By James Ouma
The second hair cut is barely
weeks away. The first one was successful and went along way in convincing the
boys we really meant business, a limited budget notwithstanding. The first time
I decided to have their hair cut I spent a lot of time, energy and money asking
friends to contribute money towards this noble cause. A number of people (JUDY,
RAMA, MAUREEN and HOSEA) agreed to accompany me to the prison. As the boys
lined up to receive a hair cut I couldn’t help but reminisce about my first
hair cut. I still remember the way it used to be as if it was just the other
day.
My mom (a no nonsense widow)
would bawl at the top of her lungs calling out my name on a Sunday evening. I
dreaded Sunday evenings because it meant a forced hair cut. It also meant going
to school the following day to face the wrath, laughter and jeering that came
from the boys whose family could afford an electric hair cut at the local
barbershop, an hour away walk. What made it worse was the jeering that came from
the girls who gave you a look that killed one’s confidence in a mother’s
hair-cutting skills.
My mom would dig the soles of her
feet on the ground then using her knees she would grasp my upper body in a firm
grip. I would listen as the blunt scissor went snip, snip, snip as it cut away
my hair. The following day I would arrive at school amidst the taunting
laughter and jeers from my classmates.
I don’t know about you. But a
simple hair cut means a lot to a boy behind bars. It means the prevention of a possible
infection of a number of diseases since they share blunt and rusted razor
blades. And when they don’t shave, their hair is in danger of hosting a number
of parasites that can cause a lot of harm.
We are preparing for the second
hair cutting which will be followed a week later by an xmas party with the
boys. We hope such simple gestures will go a long way in preparing the boys for
their restoration back to the society where they will become better people
ready to fulfill their life purposes. Cutting the boys hair taught me a lot of
lessons one being that deep within each person’s heart, be they good or bad,
rich or poor, man or woman, there beats a heart that yearns to be loved, to be
embraced and to be told you too matters. Since that day many of the boys have
been freed, many have given their lives to Christ while a number of families
have resumed contact with the children they once thought were lost forever.
There is a lot of drama as I work
with these boys. Two days ago I was in a cyber café when a gang of young boys
stormed in brandishing guns and knives. They ordered everyone to hit the floor,
remove their phones and wallets and hand it over with their faces kissing the
dirty floor. As I lay on the floor I kept thinking about the boys at the juvenile
prison who I have been trying so hard to help get out of prison and here I was,
kissing the floor and listening to a bunch of boys who were getting a one way
ticket to prison. My heart went out to them and it made me resolve to do all I
can for the ones in custody, and perhaps seek for a way of preventing others
from joining them. I kept thinking how can this happen and what will my
friends, the ones who have been discouraging me from working at the prison say
when they hear this. Well, the boys left the cyber café before they could rob
me.
The next day I emailed a request
for funds to enable me have the last hair cut and a Christmas party for the
boys at the prison. I have lots of plans for the boys and I am taking one day
at a time. There are a number of activities and my long term goal is to set up
a half-way centre for these boys. I need lots of support and I therefore humbly
ask for all kinds of assistance both materially and in kind, funding and
volunteers right from lawyers, probation officers, counselors and mentors to
come help me change tomorrow’s man – one boy at a time. Hope to hear from you
soon.
