rooted in Hausa culture for centuries, it may finally be sunset for the wanzami. But for wanzamai like Sarkin aska and Abdulmalik, they are hoping the sunset is still some way off.